iness deal. Too, the sight of
his burly figure, even without the nightmare face, was not exactly
reassuring. That bulge under the native quilted coat, I knew was nothing
but a gun too big for even his bulges to conceal completely. But a man
needed a gun, here. Especially if he had something valuable, such as the
whereabouts of gold.

He grinned, and the white, even teeth, and the wrinkles around his eyes
took away the sense of impending catastrophe brought by those crossed
eyes. I stepped back then, and he walked in. I sat down at my desk. He
sat down across from me, and fumbled in one pocket. He lay on the desk
an object in wrappings of dirty rags. These he peeled off slowly, his
eyes seeming to dart here and there, never looking where they should. As
he peeled, he talked:

"I just landed off a ship from Fusan, up-coast. Y' ever been in Fusan?"

I shook my head, watching his fingers work at the knots of the strings
around his mysterious object.

"Korea is a funny place. As long as people have been living here, you'd
think it would be settled. But it isn't! There're immense forests, great
mountains, where no man has gone, places no one enters. They're so dumb
they don't even have compasses; they get lost! Think my compass is
magic, wonder how I know where to go next, and not get lost.
Superstitious, scared to go into the great, dark, damp forests. Scared
of the mountains no one has ever climbed. That kind of country is a
prospector's meat!"

I nodded. He had the wrappings off, and I leaned forward, a little
breathless at the beauty of the thing in his hand. A curiously wrought
little statuette about eight inches high, of gold. It was set with real
emeralds, for eyes. About the neck and waist of the exquisite female
figure were inset jewels, simulating girdle and necklace. A little
golden woman goddess! It was very finely wrought, and what surprised me,
it was not oriental, not any style of art I could place. Yet it was
alien and ancient. I reached for it. He let me take it in my hands, and
as I touched it, an electric tingle of surprise, a thrill of utter
delight, ran up my arm, as if the image contained a strong little soul
intent upon enslaving me with admiration.

"Potent little female, isn't she?"

His crossed eyes were on mine with that queer stare of the cross-eyed. I
could make nothing of the facial expressions of this man. He would have
been disturbing to play poker against. I would have said he was af