collars, which had chafed their necks and shoulders, they looked curiously at me, talking and even laughing loudly. Once or twice one of them put a question to the big man with the sword, which he answered in a thick, feelingless voice.
In a few moments the Taotai appeared, a small, thin man in a black silken overgown and the regular official hat with a red button and a peacock feather as the insignia of his rank. When the Cossack interpreter made known to him my wishes, the official pointed to the red table and spoke at some length to the Cossack, frequently turning to me, as he spoke, with a smile or a salute.
"The Taotai offers his apologies and says that he will only be able to prepare your documents after half an hour, for just now he must pass sentence upon these hunghutzes, who have been taken red-handed in robbery. Note, please, the inscription on the red frontal cloth. It is very stern: 'Culprit, tremble!' To instil fear is a well-recognized element in the administration of the Chinese law."
"And who is the man with the sword?" I asked, even though I felt sure I should not require more than one guess to answer my own question.
"He is the executioner," answered the Cossack. "These poor men will surely be beheaded, for I heard one of them asking the executioner if he could sever the head from the body with one clean stroke."
While the Cossack was thus speaking with me, the Taotai had perused some papers, set his seal on them and again entered the conversation with many polite bows.
"The Taotai invites you to be present at the trial and at the execution," explained my interpreter. Unattracted
