he pupils of Mr. Kit-ze's eyes grew larger and larger. They seemed ready to burst into flame. He began to mutter: "The spirit! the spirit! It has attached itself to my hat! It will now attend me home and stay there; how long, I do not know." He made a sudden movement toward the door. He was evidently going away without his hat. Nothing could induce him to touch it while the spirit had taken hold of it in so demonstrative a way. Plainly his thought was that it was better to lose the hat than to run the risk of contact with the spirit.

His movement was hasty, but, quick as he was, Helen acted more quickly. In an instant of time, as it were, she had grasped the whole situation. Her eyes too had done her good service. Her glance in the direction of the moving hat had shown her what Mr. Kit-ze did not see, nor even the others at first, an inch or so of snake-like tail showing beneath the rim of the hat. She sprang toward the organ, quickly threw up the hat, and exposed to view the whole furry body of Nam-san, the monkey, who began to chatter at her indignantly, the shrill notes heard above the burst of laughter that now came from the others.

Mr. Kit-ze was just backing out of the doorway, but he paused as Helen's quick movement disclosed Nam-san under the hat.

"You see it is the monkey, Mr. Kit-ze," said Helen smiling. "He is a mischievous little beast, and doesn't respect anything that he can have his fun with; not even your hat, Mr. Kit-ze. But he hasn't hurt it. See, it is all right!"

She advanced toward Mr. Kit-ze bearing the hat. She held it toward him, but he did not take it. He still seemed alarmed, and his glance was nervous.

Seeing the condition Mr. Kit-ze was still in and his attitude toward the hat, Mr. Reid now came to Helen's assistance. "There has no harm befallen the hat," he assured Mr. Kit-ze. "It was only the little beast under it, as you saw, that was causing it to move. It is all right now, my friend," and he took the hat from Helen and held it toward Mr. Kit-ze.

Mr. Kit-ze still hesitated, but, after further reassuring words from Mr. Reid, he consented to receive the hat. Yet he did not put it on; he turned away, holding it gingerly between his thumb and one finger. After he had gone, they found it on the doorstep, a mark apparently made with red chalk drawn all around the rim.

"The superstitious old crank!" exclaimed Clarence in disgust; "what made him leave his hat with us? Why didn't he take it away and destroy it, if he was that afraid of it?"

"I think he left it as a reproach to us," said Mr. Reid. The eyes around him sought his inquiringly.

"It is a hint that, as the misfortune befell it here, and he is now deprived of his hat, we should replace it with another."

"And how will Mr. Kit-ze feel toward us, uncle, if we do not?" asked Mallard.

"I fear not very pleasantly, for a while, at least," replied Mr. Reid.

"Then the new hat must go to him by all means," said Mallard. "We can't afford to start off with our sampan man in the pouts."

"No, indeed," assented Helen.

So the next day they sent Mr. Kit-ze a new hat, with expressions of regret at what had happened, and with the assurance that the other hat had been destroyed.

"For that is what he expects of us," Mr. Reid had said. "He drew the red chalk mark so as to confine the spirit within the hat, then left the hat for us to destroy, together with the spirit. All pure foolishness," he concluded, a little emphatically. "We'll just throw the hat aside."

"No, father," said Helen decisively, "we will burn it."

"And thus encourage Mr. Kit-ze in his silliness?" asked Clarence.

"In his superstition," corrected Mr. Reid.

"But it is all so real to him, poor man!" said Helen. And she continued, her eyes softening: "If it will make him feel better to know it is destroyed, isn't it worth while?"

"Yes," assented Mallard heartily, "it is. We'll burn the hat, my Helen. I'm sure uncle won't object."

"Oh, no," assented Mr. Reid. "If Helen wants to take the trouble, let her do it."

A day or two later Mr. Kit-ze came again. He had on his new hat, and was in the best of humor. Especially did his face express pleasure when Helen, carrying him to a spot in the yard, showed him the small pile of ashes to which the hat had been reduced. He stooped hurriedly, gathered them up, and, holding them in his palms, blew his breath hard upon the mass, scattering it to the four winds. Then he grunted with satisfaction, and, going down on hands and knees, made Helen a series of the most profound bows.

He had come to tell them that the sampan was ready, but on account of the great danger of the shoals near Seoul, they must make their arrangements to start from Han-Kang, four miles from the city. Themselves and their supplies could be transported thither by pony-back. Mr. Kit-ze further informed them that he had secured, as both interpreter and assistant boatman, one Mr. Cheefoo, a graduate of the government schools. He had recently fallen upon hard ways, and was glad enough to earn a little for himself, as well as to see some of the world, even if it were only his own country. Mr. Cheefoo would be sent to assist them with the loading, and to guide them to Han-Kang, where Mr. Kit-ze and the sampan would be found awaiting them.

Mr. Chefoo came a day ahead of the time set for starting, for the supplies must be carefully packed into bales ere they could be loaded. He had too, some suggestions from Mr. Kit-ze as to what to take and how to take it. The selection of the necessary provisions and other supplies had cost them much thought and planning. They knew they must not overload the sampan, as much as they might want to take some things. On the other hand was the danger of starting out with a too meagre supply. They finally decided on the following: seventy-five pounds of flour, thirty pounds of rice,—they expected to buy more of this on the way,—a half-bushel of beans, a strip or two of dried beef, a small amount of meats in cans and of tomatoes for soups.

"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 assistant 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 mass 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 mass 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 washing 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 massive 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 clusters of azaleas grew, and the tangled masses of clematis and honeysuckles. Butterflies 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 surpassed, 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 coarse 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 grass. 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 assisting "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 faggots. 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.

"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 compass 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.