The Red Miriok Part 2

"We can get eggs and vegetables from the country people," said Mr. Reid, who had traveled some in the interior districts, "and there will be fish in the river to be caught."

The other supplies consisted of a brazier for charcoal, a frying pan, saucepan, and kettle, some drinking mugs of stoneware, plates and soup plates of tin, knives, forks, and spoons, the latter of wood. Mallard had his camera, and Clarence the fine Winchester which his cousin had presented to him. In addition, each traveler carried a rubber coat, a pair of blankets, and two changes of underclothing. One thing they came near forgetting, but Mrs. Reid's forethought caused them to include it among the stores almost at the last minute. This was a little case of medicines.

It was an excited and happy party that rode away from the mission house early on the following Tuesday morning. In addition to Mr. Reid, Mallard, Helen, Clarence, and Joyce, there were Mr. Wilburn, a young missionary from another station, and his sister, Dorothy, a very dear friend of Helen. Indeed, for two years past the girls had been almost inseparable. Mr. Reid's native a.s.sistant in the mission work and his wife were to be the companions of Mrs. Reid and her sister during the two weeks the party expected to be away.

They moved through the narrow streets, so narrow that it was necessary to go in single file. Even that was difficult at times, for, though the hour was early, a ma.s.s of people was beginning to stir abroad. Along each side of some of the streets ran a gutter, green with slime and thick with all manner of putrid matter. The low mud huts, with their queer, horse-shoe shaped straw roofs, were set so close to this it seemed that any one coming out of the door must fall into the slime if he were not careful. All along the streets dogs and children were tumbling about, sometimes rolling the one over the other. Even the close observer would have found it hard to decide which was the dirtier, dog or child.

"Oh, my, the dirty youngsters!" exclaimed Mallard, as he picked his pony's way gingerly along, sometimes finding it quite difficult to keep from riding right upon a squirming little ma.s.s of humanity. "Where are the mothers," he continued, "to let them run so into danger?"

"You will soon find out, Mallard," replied his uncle, "that the Korean woman has her hands too full of the major duties of was.h.i.+ng and ironing to attend with any degree of success to the minor one of looking after her children. There! do you not hear that strange rat-ta-tat noise? That is made by the wooden club coming down upon the garment wrapped about its iron cylinder. Wherever you go over Seoul, at almost any hour, day or night, you can hear that familiar sound. It denotes the Korean slave-wife's battle with the white clothes of her lord and master, which must receive a certain amount of gloss, or there will be a storm in the domestic sky."

As they came out through the ma.s.sive stone arches of the great South Gate, its lofty drum chamber with tiled roof overhead, a new world seemed to burst upon them. They could see plainly now the line of mountains and the nearer circlet of hills, the latter flower-crowned and sparkling like jewels in the golden light of the sun. Brilliant, indeed, was the coloring where the rich cl.u.s.ters of azaleas grew, and the tangled ma.s.ses of clematis and honeysuckles. b.u.t.terflies and dragon-flies flitted through the air; numerous ducks and geese hovered along the edge of the river, now alighting and skimming the water for a few moments, then dipping wing to fly away. Flocks of cranes waded in and out of the shallow places, hunting for small fish to seize. All around was the beauty and the glory of the spring,--matchless skies, bursting flowers, and singing birds,--such a spring as makes Seoul and its surroundings a joy to eye and heart, never to be surpa.s.sed, always to be remembered.

They took the path along the river, and in a little more than an hour's time had reached Han-Kang, where they found Mr. Kit-ze and the sampan, both in fine trim and ready to be off. Mr. Kit-ze had changed his white clothing for his boatman's suit, which consisted of a blouse and Turkish trousers of coa.r.s.e blue cotton cloth. He was very proud of his sampan, and insisted on showing them its various fine points as well as dwelling upon them.

"Never has such a craft gone up the waters," he declared; and indeed it did look workmanlike alongside of those usually seen on Korean streams.

To begin, it had two very essential qualities--it was strongly made and it was well calked throughout. From fore to aft it measured thirty-six feet, was seven in width at its widest portion, and drew six to seven inches of water.

At Mr. Reid's request, Mr. Kit-ze had rigged up a new and a more substantial roof along the ridgepole and its supporting framework. This was composed of thick, water-tight mats of tough gra.s.s. There were also curtains of the same material that could be fastened along the sides in case of rain or when the glare of the sun was too strong. This roof was only about five feet from the floor of the sampan, so that it was very plain to all eyes that most of its occupants would have to content themselves with sitting or with standing in a stooping posture. The boat had five compartments, three of them from seven to eight feet long, and the other two only small affairs indeed. One of the latter was in the bow of the boat and the other at the stern. Here the boatmen stood to pole the boat during the day, and in them they curled down to sleep at night, each rolled in a straw mat and with the side of the boat as a pillow.

"All hands to the stores!" announced Mr. Reid. "The more quickly we have them in and are off the better. The sun will be pretty warm after a while."

Mr. Chefoo had brought along a young man to carry the ponies back, and he too was anxious to begin his return journey. So all hands set to with a will, even Helen and Dorothy a.s.sisting "like good fellows," as Clarence expressed it.

Mr. Kit-ze, following Mr. Reid's instructions, had previously carried aboard the sampan a supply of charcoal and some bundles of f.a.ggots. It was only the stores brought by the ponies that now had to be loaded.

One thing amused Mallard greatly. This was the shape in which most of their money to be spent on the way had to be brought, strung on cords of straw. And the amount had proved almost a full burden for one pony, though in all it was only about twenty dollars. What queer looking coins they were! of copper, with a small square hole through their center.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'YES, ONLY A LITTLE, FOR IT TAKES NEARLY THREE THOUSAND OF THEM TO MAKE A DOLLAR.'"]

"This is our often abused but ever available 'cash,'" said Mr. Reid, holding up one of the crude bits of metal for Mallard to see. "As there are no bankers or money changers on the way, we must take it with us, for it is the only coin accepted in the rural districts. We must have a little ready money with us," he added.

"Oh, uncle, you call that a _little_?" and Mallard pointed to the pony with his burden of coin.

"Yes, only a little, for it takes nearly three thousand of them to make a dollar."

Mallard recalled his uncle's words now, as he was helping to store the coin away in what Helen and Dorothy had termed the sitting room of the sampan.

He had turned to address a merry remark to Helen when he was struck by the appearance of Mr. Kit-ze. The boatman had stopped in the midst of something he was doing as suddenly as though he had felt the force of an electric shock. He had thrown his head up and was now clutching nervously at the folds of his blouse. Almost at the moment that Mallard's eyes were directed upon him he uttered a sharp little cry. It was of sufficient compa.s.s to reach the ears of the others. As their eyes too were turned upon him, what was the astonishment of all to see Mr.

Kit-ze the next moment rush up the bank to where one of the ponies, with empty saddle, was standing, and flinging himself upon it, go galloping away like one suddenly out of his senses.

CHAPTER III

THE LOST RECOVERED

Exclamations of astonishment and of dismay followed Mr. Kit-ze. "What can he mean?" asked Mr. Reid, his eyes fixed in wonder upon the fast-retreating form of his boatman. "He surely hasn't deserted us!"

"It evidently looks that way," replied Mr. Wilburn.

"Now we are in a box!" exclaimed Clarence. "How are we to go on without our sampan man?"

"Well, we have the sampan," remarked Mallard cheerfully. "The only other thing now is to look out for some one to take charge of it."

"Easier said than accomplished," commented Mr. Reid. "Besides, though Mr. Kit-ze has deserted us, yet the sampan is his. We can't take possession without his consent."

"He has forfeited his right to protest against such a step," declared Mr. Wilburn, "by his desertion and breach of contract. I am for taking possession of the sampan, engaging some one to have charge of it, a.s.sisted by Mr. Chefoo here, then allowing Mr. Kit-ze so much for its use."

"But a competent sampan man is hard to find," said Mr. Reid. "That was why I stuck to Mr. Kit-ze."

"Oh, but it is too bad to lose our trip!" exclaimed Mr. Wilburn, "especially when so much relating to our work depends on it," and he looked wistfully at Mr. Reid.

"Yes, too bad," a.s.sented Mallard.

"Oh, we must go," declared Clarence.

Even Helen and Dorothy were for going on, that is, if satisfactory arrangements could be made.

"But maybe Mr. Kit-ze will return," suggested Helen.

"Yes," said Mr. Chefoo, who now spoke for the first time, "he will return." All turned to look at him inquiringly. He had spoken very positively.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because, honorable sirs, he went away as one who will come back. There was no parting word. He will return."

"He didn't have sense for any parting word," commented Clarence. "It seemed all taken from him."

"No," a.s.serted Mr. Chefoo, "it was only the excitement that comes when one knows there has been a loss."

"'A loss'!" echoed Clarence.

"Yes; Mr. Kit-ze has either lost something of very great value, for which he has now gone to make search, or else he has forgotten something that he has gone to bring. It is one or the other as you will in time discover, son of the honorable teacher."

"But why act in that demented way? Couldn't he have explained to us, and then gone after it in a respectable fas.h.i.+on?"

"It was something by which he set so great a store, youthful sir, that he was overcome by what its loss signified to him. I should say,"

continued Mr. Chefoo, "that it is something without which he could not proceed, or without which he----"

Here Mr. Chefoo paused.

"Well?" asked Clarence.

"Without which he would fear to go on."