ravel in a native chair, like a
Korean gentleman. This chair is a kind of small box, carried by two or four
bearers, in which the traveller sits all the time crouched up on his
haunches. Its average speed is less than two miles an hour. I preferred the
bullets. A member of the Korean Court urged me to send out messengers each
night to the villages where I would be going next day, telling the people
that I was "Yong guk ta-in" (Englishman) and so they must not shoot me. And
so on and so forth.

This exaggerated idea of the risks of the trip unfortunately spread abroad.
The horse merchant demanded specially high terms for the hire of his
beasts, because he might never see them again. I needed a "boy," or native
servant, and although there are plenty of "boys" in Seoul none at first was
to be had.

I engaged one servant, a fine upstanding young Korean, Wo by name, who had
been out on many hunting and mining expeditions. I noticed that he was
looking uneasy, and I was scarcely surprised when at the end of the third
day he came to me with downcast eyes. "Master," he said, "my heart is very
much frightened. Please excuse me this time."

"What is there to be frightened about?" I demanded.

"Korean men will shoot you and then will kill me because my hair is cut"
The rebels were reported to be killing all men not wearing topknots.

Exit Wo. Some one recommended Han, also with a great hunting record. But
when Han heard the destination he promptly withdrew. Sin was a good boy out
of place. Sin was sent for, but forwarded apologies for not coming.

One Korean was longing to accompany me--my old servant in the war, Kim
Min-gun. But Kim was in permanent employment and could not obtain leave.
"Master," he said contemptuously, when he heard of the refusals, "these men
plenty much afraid," At last Kim's master very kindly gave him permission
to accompany me, and the servant difficulty was surmounted.

My preparations were now almost completed, provisions bought, horses hired,
and saddles overhauled. The Japanese authorities had made no sign, but they
knew what was going on. It seemed likely that they would stop me when I
started out.

Then fortune favoured me. A cablegram arrived for me from London. It was
brief and emphatic:--

"Proceed forthwith Siberia."

My expedition was abandoned, the horses sent away, and the saddles thrown
into a corner. I cabled home that I would soon be back. I made the hotel
ring with my