As we reached the corner, I saw a great mob of the roughest and wildest looking men, with flushed faces and dishevelled hair. They came tearing towards us shouting to each other, “The Japanese soldiers are coming, they are firing. Run, run, run!” I did not fancy the company of these gentlemen any more than their looks, nor did I care to be a target for Japanese troops, who were supposed to be chasing them. So I also adjured my chair coolies with some emphasis to “run.” The whole mob came sweeping round the corner, into the thoroughfare on which we were. It was not a dignified or desirable situation, a Presbyterian missionary in the midst of a wild scramble, and with a panic-stricken crowd of roughs escaping for dear life, from the avengers of justice, but there was no help for it. My coolies needed no urging, they were as anxious to get away as any of us, but they certainly deserved great credit, that under the circumstances they did not leave me to my fate, and try to save only themselves. A few moments running brought us to the hospital gates, where we turned in hastily, and were safe. It was not cold, and yet I found myself shivering like an aspen. Strange! Mrs. Avison and I were soon laughing, however, over my late escapade, and as soon as my errand was finished I hurried home another way, none too soon, for the streets were full of angry-looking men, some of whom scowled at me, and muttered, “foreigner.” That night we learned that two of the pro-Japanese cabinet had been killed on the street and torn to pieces by the mob; that mob which, having finished its awful work, accompanied me down the street that afternoon. A young Japanese was also stoned to death on the street that day. In a few days Dr. Avison and Mr. Underwood were with us quite safe. My faithful and fleet-footed messenger had taken a short cut, and reached Koksan in an amazingly short time. The news filled our husbands with anxiety for us, not knowing how far mob violence might go, and they made the distance of near two hundred miles in sixty hours, walking nearly all the way (the pack-ponies go much too slow), sleeping only an hour or so at night, and eating as they walked. They missed both the king’s guard and the posse from Songdo, which had taken a different road, but met many poor frightened natives along the road, who knew not where to turn or to whom to look for protection, with Tonghaks on the one hand and pro-Japanese on the other. Later we heard of many sad tales of Japanese citizens, overtaken in the country, who were very summarily dealt with by the exasperated people. Japanese troops were sent by their minister to bring back all who could be found, and large sums were demanded from the Korean government in payment for the lives thus sacrificed. To which demand, it has been suggested, the reply might have been made, “Who is to indemnify Korea for the life of her queen?”