The Red Miriok Part 7

The old man was quite a character. He had shown considerable devotion to the missionary and his family, but Mr. Reid, with all his efforts in Mr.

Ko's behalf, had never been able to get the old man further than the admission that the Jesus doctrine was a very fair sort of doctrine and, if he only had the time, he would give himself over to the practice of it.

Now the old man was delighted at seeing the missionary and his children again. They must spend some time with him, he declared. Everything had been prepared for them. He had even secured a cook who could give them the food as they liked it. Oh, this was a wonderful man, indeed. Only yesterday he had come. "The good spirits sent him," a.s.serted Mr. Ko, "I am certain they did."

Nothing would do the old man but that Helen, at least, must have a glimpse of this wonderful cook the moment she reached the dwelling.

"There he is," said Mr. Ko, with the delight of a child, pointing through an opening into the kitchen.

A tall figure was bending over the _ang-pak_, or great rice jar. At sound of Mr. Ko's voice he raised his head and glanced around. It was the stowaway of the sampan.

CHAPTER VII

AN ENTREATY

Helen uttered an exclamation, then moved toward Mr. Ko. He read the expression of her face quickly.

"You know him?" he asked.

"I do not know him, but I have seen him. He was on the sampan with us after we left Han-Kang."

"Why, he did not tell me that! He only said that he had seen the honorable teacher and that he was coming. But no matter," continued Mr.

Ko, and looking encouragingly toward the man. "He did not tell me because he had some reason not to. It is all right," he added cheerfully. "You may go on with the cooking."

"I know him," he said, turning again to Helen. "He was my neighbor in Seoul two years ago. He is a good sort of fellow, only there seems to be something on his mind. I don't understand that. Never did."

A deep perplexity now came to Helen. She could not decide whether or not to let the others know of the presence of the man at Mr. Ko's. She finally reached the decision to tell her father and Clarence and maybe Dorothy. There was, perhaps, after all, nothing wrong about the man. He had really done nothing to arouse their suspicions, only remained silent and sullen when he was questioned. She knew that her father believed that he had merely been stealing a ride. The only mysterious thing about him at present was his having so swiftly preceded them to Mr. Ko's. She afterward learned that he had fallen in with another sampan almost as soon as he had left them, and had worked his way up the river. While they lingered at the villages he had traveled.

Though Mr. Ko had adopted some of the ways of civilization, he still ate very much after the Korean fashion. Thus when they sat down to supper it was at little round tables not more than a foot or a foot and a half high. Instead of cloths, they were covered with sheets of glazed paper.

Rice was the princ.i.p.al diet. It was set in an earthenware bowl near the center of each table. In addition there was a soup of beef and onions thickened with barley, a batter bread made of flour and oil and a slight sprinkling of sugar, chicken curry, eggs, and rice fritters. Mr. Ko also had tea, a rarity for the rural districts of Korea.

As Mr. Ko, Mr. Kit-ze, and Mr. Chefoo ate, they made a great noise with their mouths. This was done to show their appreciation of the viands, for in Korea, the greater the noise made while eating, the more forcefully defined is the compliment to the food.

Mr. Ko's house was much better than that of the average farmer. It was built of poles, mud-daubed, but the walls of the princ.i.p.al rooms were covered with paper. There were little windows of thick glazed paper while the doors were set in frames of light bamboo. The sleeping arrangements consisted princ.i.p.ally of mats with blocks of wood for pillows. In the winter the beds were made over the brick flues that ran through the rooms connected with the great oven where the baking was done. Thus, in winter, to sleep in a Korean house means to roast and freeze by turns, for while the fire is kept up it is hot indeed, and when it is allowed to go out then "cold as a stone" gives the literal condition of a brick bed.

The house stood in a grove of mulberries, for to his other pursuits Mr.

Ko added that of silkworm raising. There were clumps too, of the walnut and persimmon, with vines of the white and yellow clematis tangled amid their branches. Here the birds built, and here they poured forth their morning songs or chattered to their mates as they were going to bed at night. In front were the fields of wheat and barley, and farther down, in the very heart of the valley, the crops of rice. As it was near the end of April, the barley was already in ear and beginning to take on its russet coloring.

Mr. Ko, being an old bachelor, there were only men about the house. He had a saying with reference to which Clarence teased Helen and Dorothy rather unmercifully. It was to the effect that where there were women there was sure to be trouble.

"Oh, but Mr. Ko likes girls!" a.s.serted Helen. "You can't make me believe otherwise, Master Clarence. He and I have been too long good friends."

"What was that I heard him say last night?" asked Dorothy, a mischievous light in her eyes, "about sons and how they were like dragon's teeth in the sides of their parents?"

Clarence looked rather sheepish at this quick turning of the tables on himself, and in a moment or so dexterously changed the conversation.

On the following day, which was the Sabbath, two services were held in Mr. Ko's mulberry grove. At the first not many were present, but by afternoon scores had flocked to the place from the neighboring farms and from the village. Curiosity was plainly depicted on all the faces, but as Mr. Reid proceeded, it changed to eager attention on the part of several. Mr. Chefoo made a good interpreter. He was both careful and earnest. Already the sweet, simple truths the missionary taught were beginning to make their appeal to his own heart. It was the old story of Jesus and his sweet ministrations to men, his sympathy for them, his understanding of their needs, the great, warm, deep love that took in all, even the poorest and humblest.

"And this Jesus is the same now as then," continued the missionary. "He is waiting to enter each heart and to possess it, to have our lives drawn nearer to his own, to bestow upon us the sweet knowledge of that companionship with him that may be ours through all the way."

The services were barely concluded when Mr. Kit-ze came to ask questions. Gladness was in Mr. Reid's heart as he saw the moved, wondering look upon the boatman's face. He wanted to know if this Jesus, who could do so much for men, who wanted to be their friend, was very rich and powerful? Could he bestow honor and wealth as well as friendship?

Mr. Kit-ze was told that the provisions of honor and wealth did not enter into Jesus' plans for the happiness of his people. He himself had shown his condemnation of the grasping hand, the covetous heart, by declaring that he who desired to be the greatest should be the least of all and servant to all.

"But he gives that to us which is better than all the honor and riches of earth," continued Mr. Reid; "he gives us contentment of life and peace of heart. Would not you think these far better than money or land, my friend?"

Mr. Kit-ze did not know. He had thought that it would indeed be a very fine thing to possess land and cattle and so comfortable a home as that of Mr. Ko.

This, then, had been the thought uppermost with Mr. Kit-ze when contemplating the character of Jesus, the Divine Friend, and the thought of the possible worldly elevation the friendship might bring him. The missionary felt a deep pain at his heart as he realized whither Mr.

Kit-ze's thoughts had led him. But at the same time there was something in his att.i.tude to inspire hope. Mr. Kit-ze had been impressed. That was plainly evident. His mind was in a deep whirl of thought. Other and better things would surely be evolved from it in the end. Many times during that day he made fervent pet.i.tion for Mr. Kit-ze.

Mr. Kit-ze's perplexity increased as one thought after another came to him. The exalted teacher had not answered as he had hoped. All was still so uncertain, so unsatisfactory. Ah, now he knew what he would do! He would go to the daughter of the honorable teacher, to her who had the soft voice, the gentle ways, the kind heart. She could make it plain, she would tell it so that it would reach his understanding.

Helen's heart leaped as Mr. Kit-ze asked her the questions. She could see how deeply in earnest he was. Oh, could it be that he was at last awakened, that he would search until he had found the truth, would accept Jesus as the one faithful Friend? His first and second questions aroused these thoughts; but the third, how it disturbed her, as it had also disturbed her father. It was the same question about earthly honor and wealth.

"Dear Mr. Kit-ze," said Helen, taking his hand, and at that moment he felt that he would have done anything for her, "those who truly love Jesus, who have taken him as their Friend, do not think of such things in connection with what Jesus does for them. They know that whatever is best for them he will send, that whatever of good gifts they will use happily, he will bestow. But further than this they do not go, for, Mr.

Kit-ze, when once we have taken Jesus, we must trust him for everything.

We must not question or ask him for this thing or the other. Thus, Mr.

Kit-ze, if you had a worldly friend, one in whom you believed with all the mind, in whom you trusted with all the heart, would you not willingly follow that friend wherever he bade you go and take everything from him as meant for your good?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Kit-ze, "oh, yes."

"Well, thus it is with Jesus. When we take him for our Friend, truly take him, we do not require anything of him. We leave all that to him and only trust him. He loves us. Oh, how he loves, Mr. Kit-ze! He is the truest lover in all the world. Could he, or would he, then, do aught else but what is best for the one beloved?"

"Oh, daughter of the exalted teacher," said the boatman, his voice tremulous with some new-found emotion, "you have put that into Mr.

Kit-ze's heart which will make him think, think!" He went away with his hand still pressed upon his heart and murmuring to himself.

Helen had told her father of the presence of the stowaway in Mr. Ko's kitchen, and of her great surprise at finding him there.

"Oh, I suppose there isn't anything mysterious about it, Helen," her father made answer; "nothing to be dreaded from him, I know. He looked inoffensive enough, though sullen, and you remember we didn't find anything on his person. I am only astonished at the rapidity with which he has made his way up the river; but from what you have since learned and have told me, that too is clear."

Helen was glad her father took the man's presence in this way. She really felt sorry for the poor fellow. He had looked at her so pathetically the evening before ere she left the kitchen with Mr. Ko, and had murmured something in which she caught the words, "No harm, no harm." His eyes had not then the burning look she had noticed when they were fixed upon Mr. Kit-ze. Instead, they were soft and pleading.

She was ready now to tell Clarence and Dorothy. They had walked down to the bluff for a view of the river and of the track of the setting sun as it moved across the water like some golden-freighted craft.

Clarence, boylike, whistled his astonishment at the communication. "Why, Helen, how did he ever manage to get here so far ahead of us?" he asked at length. "It seems almost incredible."

"On a sampan, as I have told you Mr. Ko informed me. There isn't anything so strange about that. What troubles me is the feeling that he is following us."

"I think this time we followed him," observed Clarence trying to be a little witty.

"But he was evidently awaiting us here."

"Then we'll ask him his business," declared Clarence.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THEN, EXTENDING HIS HANDS, ENTREATED."]