The traveller in Korea, away from the railroads, must carry everything he wants with him, except food for his horses.  He must have at least three horses or ponies:  one for himself, one pack-pony, and one for his bedding and his “boy,” Each pony needs its own “mafoo,” or groom, to cook its food and to attend to it.  So, although travelling lightly and in a hurry, I would be obliged to take two horses, one pony, and four attendants with me.

My friends in Seoul, both white and Korean, were of opinion that if I attempted the trip I would probably never return.  Korean tiger-hunters and disbanded soldiers were scattered about the hills, waiting for the chance of pot-shots at passing Japanese.  They would certainly in the distance take me for a Japanese, since the Japanese soldiers and leaders all wear foreign clothes, and they would make me their target before they found out their mistake.  A score of suggestions were proffered as to how I should avoid this.  One old servant of mine begged me to travel 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.