e
the figure of fun to irreverent American crowds. He sincerely wished
to preserve him from what he felt must be an unpleasant experience. He
was even more anxious to protect his old friend from what would
probably be in store for him, than through any selfish desire to
retain his services.

"Come back again four month," observed Li. "Not long time. Want to
go." Young Withers sighed. It was impossible to explain to the old
man. There were pitfalls and pitfalls, he well knew. Yet he had never
been to America himself, so could not speak from experience. Only the
evening before he had been dining in company with a wise woman of
sorts, a French lady who had lived in a cave in Tibet for some years,
pursuing reluctant hermits into their mountain fastnesses in order to
obtain elucidation on certain Buddhist books. She had told him frankly
that she was bound back again for her cave, or for the wilds of
Mongolia, but never, under any circumstances, could she trust herself
to the risks of American civilization. Young Withers tried to explain
something of this to the old man, who was very patient and did not
interrupt him, but the seed was falling on barren ground. If he could
just understand English better, thought Withers, I might be able to
make him see. So Withers' oratory was lost, to a large degree, and
when he came to a pause Li repeated, without emphasis,

"Want go America."

"But you're too old!" exclaimed the young man, exasperated by such
obstinacy. "Too--you're too--you're not strong enough. You're
too--delicate----"

"Want go America. Four month. Come back then," said Li, and Withers
gave it up. Two weeks later Li was standing on the deck of a small
Japanese liner bound from Tientsin to Kobe, from which port he would
transship to a larger Japanese liner bound for San Francisco. He took
with him many bundles of odd sizes, wrapped in coarse blue cotton,
seemingly of no value. He waved a dignified farewell from the rail,
and young Withers, on the dock, watched the departure of his old
compradore with infinite misgivings.

Four months, including the passage both ways, proved much too long a
time in which to see America. Li returned unexpectedly one day, within
half that time, a silent and broken man. His blue bundles, whatever
their mystery, were gone, his rich brocade coat was gone, and gone
also was his confidence and trust in human kind. Only his thick,
glossy, long queu remained to him,--that, and a singular ta