The man nodded twenty times, repeating "Sapeke! Sapeke!" and calling three or four coolies, gave them an order, despatching them in different directions. Then he gently drew out the American's watch, and pointing to the open face, held out five fingers.
"That means he'll have the change ready in five minutes, I suppose," said Liddon.
"Of course, just as they'd do at home. Sent round to the bank for it, probably. Let's walk on a bit, and come back here when the time's up."
They indicated on the watch what their plans were, and with many smiles and nods and amiable gestures on both sides the officers proceeded on their way.
There was not much to see in Seoul, after all. The buildings were for the most part miserable little one-story affairs, built of wood, clay, and rice-straw. Some of the meanest dwellings were thatched, but in general this primitive protection had given place to tiles placed in rows along the joints of the boards forming the roof.
"Let's go back and get our pocketful of change," remarked Starr. "Then we'll call on the minister, hurry up our shopping, and get back to the ship. It's too hot to linger in this proud capital all day. I never was cut out for a hermit, anyway."
On the way back the queer expression returned to Liddon's face, but he said nothing until they reached the shop. Then he gave one look at Bob's countenance and burst into a roar of laughter.
Bob was speechless. There on the floor lay his change, surrounded by perspiring coolies. It consisted of about ten bushels of copper coins, each punched in the middle and strung on a wire. The four labourers must have worked hard to get it there within the allotted time.
"Well, this beats me!" exclaimed the midshipman at length. "Is this all mine?"