he man made no effort to resist Mr. Chefoo, neither did he offer a word of protest, but stood silent and sullen, his lean face leaner than ever in its side view, his eyes half closed and gazing steadily downward.

"The rogue!" cried Mr. Wilburn. "He was there for no good purpose. Come, sir, what have you to say for yourself?"

But still the culprit made no answer. He only raised his eyes and let them sweep past Mr. Wilburn, past them all to Mr. Kit-ze, and rest there with a deep and burning glance.

"Speak to him, Mr. Kit-ze," said Mr. Reid. "Find out what was his object in concealing himself in the sampan. It may be," he continued charitably, "that he wanted to steal a ride to one of the villages."

But Mr. Kit-ze, instead of obeying this request, shifted himself a little farther away from the man, and seemed to be intent on something in the river.

"I think Mr. Kit-ze doesn't want to get mixed up in any trouble," said Mr. Wilburn in an undertone. "He probably fears it may end in his having to appear before a magistrate. That always means a fine, you know, whether one is in the right or the wrong. It is evident, brother, that we must adjust this matter ourselves with Mr. Chefoo's help, since Mr. Kit-ze plainly doesn't want to take a hand in it."

But neither threats nor persuasions could elicit a word of reply from the man. Even Mr. Chefoo's fine speeches failed.

"Can he be deaf and dumb?" asked Mr. Reid finally.

"No, father, he is not," replied Helen positively.

All eyes were now quickly turned to her, astonishment plainly written on the faces.

"Why, my daughter, how do you know?"

"Because, father, I saw him in the crowd that surrounded me for a few moments on the bank of the river at Han-Kang. I distinctly heard him talking to himself, though I could not understand the words. I thought at the time," she continued, "from the way in which he regarded Mr. Kit-ze, that they might be acquaintances."

As Helen spoke these last words, she turned her head so as to get a view of Mr. Kit-ze, but he still persistently kept his face turned away, while he seemed to be making aimless search in the river with his pole. He was assuredly doing nothing toward the progress of the boat, since that still remained stationary in the little rocky inlet toward which he had dexterously steered it when Mr. Chefoo had started for the birds.

Desiring that he should understand what Helen had suggested, Mr. Reid repeated it to him. The man was no acquaintance of his, Mr. Kit-ze emphatically declared.

"I think we had better pitch him into the river," said Mr. Chefoo, "and leave him to get out as best he can."

"Yes," said Clarence, "he deserves a ducking, if no more."

"No, we won't be so cruel as that," Mr. Reid replied, "although he may have been after no good. We'll go ashore at the next village and leave him."

"But first," said Clarence, "hadn't you better search him? He may have taken something of value."

"Yes, uncle," said Mallard, "we ought to do that."

To this both Mr. Reid and Mr. Wilburn consented; but, though close investigation was made, nothing was found on the man, nothing, at least, to which they could lay claim.

Mr. Reid gave the signal for the sampan to be headed again up the river. In the meanwhile, Clarence and Mallard kept watch upon the man, who had now assumed a squatting posture upon the floor of the sampan. To their surprise he began to mutter to himself. But even to Mr. Chefoo the words were unintelligible; all except the part of one sentence. In this Mr. Chefoo said had occurred the words, "Marble Pagoda," but he was evidently still as much mystified as the others.

The village to which they soon came was one of considerable size, picturesquely situated in the midst of chestnut groves. There were too, many beautiful clumps of the umbrella pine over which vines of red and white roses luxuriantly abloom were running riot.

A curious crowd swarmed around them at the landing. There were many in it who had never seen a foreigner. The soft hair and white skins of our friends called forth the most intense curiosity. Ridiculous too, were some of the comments. Question after question was directed to them. Some of these Mr. Chefoo answered. To others he paid no attention.

Who were they? Whence had they come? Were their families respectable? Did their ancestors occupy tombs on the hillside? Could they take off their eyes and pull out their teeth as it had been reported that they could? All of these and many more came in rapid succession.

When it was learned that they wanted to put a man ashore a great hue and cry was at once raised, and it was positively declared that this could not be done until the magistrate was seen and consulted. Thereupon, the magistrate's runners, six in number, appeared and assumed control of their movements. These runners were gorgeous in light blue coats, wide pantaloons of white, and big hats with red tassels.

Yes, the magistrate must be seen, they declared. Nothing else would do. In a rash moment Mr. Reid consented to see the magistrate. It is safe to say that had he known the result he would at once have headed his sampan off up the river again even with its objectionable occupant.

It was finally arranged that Mr. Reid, in company with Mr. Chefoo and the stowaway, should attend upon the magistrate while the others remained with the sampan. At the last moment Clarence begged to accompany his father, and consent was finally given. Mr. Reid could see no reason why the stowaway should be carried along with them, as he had really done nothing for which he could be punished. Their only desire was to leave him ashore. But the runners persisted that it was necessary that he too should go before the justice.

The magistrate was seated on the floor of a small platform over which matting was spread. Around him, also squatting on their heels, were two or three of his assistants. The chief official had on a robe of deep blue silk, slashed to the waist at intervals, and with pipings of orange silk introduced between. Only a small portion of his crimson trousers was showing. On his head was perched a little hat of glazed horsehair ornamented with crimson tassels.

Mr. Reid came into the room and very politely bowed to the magistrate, while Chefoo prostrated himself, as did the runners. Clarence, independent young American that he was, contented himself with saying, "Good day, sir," then began to use his eyes to their fullest extent.

The magistrate took no notice of their presence. He merely remarked in a high key to his associates that foreigners were really demons, and that he couldn't see why they had ever been allowed in the country. As to himself, he had felt many times like setting up again, on his own responsibility, the tablets which, prior to the treaty, had declared that all foreigners were cutthroats and robbers, and should be killed on sight.[2]

Each of these sentences Mr. Chefoo cheerfully translated to Mr. Reid.

"The old barbarian," declared Clarence. "I feel like giving him a shaking."

The magistrate now deigned to become aware of their presence. "Who are these who have dared to approach me?" he asked in a big, off-hand way, but all the while he was nervously regarding Mr. Reid and Clarence. Foreigners, he knew from experience, were not always the chicken-hearted people they were declared to be.

The runners told him.

"Well, what is you name, and whence do your come?" was asked of Mr. Reid.

The replies came readily.

"How old are you? Has your father gone and left you? and was he an honorable man?"

To each of these, in turn, was given a cheerful response.

"Well, what are you doing in the country, anyhow? Do they know you are away? Do you get a salary? How much is it?"

After all these queries and many more had been answered to the magistrate's satisfaction, he deigned to hear the case that had been brought before him. When each detail had been gone over again and again, the magistrate put his head to one side, looked as wise as an owl for a few moments, and then proceeded to deliver himself of his decision.

By paying five Japanese yen (a yen is one dollar), the man could be left ashore; but none of the rest could depart until he, the magistrate, visited the sampan and inspected its contents. He further added that he might come that evening if business permitted. If it did not, he would wait until morning. In the meantime they were to remain tied up where they were under the supervision of the runners.

On Mr. Reid's protesting against the injustice of having to pay such an amount for the mere privilege of putting a native ashore who had concealed himself in his sampan, the magistrate retorted by assuring him that he would then charge him, the missionary, that amount for having come ashore himself without first having communicated with him, the magistrate. Mr. Reid knew very well that such a proceeding was far from legal, as he had his passport which he had shown, but at the same time he felt it would be better for many reasons to pay the amount than to contest the point.

Fortunately, Mr. Reid had provided himself with a few of these valuable Japanese coins, which he carried on his person; otherwise he would have been subjected to the further delay of sending to the sampan, as the magistrate at once let it be understood that he could not depart until the amount was in hand.

On their return to the sampan they found that the others too, had been having trials in their absence. The curiosity of the crowd had now become almost unendurable. Men, women, and children had even climbed upon the sampan. They had inspected everything. The two girls had called forth the deepest excitement and curiosity. It was their hair that caused the most comment, especially Helen's; it was so soft and bright. For Helen's hair, though her eyes were dark, was of a light chestnut color. One woman had even gone so far as to offer a dozen eggs for a piece of it. Then she wanted to handle it, but this Helen declined. The woman's eyes and her manner made her nervous. But Dorothy, more assured than Helen, took hers from its fastenings, shaking it about her shoulders, then stood beyond reach of the outstretched hands, laughing merrily at the expressions of countenance and the somewhat wild gesticulations.

"Oh, Dorothy, how can you do that?" remonstrated Helen.

"If it gives the poor things any enjoyment, I don't mind," replied Dorothy.

"But don't you see that the sight of it that way excites them the more?"

"Oh, it's good as a show," declared Joyce, almost shouting out in his delight. "Don't you mind sister, Miss Dorothy."

Things were in this hubbub when Mr. Reid, Clarence, and the runners appeared. Mr. Reid joined in the effort to induce the people to withdraw from the sampan, but without success. Then the thought struck him that he would appeal to the runners. It is safe to say he hadn't the least conception of the result or, much as he wanted to get rid of the people, he would have hesitated.

The runners at once charged pell-mell upon the surging crowd, shouting and yelling as though they were seeking to stampede a herd of cattle. Big hats, green coats, topknots, and wide trousers were soon jumbled together in a series of kaleidoscopic flashes, then quiet reigned once more around the sampan. The runners had done them this much good, if no more.

The sun had almost disappeared behind the neighboring hills, and the night, traveling fast in that region, would soon be upon them. Still the magistrate had not appeared. They felt now that he would not come until morning. They were much provoked. Mr. Kit-ze especially showed displeasure. He had planned to reach the next town ere tying up for the night. There had already been too much delay at Han-Kang. He felt considerable compunction over this, and had been doing his best ever since to make up for lost time, and now felt thoroughly exasperated over this unnecessary detention. But there was no other course save to await the magistrate's pleasure.

Supper eaten, with curious eyes all around watching their every movement, Mr. Reid prepared for the evening service. "We will go ashore," he said to Mr. Wilburn, "and take Mr. Chefoo. The others can join in from the sampan."

They had no trouble to gather the people about them. Great was the wonder that spread as the services proceeded. A hymn was sung, a prayer made, a Bible lesson read, which Mr. Chefoo explained. Then with Mr. Chefoo still as interpreter, Mr. Reid began to speak to them. His words were about Jesus, our one ever-loving, steadfast friend. Exclamations of surprise, then of interest, began to be heard. "Could it be possible," they asked each other, "that there was One in the world who could love as this one loved? who could and did give his friendship 'without money and without price'?"

As Mr. Reid ceased speaking, an old man approached him. Would the honorable teacher tell him again the name of this wonderful Friend? When told he kept repeating it over and over. Other touching incidents occurred. Many questions were asked. When Mr. Reid lay down to sleep that night, it was with the happy feeling that more than a passing impression had been made upon some hearts, as it was also with the determination that he would come again to break the bread of life to these hungry souls.

Even when the crowd had left the sampan, scattered by the impetuosity of the runners, Helen still felt nervous. The persistency with which the women had pressed about Dorothy and herself, their incoherent words, burning glances, and fierce gestures had wrought her up to a high pitch of excitement. It was a long while ere she could go to sleep, even though her father assured her that it was to the interest of the runners to keep close watch upon the sampan. When at last Helen fell into slumber, it was to be disturbed by unpleasant dreams. In the midst of one of these she awakened with a start. She surely was conscious now, and what a moment of horror it was! for a rough hand was feeling its way along the meshes of her hair. A voice she knew from both tone and accent was no friendly one, was muttering in a manner that made her heart almost stop its beating.