The attacking party with loud and angry voices accused our mapoo of having stolen their money, a hat and a bowl; and when asked for evidence, pointed to the man’s own shabby old hat, then on his head, to a rice bowl, placed on top of the packs (he said by their hands), and to our own large and heavy bag of Korean cash, fastened and sealed just as we saw it placed on the pony’s back in the morning. They refused to release the mapoo unless these things were delivered up. Mr. Underwood told them that the hat and money were ours, but that he would go with them before a Korean magistrate and leave the whole matter to his decision, only they must unbind our mapoo. This they would not hear to and continued to insist on our giving them the money. My husband absolutely refused to do this. Meanwhile, having placed himself, with the brave little soldier at his side, in a narrow space wide enough only for two, between the wall of the compound and the house, he bade the latter cut the mapoo’s bands. The mob threatened to kill him if he did so, but he turned to Mr. Underwood and said, “Does the great man bid me cut?” and receiving the affirmative reply, he at once cut the ropes which bound the mapoo. The ruffians made a rush, but Mr. Underwood, hastily pushing the mapoo behind him, managed with the aid of the soldier at his side in that narrow place to push one man back against the others and keep them off for some time. While his whole attention was thus engaged, however, with those in front, some of the party found a way to the rear, and coming up quietly behind, suddenly pinioned his arms back and held him helpless, while the others carried off our poor mapoo away outside the village, their voices dying away in the distance. In the awful silence that succeeded the uproar we waited what would follow. After what seemed an age of suspense they returned without the man and seized and carried off our constable. Again that fateful silence, that agonizing suspense; again another raid, and our other mapoo was dragged away. If these and our other companions had shown half the courage of the little soldier and made any effort to defend themselves and us, and especially had the chair coolies stood by us, the ruffians would very likely have been beaten off. As it was, we were practically helpless, the only question was who was to be attacked next. Mr. Underwood was very doubtful of the wisdom of producing the little revolver until the very last extremity. One by one they carried away the members of our party till only Mr. Underwood, the little soldier and I were left. [Illustration: A KOREAN VILLAGE]