A pitiful group they seemed—­men already doomed to certain death, fighting in an absolutely hopeless cause.  But as I looked the sparkling eyes and smiles of the sergeant to the right seemed to rebuke me.  Pity!  Maybe my pity was misplaced.  At least they were showing their countrymen an example of patriotism, however mistaken their method of displaying it might be.

They had a story to tell, for they had been in the fight that morning, and had retired before the Japanese.  The Japanese had the better position, and forty Japanese soldiers had attacked two hundred of them and they had given way.  But they had killed four Japanese, and the Japanese had only killed two of them and wounded three more.  Such was their account.

I did not ask them why, when they had killed twice as many as the enemy, they had yet retreated.  The real story of the fight I could learn later.  As they talked others came to join them—­two old men, one fully eighty, an old tiger-hunter, with bent back, grizzled face, and patriarchal beard.  The two newcomers carried the old Korean sporting rifles.  Other soldiers of the retreating force were outside.  There was a growing tumult in the street.  How long would it be before the triumphant Japanese, following up their victory, attacked the town?

I was not to have much peace that night.  In the street outside a hundred noisy disputes were proceeding between volunteers and the townsfolk.  The soldiers wanted shelter; the people, fearing the Japanese, did not wish to let them in.  A party of them crowded into an empty building adjoining the house where I was, and they made the place ring with their disputes and recriminations.

Very soon the officer who had been in charge of the men during the fight that day called on me.  He was a comparatively young man, dressed in the ordinary long white garments of the better-class Koreans.  I asked him what precautions he had taken against a night attack, for if the Japanese knew where we were they would certainly come on us.  Had he any outposts placed in positions?  Was the river-way guarded?  “There is no need for outposts,” he replied.  “Every Korean man around watches for us.”

I cross-examined him about the constitution of the rebel army.  How were they organized?  From what he told me, it was evident that they had practically no organization at all.  There were a number of separate bands held together by the loosest ties.  A rich man in each place found the money.  This he secretly gave to one or two open rebels, and they gathered adherents around them.

He admitted that the men were in anything but a good way.  “We may have to die,” he said.  “Well, so let it be.  It is much better to die as a free man than to live as the slave of Japan.”