They were dried cockroaches!
Farther on another pig‐tailed individual spoke to us in fluent English with a Yankee twang.
“Do you live in Samchun?” I asked him, in surprise.
“Not much, you bet!” he replied. “I don’t belong to this darned country any more. I live in ’Frisco.”
He explained that he had come to Hong Kong as a sailor on an American vessel, and had wandered out to Samchun to see a relative. With a “So long, boss!” from him we passed on.
Every fifth or sixth house was a gambling‐den. Around the tables were seated Chinamen of all ages engaged in playing fan‐tan, that slowest and most exasperating of all methods of “plunging.” The interiors of these establishments were gay with much elaborate gilt carving.
It was now growing dark, and our lantern‐bearers lighted the paper lamps swinging at the end of long sticks they carried. We directed our escort to lead us out of the town. We wished to dismiss them at the gate; but they assured the interpreter that their orders were strict—not to quit us until they had seen us safely out of Chinese territory. So we made our way to the river. Arrived there, my companion and I discussed the question as to whether we should reward our escort with a tip or whether they would be insulted, being soldiers, at the offer. Finally we resolved to give them a dollar. If they did not look satisfied, we would increase the amount. So a bright English dollar was handed to the Sikh to be given to them. Satisfied! They seemed as if they had never seen such wealth before. They crowded round us with voluble thanks; and with quite an affecting farewell we went down to the water’s edge. To our surprise we found our commanding officer with a party of armed sepoys crossing over to us in the ferry‐boat. Alarmed at our long absence, he had feared that something untoward had happened to us and was coming in search of us. When we arrived at the camp we found the others rather uneasy about us; though some cheerfully assured us that they had been hoping that the Chinese had at least captured us to give them an excuse for attacking and looting Samchun.
Shortly afterwards, interested at our description of our adventures, our commanding officer determined to visit Samchun. A letter in Chinese was sent to the mandarin to acquaint him with our chief’s intention. Next morning we were surprised by the sight of eight Chinese soldiers, armed with carbines and accompanied by the Sikh interpreter, crossing the river and ascending the path to the camp. As they approached the tents our sepoys, anxious to see the redoubtable warriors at close range, rushed out and flocked round them. Terrified at the sight of these strange black men, the Chinese soldiers dropped on their knees, flung their carbines on the ground, and held up their hands in abject supplication, entreating the interpreter to beg the fierce‐looking foreign devils not to beat them. The sepoys roared with laughter, patted them on the backs, and bore them off to their tents to soothe them with tea and cigarettes. The Sikh constable was the bearer of a message from the mandarin, expressing his pleasure at the intended visit of our commandant and informing him that an escort had been sent as a mark of honour. Accompanied by twenty of our tallest sepoys we crossed the river and set out for Samchun.
As we approached the town we found that the whole garrison of 400 men had been turned out to welcome us and were formed up to line the road near the gate of the Yamen. Fourteen huge banners of many colours waved above the ranks. In front of the entrance stood the mandarin and his suite in their gala dress, waiting to receive us. Our commanding officer had ridden up on his Arab charger, which must have seemed an immense horse to the Chinamen present, accustomed only to the diminutive ponies of their own country. The mandarin came forward to welcome our chief and apologised for not receiving him with a salute of cannon, as, he said, he had been afraid of startling his steed!