THE TURN OF THE SWORD
 
 the 
 
 TURN 
 
 of the 
 
 SWORD 
 
 Ay t 
 
 CHaclmn Savage 
 
 Chicago 
 
 EGJftrownc&G
 
 The "Turn 
 
 of 
 The Sword 
 
 BY 
 
 C. MACLEAN SAVAGE 
 
 WITH FRONTISPIECE IN COLORS AND 
 DECORATIONS BY THE KINNEYS 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 F. G. BROWNE & CO. 
 1913
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1913 
 BY F. G. BROWNE & CO. 
 
 Copyright, 1912 
 By Frank A. Munsey Co. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Copyright in England 
 
 PUBLISHED, FEBRUARY, 
 
 THE PLIMPTON 'PRESS 
 
 [ W. D -O] 
 NORWOOD.MASS'U'S'A
 
 To 
 
 T. N. M. 
 
 WHO MADE THIS STORY POSSIBLE 
 
 2138146
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. A BLOW WITH A SWORD 3 
 
 II. A FORTRESS IN THE FOREST. ... 18 
 
 III. A DENTED HELMET OF BRONZE . . 24 
 
 IV. THE MARK OF THE BLACK BOAR'S SWORD 39 
 V. A BRAZEN RING UNDER THE MATTING 54 
 
 VI. A ZIGZAG PATH UP THE MOUNTAINSIDE 65 
 
 VII. BROKEN FINGERS . ... . . . 75 
 
 VIII. A HALTED VERSE IN A POEM ... 84 
 IX. YELLOW LIGHT THROUGH THE SHOJI 
 
 WALLS . 97 
 
 X. THE WISH FOR THE SECOND SWORD . no 
 
 XI. THE SIGHT OF AN UGLY FACE . . . 127 
 
 XII. BLACK ARMOR SEEN IN THE SUNSET . 136 
 
 XIII. A ROLLING STONE OF HATE . . . 157 
 
 XIV. A BROKEN SWORD IN THE FOREST . . 170 
 XV. A LISTENING EAR BEHIND A SCREEN . 189 
 
 XVI. A KIMONO OF WHITE ON A MAIDEN . 198 
 XVII. Two RICE PLANTS TORN UP BY THE 
 
 ROOTS ......... 210 
 
 XVIII. A DESERTED SHOJI UPON THE MARSH 224 
 
 XIX. A HEAP OF BLACKENED ASHES . . . 237 
 
 XX. THE KNIGHTS OF THE PURPLE LOTUS . 250 
 
 XXI. THE SHADOW OF A PINE-TREE . 261
 
 Vlll 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XXII. THE MAN WITH THE SCAR . 
 
 XXIII. LIKE BLACK ANTS AND BROWN 
 
 XXIV. A CRAWLING THING IN THE GRASS 
 XXV. THE RUSTLING REEDS OF PURSUIT. 
 
 XXVI. A BLOW WITH THE SAME SWORD . 
 XXVII. RED RIVER AND MOUNTAIN OF PINES. 
 XXVIII. AN HONORABLE CEREMONY OF MAR- 
 RIAGE 
 
 XXIX. A TEAR UPON A PAINTED SAUCER . 
 XXX. WHAT SAID THE TAPPER OF LAQUER 
 TREES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 273 
 281 
 291 
 
 305 
 312 
 
 327 
 
 356 
 366
 
 kapterl 
 Blow-ith 
 
 THE high and sacred sun beat down upon 
 the fields and streams of old Japan. The 
 banners of the house of the Red River 
 blazed in the breeze; scantily clad servants filled 
 the palace yard with color and noise; kites and 
 flags and lanterns danced on their strings. 
 
 In the royal gardens they were putting the finish- 
 ing touches on the pavilions, with the hurried sound 
 of hammering and chopping, the rustle of rich tex- 
 tures, the ring of metals and china, and the low 
 murmurs of the artisans. 
 
 Out in the countryside, where the temple bells 
 tinkled in the cedar groves and the willows drooped 
 over reeded pools, there was great bustling on the 
 narrow brown roads, and the dust flew high from 
 the pattering of bare feet. Through the dust the 
 sun flashed on purple, red, and yellow silk.
 
 4 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 All naked coolie, silk-swathed noble, palanquin 
 bearer, or princess hastened toward the palace. 
 For it was the birthday of the young prince. 
 
 It was to be a gala day. Word had been sent 
 about that there would be wrestling contests, acro- 
 bats, and best of all a fencing match between 
 the young prince himself and his fourteen-year-old 
 cousin, the Black Boar. 
 
 The sword reigned then, for by its might the 
 Daimyo like the feudal barons of Europe held 
 sway over their lands and subjects. After the 
 Daimyo came the Samurai, or knights, to each of 
 whom bearing two swords, so wonderfully forged, 
 so tempered, so sleek, made by men who spent half 
 their lives as apprentices, blessed by the priests 
 the sword was the acme of all that was noble; its 
 bearer next to divine. 
 
 All in the hot sun the coolie-borne palanquins 
 swept past the peasants standing ankle deep in the 
 rice fields, shading their eyes and staring after the 
 rich folk, and toward the group of long, low build- 
 ings whose red-tile roofs made a splash of color 
 against the camphor trees. 
 
 Oh-ei! There would be great events in the 
 palace gardens. Bright fountains would sparkle, 
 rich food would be eaten, brave men would strut 
 and clank among throngs of gorgeously arrayed 
 women. The sigh of the peasant of old Japan
 
 A BLOW WITH A SWORD 5 
 
 would be only momentary; he would bend his 
 back, and his fingers would pull away at the stalks 
 of the food he was never destined to eat. 
 
 There was to be a great feast at the palace of 
 the Daimyo. The Daimyo was great and a peas- 
 ant was but a peasant. Might all the gods of 
 the heavens and the hells bless the Daimyo y bless 
 the mighty Ackagawa, bless the noble house of the 
 Red River! 
 
 Within the great stone gates of the palace grounds 
 two men met on a winding path strewn with white 
 pebbles. 
 
 The younger of the two was about forty-five, 
 tall for a Japanese, slender, and dignified. He wore 
 a kimono of black, covered partly by the coat of 
 ceremony, a stiff haori of crackling silk, embroidered 
 with a neat design, representing a pine tree on a 
 mountain peak. A sash of yellow was about his 
 waist, a fan stuck into the folds. 
 
 His head was shaven, except for a queue which was 
 rolled up into a topknot and drawn down over the 
 well-shaped skull. He was every inch the aristo- 
 crat, the face oval, the cheek bones high, while a 
 long black mustache, parted in the middle, drooped 
 over the thin-lipped mouth. 
 
 The other, shorter, broader, and rounder of 
 countenance, was a man of perhaps sixty. His 
 bushy eyebrows were gray; tiny eyes that twinkled
 
 6 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 merrily shone out from under them. His mouth 
 was full-lipped and partly open, showing but a few 
 teeth, that protruded slightly. 
 
 He wore his queue the same as the other, over his 
 round old head, except that it was less the work of 
 careful hair-dressing. His kimono was of gray and 
 black striped silk, bound with a crimson sash, to 
 show his servitude to the reigning house. He was 
 plainly also of the nobility, for his haori was em- 
 broidered with a black and gray cross-barred 
 tortoise. 
 
 "And dost thou think, O Hida," said the taller 
 man, in condescending tone, "that the skill of a 
 soldier of Shikoku can compare with the art of a 
 Matsuyama?" 
 
 "I know not, high excellency," answered the 
 shorter man deferentially. "The result of this sport 
 alone will show. His sublime majesty has been my 
 pupil since he was six years old. I have taught 
 him all I know, all I learned in the wars of his father." 
 
 "Carefully, Hida, carefully! Speak softly of 
 that. Remember the sword is buried. The prince 
 may his name be honored forever is no longer 
 my foe." 
 
 "A thousand bows of my head in pardon, high 
 excellency. I will remember. I most humbly take 
 my leave." 
 
 As Hida made a profound bow, the Baron Matsu-
 
 A BLOW WITH A SWORD 7 
 
 yama snapped open his fan and turned sharply on 
 his stool-like shoes of wood. 
 
 Behind his long sleeves Hida chuckled. 
 
 "There is acid in thy tongue yet, old turtle," he 
 remarked to himself as he passed under tall poles 
 of bamboo hung with brilliant paper pennants. "It 
 pleases not his excellency of foxes to be reminded 
 of his bitter gruel of defeat. Gods of my ancestors ! 
 Why was he not buried deep in the snows of yonder 
 mountains in that last battle there upon their 
 steeps? " 
 
 The old man passed out from among the gro- 
 tesque shrubbery and to the gate itself, now open 
 and guarded by dragons of hewn rock, perched high 
 upon crooked pillars. A file of soldiers guarded as 
 well. They saluted the sword teacher, guardian, 
 and body-servant of the young prince. 
 
 A span of coolies bearing a palanquin paused to 
 allow him to pass in front of them. A hiss sounded 
 from within the litter, followed by a rustle of silk. 
 But Hida the Faithful paid no attention to the 
 sound. 
 
 The house of the Ackagawa the Red River 
 reigned supreme in the kingdom. Its wars with 
 the house of the Mountain of Pines were over in 
 the defeat of the Matsuyama clan. Fine thought 
 it was for old Hida, for he was Ackagawa to the 
 depths of his bones.
 
 8 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 What pleased him not at all was that the Matsu- 
 yama had wormed their way back into royal favor, 
 for the Daimyo believed by giving them power he 
 would stop further rebellion. Hida dared think 
 that the Daimyo did not know the Matsuyama as 
 well as he, who saw treacherous light in the eyes 
 of that old fox, the Baron Matsuyama. 
 
 Long had he trained his pupil for this day, and 
 now it was at hand. The Matsuyama and the 
 Ackagawa would come together in a friendly exhi- 
 bition of swordsmanship. Men would nod their 
 heads, fair ladies would hiss their approval, the boys 
 would be given a taste of the struggle for supremacy. 
 Yes, it would all be in sport a gala day! Yet 
 the prophetic heart of old Hida told him there 
 was deviltry behind it. 
 
 Hida struck off to his left through a grove of 
 stunted cedars. Coming out from their shade, a 
 bamboo shoji stood before him, surrounded by a 
 ring of stolid soldiers and bustling, bare-legged 
 servants. He passed unmolested by the carved 
 pillars that held up the sloping thatch, and entered. 
 
 "Dog, and son of a dog!" cried a young voice. 
 "Wert thou calling the boy of a million names who 
 fell down a well that thou shouldst dawdle so? 
 Rise, old turtle, and answer do I look fit?" 
 
 A boy of twelve years stood with arms akimbo 
 on clear-skinned hips, for he was naked but for a
 
 A BLOW WITH A SWORD 9 
 
 silken loin cloth. Hida rose from his position of 
 lying flat on the matting, face between palms, at 
 the lad's command, and stood looking, the wrinkled 
 face gleaming with admiration. 
 
 "Fit, my little prince!" he answered. "Fit 
 enough for the Black Boar or any spawn of the 
 Matsuyama. What have they done?" 
 
 "The hot bath and the oil," answered the boy 
 prince. "I told them I would put on not a garment 
 from shuban to breastplate till thou hadst seen 
 my muscles. How are they, thinkest thou, old 
 weasel?" 
 
 Hida, chuckling at the familiar box on the ears, 
 felt the boy's sinewy arms and legs with the old 
 soldier's pride in physical strength. Then he bawled 
 authoritatively to the servants to bring in the lad's 
 clothes. 
 
 They were brought, the shuban of purest raw 
 silk, sleeveless and reaching almost to the knees; 
 next a leather jerkin of tanned ox-hide with sleeves 
 to the wrist, and trunks of the same stout mate- 
 rial. These, laced on by the deft old fingers, were 
 followed by a shirt of chain mail. Over this again 
 came the breastplate of bronze, the jointed apron, 
 arm plates, and shin plates. 
 
 In full armor the young Prince Rennoske of the 
 Ackagawa stood before the admiring eyes of his 
 teacher. Then came the four-pointed, crested
 
 io THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 helmet, placed reverently on the boy's shaven 
 pate and the strap fastened under the firm little 
 chin. 
 
 "So!" exclaimed Hida. "Where are the hundred 
 Kuroki Obuto to stand in the tournament against 
 thee?" 
 
 "Hold!" answered the prince. "Remember my 
 cousin is fourteen, while I am but twelve. He is 
 taught, too, by that sly old fox, the Baron Matsu- 
 yama, his father perhaps he may win." 
 
 "Out upon such thoughts! Where is the Matsu- 
 yama that stands in the field against an Ackagawa 
 or ever could?" 
 
 "Come then, old owl," piped the boy, and he 
 led the way through the open walls of the shoji. 
 
 Strutting and clanking like a full-grown Samurai, 
 the boy refused the litter that awaited him and 
 strode down the pebble-strewn path under a trellis- 
 work that hung heavy with lavender wistaria. 
 Servants bowed to the earth, soldiers saluted as 
 he passed. Unconcerned he walked on, prattling 
 to the old man beside him. 
 
 And now they came upon a semicircular stone 
 bridge, the full circle reflected in the water beneath, 
 speckled with the broad green leaves and the white 
 blooms of the pond lilies. 
 
 With the "Hei! hei!" of the six carriers a litter 
 mounted the span and came toward them.
 
 A BLOW WITH A SWORD n 
 
 The boy halted. Hida saw his tiny eyebrows 
 come together in a frown. 
 
 "I wear the red for you," came a shrill voice from 
 within the palanquin. "I wear the red for you, 
 O my little prince. The black of the Matsuyama 
 is not for Madame Golden Glow today." 
 
 A head popped from behind yellow silk curtains 
 as the litter came abreast of Hida and the prince. 
 The face was that of a woman of forty-five, yet 
 every art of the East had striven to make it twenty. 
 The eyebrows were heavily blackened, the lips were 
 scarlet, the face itself painted a chalky white, the 
 cheeks a flaming pink. On the head that nature 
 had covered with autumnal gray was a black silk 
 wig, resplendent with various jeweled gewgaws. 
 
 "How does my honorable father?" asked the 
 boy, every tone showing his dislike of the woman 
 he was forced to be polite to. "Comes he to the 
 match?" 
 
 "Nay," answered the painted woman. "His 
 Supreme Highness the Daimyo is not so well today." 
 
 "And my honorable mother?" queried the lad 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Your mother," the woman went on with an ill- 
 hidden sneer, "your mother likes not the clash of 
 swords, even as is between the Black Boar and 
 your highness, in play. Your mother would cuddle 
 you, which you would not like O my prince."
 
 12 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "My mother is beautiful!" the boy spoke up. 
 
 The woman hissed. The laugh of the Orient 
 suited her it was easy to feign, and the boy's 
 slur upon her ugliness hurt. Well she knew and 
 dreaded the charms of the Princess Cho-Cho, second 
 wife of the Daimyo. Feared her, too, for she had 
 won a high place in the court by the birth of this 
 boy the son and heir. 
 
 "There is room here in the litter with me," she 
 said, regaining her composure. "Wouldst deign to 
 ride with Kin-no-Yaku San?" 
 
 "So?" answered the boy. "But that would be 
 cuddling, and Madame Golden Glow has just said 
 I would not like that." 
 
 And running his arm through Hida's, the boy 
 strode cockily along the path that, lined with 
 blooming rosebushes, skirted the bank of the 
 sluggish stream. 
 
 "I wear the red for you, O my prince!" the 
 woman called after him. "I wear the red for you!" 
 
 "And the black of the Matsuyama in thy heart, 
 old crow," said Rennoske, as they walked briskly 
 upward on a rise of smooth green lawn. 
 
 "So," exclaimed Hida. "Truly speaks my little 
 warrior, for were it not for yon ancient cormorant, 
 the house of the Mountain of Pines would now feed 
 fat on some other prince. Truly your father, the 
 Daimyo, lost in peace all that he gained in war."
 
 A BLOW WITH A SWORD 13 
 
 "Gods of my ancestors!" snapped the prince in 
 a rage. "Dost thou dare!" 
 
 But before the last of the angry speech had left 
 the boy's lips Hida the Faithful had prostrated 
 himself on the grass. 
 
 "My head!" moaned the old man. "Take off 
 my unworthy head with its babbling tongue. It 
 would be an honor to die by your sword!" 
 
 The prince, frowning, looked down on the grovel- 
 ing figure. Then a smile lighted his chubby face. 
 
 The old man was right, after all. Even though 
 a boy of twelve, he knew that the machinations of 
 Madame Golden Glow, then a beautiful woman, 
 had brought the hated Matsuyama back to court, 
 undoing the work the soldiers of the Daimyo had 
 fought twelve years to accomplish. 
 
 "Thou wizened, crawling tortoise!" exclaimed 
 the boy, reaching down and catching Hida by the 
 rolled-up queue on the top of his head. "Arise and 
 let us give the house of the Mountain of Pines their 
 due, even though it be in sport eh, old owl?" 
 
 Hida rose and chuckled gleefully for a man who 
 has just staked his head. 
 
 They had come to a large lawn before a paved 
 court. Through the leaves of the camphor trees 
 could be faintly seen the red roofs of the palaces. 
 In the center of the lawn was raised a heavy red 
 canopy, about twelve feet from the ground, held
 
 i 4 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 there by four stout poles of bamboo. Round this, 
 in a circle, row on row, sat the nobility and gentry 
 squatting upon the grass. 
 
 In the shade of the canopy itself, two monu- 
 mentally fat and almost naked wrestlers pushed, 
 pulled, and tugged. The grunting of the combatants 
 and the snap of the referee's fan were the only 
 sounds. 
 
 The many-hued kimonos of the men and the 
 brilliant sashes of the women shone in the afternoon 
 sunlight. Silence prevailed; the undemonstrative- 
 ness of the Oriental aristocrat seemed to make the 
 flutterings of the white and yellow butterflies heard. 
 
 At sight of the prince the squatting silken figures 
 bowed to earth. The wrestlers stopped. 
 
 The boy haughtily strode to an arbor of twisted 
 bamboo hung with wistaria. There he sat on the 
 soft, shaded ground, watching the two weighty 
 giants tug and push each other once more. 
 
 At length the baron's favorite wrestler succeeded 
 in pushing his adversary out of the square marked 
 off as the battleground and the referee tapped him 
 on the shoulder with his fan, signifying victory. 
 The baron himself, standing tall and conspicuous 
 under a maple, stroked his mustache and slowly 
 nodded his well-formed head. 
 
 There was just the faintest hum of conversation 
 while two more ponderous wrestlers were intro-
 
 A BLOW WITH A SWORD 15 
 
 duced. They squatted upon the ground, facing 
 each other like two snarling pug dogs. 
 
 One lifted his hand the other did the same. 
 The first lifted his other hand the second kept 
 his spread-fingered on the ground. Snap! went the 
 fan of the gorgeously attired referee. Then grunt, 
 tug, push the match was on. 
 
 While this was in progress a boy of fourteen in 
 clanking black armor strode to the baron and spoke 
 to him. The dignified noble nodded and smiled, 
 then stroked his mustache again, while the boy 
 retired to another trellised arbor. 
 
 The second and third matches over, with a victory 
 for the baron's men, a group of scarlet-clad acrobats 
 jumped into the ring. 
 
 There was a rustle of stiff silk haori, a snapping 
 of many fans, and another hum of conversation in 
 the pause that followed. The referee then stepped 
 out from the shade of the canopy and, bowing to 
 the assembly, announced in a droning voice: 
 
 "A demonstration of the honorable art of dueling 
 with the long sword between the Count Kuroki 
 Obuto, pupil of his most esteemed father, His High 
 Excellency the Baron Matsuyama, and His Most 
 Gracious, Most Exalted and Sublime Highness, 
 the Prince Rennoske of the Ackagawa, pupil of 
 his teacher and guardian, the Shikoku Captain of 
 Swordsmen, Hida the Tortoise."
 
 16 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 The boys the count in his black armor, the 
 prince in his of bronze and gold came together 
 from either side of the lawn and stood facing each 
 other at a distance of about thirty feet. The baron 
 came slowly down to his son, and after bowing 
 gravely to the prince, placed an enormous plume of 
 black feathers on top of the Black Boar's helmet. 
 
 Hida, now resplendent in a short kimono of blue, 
 placed a similar crimson plume on the crest of the 
 prince's helmet. The referee now brought forth 
 the long swords upon a cushion. 
 
 The prince, with a wave of his hand, gave first 
 choice to his cousin, and the baron, with all the 
 dignity of his position, tried them, one by one. 
 He made his selection, and Hida, waving and 
 snapping each keen weapon, did the same for the 
 prince. 
 
 A gong buzzed brazen, and the boys came together 
 and saluted. 
 
 Then, the handle of the long sword grasped 
 firmly in both gauntlet-covered hands, they stamped 
 and feinted, circling round each other, watching 
 eyes on watching eyes. 
 
 A blade gleamed a half-circle in the sunlight and 
 a dozen black feathers fluttered to the ground. 
 Quick came the other sword in a half-circle; but 
 quicker still was the parry than the sweep. The 
 prince caught the thrust on the edge of his own
 
 A BLOW WITH A SWORD 17 
 
 sword and shot it swiftly upward, snipping off 
 another handful of the black feathers. 
 
 The Black Boar scowled. 
 
 Stamping and clanking, swords clashing cymbal- 
 like together, the boys fought on. A cut a parry 
 a thrust for the legs a jump, and the return 
 cut for the head. It was plainly evident to the 
 bank of tense faces over the sea of gently moving 
 fans that the skill of Hida outgeneraled the cunning 
 of the wily baron. 
 
 On went the tourney still the black feathers 
 fluttered to the sunlit grass, still the crimson plume 
 shone untouched. 
 
 Suddenly Hida cried out! 
 
 The black armor being slowly driven back by 
 the gold and bronze that was all the mass of 
 brown and yellow faces saw. But the old man had 
 seen the black foot pass behind the bronze ankle 
 saw the prince stagger. 
 
 Then, like a gleam of white lightning, a sword 
 circled. There was the crash of metal on metal. 
 The bronze and gold armor swayed, then fell to 
 the earth with a dull clanking!
 
 Chapter II 
 A Fortress in the Forest 
 
 SWIFTER than all the swift feet, Hida was 
 the first to reach the prince's side, and in 
 a twinkling unstrapped the dented helmet. 
 He was the first to see the shaven head clotted 
 with blood and the ugly gash in the scalp. He 
 looked into the glassy eyes, saw the hanging 
 jaw. 
 
 "I've killed him!" shrieked the Black Boar, 
 looking over the old man's shoulders. "Ten million 
 curses on my head. I've killed his highness the 
 prince!" 
 
 The boy ran pell-mell into his father. 
 
 "Hold thy tongue, lad," whispered the baron. 
 "Twas a good blow." 
 
 Then allowing the boy to run wild, shouting the 
 fearful tidings, his high excellency glanced at the 
 prince's upturned face. 
 
 "The light has gone from the stars," he moaned, 
 falling down upon the ground. "The fire has gone 
 from the sun. He is dead he is dead the 
 Prince Rennoske is dead!"
 
 A FORTRESS IN THE FOREST 19 
 
 And the Baron Matsuyama dug his nails in the 
 sod and cast the dust of the earth on his head. 
 
 "He is dead he is dead wo! wo! wo!" 
 howled the men. 
 
 "He is dead the Prince Rennoske the son 
 of the Daimyo is dead!" shrieked the women. 
 
 They ran hither and thither, moaning, wailing, 
 falling down upon their faces in a bedlam of despair. 
 
 Only two in that crowd of panic-stricken creatures 
 were calm. They soon stood face to face. One 
 was the now upright figure of the Baron Matsuyama, 
 the other Hida the Faithful, with the prince in his 
 arms. 
 
 Matsuyama blocked the way. 
 
 "Hida, give me the blessed corpse," he snarled. 
 "I would take it to his father." 
 
 "There is none to give, high excellency," replied 
 Hida quickly. "The light has not gone from the 
 stars." 
 
 "Dog give me the body!" 
 
 "I'll give thee this, thou snake!" 
 
 With a lightning-like movement of his bowed old 
 leg, Hida placed a well-directed kick in the pit of 
 the baron's stomach, sending that dignified noble 
 sprawling upon the turf. Then, gathering the limp 
 body in his arms, he darted away through a long 
 row of rosebushes. 
 
 Pattering through tulip beds, the old man gave
 
 20 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 forth a peculiar bell-like cry. Again it rose throb- 
 bing from his throat. It was answered faintly, 
 once behind, then thrice ahead of him. 
 
 He sped on through the poppy beds. 
 
 As he crunched the pebbles of the path to the 
 gate, the bell-like cry echoed all about him. From 
 all directions armor-clad men ran toward him, 
 fierce-faced men they were, brandishing swords 
 and longbows. 
 
 "To the stone fortress!" yelled Hida as they 
 came up. "Guard me with your lives!" 
 
 The soldiers, fifteen in all, made a circle about 
 him and ran on. As they clanked, crunched, and 
 panted over the path, through the cedars and onto 
 the road, they were joined by ten more. 
 
 Beyond the gate of the stone dragons five more 
 awaited them, armed like the rest, armored and war- 
 like. Out of the opening they turned to the right 
 and, with increased pace, went down a long hill. 
 
 The daisies slapped against their shins. Below 
 them stretched the black and green of a dense wood. 
 
 Once a deformed dwarf, his face as ugly as an 
 ape's, popped out of a thicket and barred their way. 
 Like a rabbit, he scurried from their path, lost in 
 the underbrush. 
 
 "His Excellency Baron of the Underworld will 
 know where we are going," panted Hida. "Let 
 him come then."
 
 A FORTRESS IN THE FOREST 21 
 
 "Is it war?" asked the nearest knight. 
 
 "Who knows?" responded the old man. "We 
 had best be ready." 
 
 "So," answered the knight. "He will find the 
 Fifty ever ready. See, some of the other twenty 
 await us." 
 
 They had now come upon the edge of the forest, 
 where the beeches appeared to have no end. The 
 giant trees stood like pillars of a cathedral whose 
 floor was brown with the waste and litter of a 
 hundred years. Here and there were more armored 
 knights, who peered anxiously from thicket and 
 copse. 
 
 Seeing their fellows on the run, they led the way 
 through the dense branches and underbrush, till 
 at length they came to a low building, with walls 
 of heavy stones and roof almost hidden by arching 
 pines. 
 
 The size of the fortress was hardly distinguish- 
 able, so cunningly was it hidden by the interlacing 
 boughs above, grass-grown mounds on three sides, 
 and the ledgelike rock behind, of which it seemed 
 a part. 
 
 As Hida reached the yawning, black entrance, 
 five guardian soldiers about it quickly stepped aside; 
 then, as the old man and his burden entered, they 
 closed up the gap with a solid mass of bronze and 
 glistening steel.
 
 22 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Zuri is missing," said one. "Did he not hear 
 the signal?" 
 
 "Perhaps the Pine Mountain Devil has seized 
 him," hissed another. 
 
 A cry re-echoed through the woods, nearer and 
 nearer. Crashing through the bushes came another 
 knight, rushing and staggering. 
 
 "Wo, wo!" he wailed. "A million years of wo 
 the prince is dead the prince is dead!" 
 
 "How now, Zuri," said the first speaker; "why 
 bring you stale news? The Prince Rennoske lies 
 here. Where wert thou when the signal of danger 
 was given?" 
 
 "Wo, wo a million years of wo!" continued 
 Zuri, catching hold of a branch. "The old prince 
 is dead!" 
 
 "How say you? Nay, it is the young prince." 
 
 "Aye, and the old prince too, the Daimyo him- 
 self. The Black Boar ran to where our most noble 
 ruler lay sleeping under the canopy of his fathers 
 in the palace and waked him with hideous cries that 
 he had slain the Prince Rennoske. Never a word 
 did the Daimyo answer, only stared. And when 
 the women came they found him dead. Wo, wo 
 a million years of wo!" 
 
 The Baron Matsuyama picked himself up with 
 a curse. A hiss beside him made him look down.
 
 A FORTRESS IN THE FOREST 23 
 
 It was the deformed creature the Ugly Dwarf. 
 
 "News, high excellency," he whispered. "The 
 prince is dead." 
 
 "Aye," answered the baron, "and the dog Hida 
 has taken him." 
 
 "Even so," the dwarf went on. "To the cave of 
 the Fifty. But the prince, his father the Daimyo 
 of the Ackagawa he lies dead as well the news 
 the Black Boar brought killed him. He lies dead 
 in the palace, mourned by the women." 
 
 The baron stroked his long black mustache 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "Wait for news under the bridge," he whispered. 
 
 The Ugly Dwarf darted away. The Baron Mat- 
 suyama walked slowly toward a litter that came 
 his way. He bade the six bearers halt and, thrust- 
 ing aside the yellow silk curtains, poked his head 
 within. 
 
 "You know?" asked the painted woman inside. 
 
 "I know," he answered under his mustache. 
 "Play well the grief. We must not strike too soon." 
 
 "I know, high excellency," she answered with 
 a hiss. 
 
 "The omen of the wrestlers," he growled. " It is a 
 glorious day for the house of the Mountain of Pines." 
 
 "To the palace and quickly!" he cried to the 
 six bearers, and, nodding his well-formed head, he 
 entered the litter of Madame Golden Glow.
 
 Chapter HI \ 
 
 A Dented Helmet of Bronze 
 
 SQUATTING cross-legged on the matting 
 sat Hida the Faithful. A brazen image, he 
 moved not a muscle. His almond eyes were 
 riveted on a heap of soft coverlets, whereunder lay 
 a boy. 
 
 The eyes now watched the lad's face, where 
 yesterday they had watched his chest for a sign of 
 the rise and fall. The chest now moved up and 
 down, the breath coming rhythmically; but the 
 pale face was a blank the eyes staring at the solid 
 rock of the ceiling. 
 
 The bloodless lips moved. Hida listened. "Some 
 day," faintly whispered the boy, "some day 
 some day." 
 
 "What would you have, my prince?" asked the 
 old man. 
 
 "The cherry blossoms are pink," whined the lad. 
 "Pink as thy cheeks, O my mother!" 
 
 "Gods of my ancestors!" exclaimed Hida to 
 himself, still in his Buddha-like pose. "What cruel 
 fate directed the blow to my prince's helmet? A
 
 DENTED HELMET OF BRONZE 25 
 
 million curses on the head of the Black Boar. May 
 his arm wither and rot! 
 
 "What does it matter now if the prince lives? 
 What does his body matter now that the thousand- 
 petaled lotus, his mind, is dead? Shall I save him 
 to sit an imbecile on the throne ? Better a 
 thousand times better he should die. What is 
 it, little warrior?" 
 
 The boy stirred uneasily. "Some day some 
 day " he whined again. 
 
 A soldier entered with a bowl of pheasant broth 
 and rice. Hida gave the dish to the prince, who ate 
 slowly and mechanically. Then the boy lay down 
 again, the same words, like the burden of a refrain, 
 coming faintly through his lips. 
 
 As the shadows lengthened, Hida the Faithful 
 watched his charge. Nothing was heard but the 
 soughing of the pine boughs and the clank of armor 
 as the knights of the Fifty marched stolidly up and 
 down. 
 
 Suddenly the figure of Zuri stood in the rock- 
 hewn doorway. 
 
 "A learned physician has come, O captain!" 
 said the soldier. "He waits to see his young high- 
 ness." 
 
 "Who does he say sent him?" 
 
 "The Princess Cho-Cho San the prince's 
 mother."
 
 26 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Bid him enter stay! Stand you to right 
 of the opening here and bid Hagachi stand at the 
 left. Should I clap my hands thus strike! You 
 have heard." 
 
 In a few moments a bent figure shuffled into the 
 dim apartment. It wore a long robe of brown, and 
 round horn glasses. The long mustache was gray, 
 a long gray beard straggled from the chin. 
 
 "I bring sweet herbs and soothing potions," he 
 squeaked. "The exalted mother of the prince bade 
 me come." 
 
 He crossed to the boy and knelt by his side. 
 
 "A cup," the doctor squeaked again. "I see 
 by his staring eyes that his glorious and sublime 
 highness needs sleep. I would give him a potion." 
 
 "There is a cup at thine elbow," answered Hida, 
 watching the man closely. 
 
 "El, but it is dirty! Or let me pour some of the 
 liquid on his tongue, and he may drink afterward. 
 Fetch me some water." 
 
 "I'll fetch naught, high excellency." 
 
 "How speakest thou?" snarled the doctor in a 
 deeper voice. 
 
 "I'll fetch naught," answered Hida threateningly. 
 "Naught for thee, Baron Matsuyama." 
 
 "Shaka!" 
 
 In an instant the beard and glasses were gone, 
 as were the stoop and squeaky voice.
 
 DENTED HELMET OF BRONZE 27 
 
 A terrible figure, the baron towered over the still 
 squatting Hida. 
 
 "One clap of my hands," said the old soldier, 
 "and you go to join your fathers in the seventh 
 hell. Look behind you, high excellency." 
 
 The baron stole a quick glance over his shoulder. 
 His hawklike eye caught the glint of steel on either 
 side of the stone archway. 
 
 "And what wouldst thou gain, low-born dog of 
 Shikoku?" he muttered. "No one but your men 
 saw the doctor enter. The body of the Baron 
 Matsuyama is found. Who is guilty? 
 
 "Dost thou think, slow-witted turtle, I leave 
 without my destination being known? If I return 
 not within the hour, thou and the Fifty aye, and 
 thy prince would go hellward as quickly as they 
 sent me. How knowest thou I meant harm by the 
 prince?" 
 
 "I know not," returned Hida. "But by the look 
 of a certain helmet I took from his highness's head 
 I can suspect, high excellency." 
 
 "Dost thou mean I tampered with his majesty's 
 helmet? Thou liest, dog of Shikoku thou Rest!" 
 
 "Mayhap I do, high excellency, yet a helmet of 
 bronze is hard to dent under the blow of a jousting 
 long sword and wielded by the hand of a boy of 
 fourteen." 
 
 The baron stroked his long mustache, scattering
 
 28 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 the white powder that had disguised its blackness. 
 He nodded his head, and his voice came, velvet 
 steel within: 
 
 "Hida, I have in my forest a palace. Methinks 
 a visit there might help thee." 
 
 Hida shivered involuntarily. 
 
 "Below the floor," went on the baron, "is a deep 
 dungeon where no cries are heard. I have there 
 a pretty toy for thee to play with. A cage it is, 
 a little more than thy height. Through a hole in 
 the top thy head would stick, while thy body and 
 feet dangled within. 
 
 "If thou stretchest thy twisted legs, the tips of 
 thy toes would now and then just touch the floor. 
 Then, with thorns in thy eyelids to keep thee awake, 
 thou wouldst not sleep for days or eat aught but 
 thy words. Wouldst thou visit me soon, Hida?" 
 
 And with a snarl the baron turned and strode 
 from the cavelike room. 
 
 The shadows lengthened and broadened till they 
 covered all with their blackness. Striking fire from 
 a tinder box, the old man lighted the floating wick 
 in a glass of oil. The flickering light cast a great 
 black shape on the rock wall, the shade of Hida the 
 Faithful watching, watching, watching through 
 the long, silent night. 
 
 In the morning the young prince seemed a little
 
 DENTED HELMET OF BRONZE 29 
 
 better, for he sat up in his bed and looked about 
 him. 
 
 " Do you know old Hida ? " asked the servitor in 
 a trembling voice. 
 
 The boy smiled, but there was no spark of intelli- 
 gence in the dull eyes. 
 
 Hida the Faithful muttered every curse he knew 
 on the head of the Count Kuroki Obuto, Baron 
 Matsuyama, and every member of the house of 
 the Mountain of Pines. 
 
 The sun had but crawled half-way toward its 
 zenith when Zuri stood in the archway. 
 
 "What now?" asked Hida. 
 
 "Visitors for the prince, captain," answered the 
 Samurai. 
 
 "Who may they be?" 
 
 "Madame Golden Glow and Her Highness the 
 Princess Misono San." 
 
 "The child may come, but let the woman remain 
 in her litter. Tell the Fifty to watch her carefully. 
 She is the charmer of the serpents." 
 
 There were shrill sounds of protest outside when 
 Zuri left. They soon died away and were followed 
 by the pattering of wooden-shod feet. 
 
 Through the archway came a girl of nine years, 
 bearing a basket of fruit. A dainty figure she was 
 in her kimono of scarlet satin and broad, pale-blue 
 sash. Open-eyed she looked about her; then,
 
 30 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 catching sight of the prince, her lithe little body 
 fell prostrate upon the matting, her face between 
 her palms. 
 
 " Rise, most glorious princess," said Hida. "What 
 do you deign to bring to his most royal majesty?" 
 
 "Plums, Hida," she answered, holding up the 
 basket. "See, they are fresh, with the dew of 
 morning on their silken skins even as I plucked 
 them. See, your supreme highness see what 
 your slave brings you." 
 
 She held the round red fruit up to the prince. 
 The boy laughed. 
 
 "Pretty pretty!" he whined, stretching his 
 arms to her. 
 
 Hida sprang up quickly. 
 
 "Do you know the Princess Misono San?" he 
 anxiously asked. "Do you know your betrothed, 
 O my prince?" 
 
 "Pretty pretty pretty!" again cried the 
 boy. He recognized nothing save the fruit. 
 
 Slowly the girl moved toward the prince, the 
 plums in her hand. The boy had touched it with 
 his finger-tips and then Hida snatched it away. 
 The lad set up a pitiful wail. 
 
 "See, old dog," cried the princess, with a stamp 
 of her tiny foot, "thou hast made him weep. They 
 say thou hast tortured him. Let him have the 
 fruit. Quickly I command thee ! "
 
 DENTED HELMET OF BRONZE 31 
 
 "So, little princess," answered the old man, with 
 a smile, "if Zuri's Aregatho will eat, the prince may. 
 Zuri hither a moment." 
 
 The soldier entered. 
 
 "Is your Aregatho in the service of the prince, 
 Zuri?" 
 
 "Aye," answered the knight. "If the little 
 fellow can be of use to his supreme majesty." 
 
 "Fetch him, Zuri." 
 
 The old soldier sat stolidly while Zuri was gone. 
 The princess, a cataract of words pouring from her 
 puckered lips, threatened to have Hida's "head 
 to kick" when his esteemed excellency, the Baron 
 Matsuyama, heard how she had been affronted. 
 The prince still cried softly. 
 
 Soon a shrill chattering came from outside. Zuri 
 entered the room, carrying on his shoulder a small 
 ape. The beast wore a yellow jacket and was held 
 by a chain fastened to a harness on its back. 
 
 "Chatter not so," commanded the knight, looking 
 down on the animal. "Thou art not to be made 
 soup of yet unless his supreme highness desires 
 thee." 
 
 "Nay," exclaimed Hida, "it is Aregatho who 
 must eat. See this ripe plum. The Princess of 
 the Seashore gathered it, chilled by the dew. Give 
 it to him, Zuri." 
 
 The animal quickly seized the fruit that Zuri
 
 32 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 held up and, biting a hole in it, squeezed it with his 
 thin paws, sucking out the pulp. Three it ate, the 
 fourth it refused, and, crawling down from its perch 
 on its master's shoulder, curled up under his feet, 
 the bright yellow jacket in harsh contrast against 
 the gray of the rock wall. 
 
 The prince, forgetting his sorrow, sat upright 
 on his couch, staring at the creature and chuckling 
 strangely. 
 
 The girl held herself erect, every instinct of high 
 breeding expressed in her flashing eyes to feed 
 her gifts to a monkey! 
 
 Zuri looked down on the heavily-breathing beast, 
 puzzled. Hida's wrinkled lids narrowed, he gnawed 
 his lip. 
 
 "Tell His High Excellency the Baron Matsu- 
 yama," said the old soldier, handing the girl the 
 basket, "to eat this fruit himself. 
 
 "They were gathered by his niece the dew 
 of morning has chilled them. Since his high ex- 
 cellency was so interested in seeing the fruit before 
 he gave the basket into your hands, O princess, 
 perhaps he would enjoy them. If he should so deign, 
 tell him he would confer a great boon upon his 
 humble servant, Hida the Tortoise, soldier of 
 Shikoku." 
 
 The old man, with a sweeping bow, touched the 
 matting on the floor with his forehead.
 
 DENTED HELMET OF BRONZE 33 
 
 "Old worm old snake!" shrieked the girl. 
 "The beast has but over-eaten. Thou liest he is 
 but sleepy." 
 
 "Does the ape often do this, Zuri?" queried 
 Hida. 
 
 "Nay," answered the knight. "He never acts 
 so. Rise, Aregatho I have nuts for thee." 
 
 Yet in spite of the violent tuggings at his chain, 
 the animal didn't awaken, only drew up its legs, 
 grasped them in its paws, and shivered. 
 
 "It is a trick a base, lying trick!" the princess 
 cried out. "My uncle loves the Prince Rennoske. 
 He would save him from thee, old swine old 
 fiend! Thou shalt pay for this. I'll see them crush 
 thy bones. I'll see thee boiled, thou old serpent!" 
 
 And with her tiny body shaking with rage and 
 temper, the Princess Misono San ran crying through 
 the archway. 
 
 Zuri gazed down at his sleeping monkey. Hida's 
 eyes were on the matting floor. 
 
 "See, Zuri," said he at length, "thus would have 
 the Daimyo whose spirit has but just joined his 
 blessed ancestors thus would he have joined the 
 house of the Mountain of Pines with the house of 
 the Red River, his own, with this, the betrothal of 
 His Majesty the Prince Rennoske and Her Highness 
 the Princess Misono San. You and I were at the 
 feast, Zuri.
 
 34 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "I remember my many cups of the hot sakkee 
 until I was drunken. I, who had fought with the 
 old prince against the Matsuyama, liked not this 
 union with them. Yon daughter of the Matsuyama 
 proves I did no wrong in striving to drown the 
 memory of it. Aye daughter of the house of 
 the seventh hell, who would have murdered her 
 betrothed!" 
 
 As if in answer to his words, the monkey screamed 
 a frightful scream that echoed through the cave, 
 and, stretching out its thin legs, drew them up 
 again. Its eyes opened and its jaw dropped in the 
 throes of death. 
 
 The prince stared wildly and began to whimper. 
 
 "Zuri," Hida said quietly, "tell the men we go 
 at dawn to the summer palace by the Inland Sea. 
 This place is dank and foul, the lad should have 
 air and sunshine. 
 
 "Let ten go in the darkness of midnight and make 
 it ready. The woods swarm with pheasants, the 
 water is full of goodly fish. Gods of my ancestors 
 the air here is filthy with poison of the Matsu- 
 yama!" 
 
 Zuri gathered up the body of his ape and went 
 out. 
 
 The prince still whimpered. 
 
 Hida, going to a heavy lacquered box, drew out 
 his samisen. Then tuning up the strings of the
 
 DENTED HELMET OF BRONZE 35 
 
 banjo-like instrument, he beat out a weird refrain 
 while his cracked voice rang out in a monotonous 
 song. 
 
 Slowly the prince's tears died away his eyes 
 brightened. Hida strummed and sang on. As the 
 tempo of the song grew faster the boy smiled. 
 Hida stopped. 
 
 "The song," he soothed him, "what is the song, 
 little warrior?" 
 
 The boy laughed and clapped his hands. 
 
 "I know!" he answered. "'They Cut Off the 
 Old Dragon's Head.'" 
 
 "Truly and who first sang it to you?" 
 
 "Thou thou!" the boy faltered. 
 
 "And I am" 
 
 The prince opened his mouth to answer, when 
 his hands came suddenly to his head. 
 
 "The pain the pain!" he murmured, and he 
 sank back on the soft coverings with staring 
 eyes. 
 
 In the morning there was no change. The 
 dawn had scarcely broken, a gray oval patch on 
 the floor, when the archway was darkened by 
 Zuri. 
 
 "All is in readiness, captain," he called. 
 
 Hida nodded. Going to the box he drew out a 
 heavy kimono. This he wrapped about the limp-
 
 36 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 lying boy. Then clothing himself, he stole cautiously 
 out into the chill air. 
 
 The Fifty were there, drawn up in lines of ten. 
 Making a square about the old man and his precious 
 burden, they started on the march without the crash 
 of cymbals or throbbing of drums on through 
 silent, dew-dripping woods, while the light changed 
 from gray, to rose-pink, to golden. 
 
 "Gods of my ancestors!" Hida suddenly cried 
 out, as they were approaching the edge of the forest. 
 "The man who brings down yon beast, him will 
 I pray for forever. Quick!" he shouted, handing 
 the prince to Zuri. " See the waving in yonder tree. 
 If you love your master, the prince shoot!" 
 
 Twenty of the knights who were archers brought 
 their longbows from their backs and, fitting their 
 arrows to the string, took aim by Hida's trembling 
 finger. With a whir, twenty arrows cut through 
 the air. 
 
 Something black fell from the tree, turning over 
 and over as it descended. 
 
 "Bring back the thing!" shouted Hida. "Bring 
 it back, lest it escape you." 
 
 "First tell us what we seek?" asked a knight. 
 "Man or beast?" 
 
 "A man, or a demon by his shape," answered 
 Hida. "Will you hurry!" 
 
 The twenty ran toward the tree where their
 
 DENTED HELMET OF BRONZE 37 
 
 arrows had struck. Hida saw them disappear amid 
 the green and brown. Then, after many minutes, 
 one by one they returned with blank faces. 
 
 "I found my shaft in the tree," said one. 
 
 "Mine was deep in the earth," said another. 
 
 "If I had but known at what I shot," said a 
 third, "my arrow would not have gone so wide of 
 the mark." 
 
 And so on, till every arrow had been accounted 
 for. 
 
 "And you missed all of you?" snapped the 
 old man. 
 
 "Nay," said one, "there was blood on the leaves 
 near the tree. I followed it, but found naught." 
 i "Then let us onward," cried Hida, taking back 
 his burden. 
 
 The road led downward. A cool sea breeze 
 blew in the men's faces. 
 
 "So," said Hida, turning to Zuri, "I have some- 
 times dreams and forebodings. It seemed sud- 
 denly to come to me, that if we killed the thing in 
 the tree, we would be ever free from danger. Since 
 we did not, it comes to me now that the thing will 
 kill me." 
 
 "What was the thing?" asked Zuri. 
 
 "So " answered the old man. "Who climbs 
 the tree like a hawk to watch us? Who crawls 
 into a hole like a rat to listen? Who but yon
 
 38 
 
 crooked shadow of his high excellency of serpents 
 the Ugly Dwarf!" 
 
 Zuri took a deep breath of the salt air and gazed 
 rapt at the length of sunlit sea that stretched out 
 before him. 
 
 "Who knows?" he answered.
 
 Chapter 
 
 The Mark of the Black Boar's 
 Sword 
 
 LOOKING down a long, sandy incline, dotted 
 here and there with dwarf firs, the curve 
 of a beach swung into view. There was 
 no surf, for this was the Inland Sea, sheltered from 
 the blasts and roar of the Pacific by the mainland 
 of Hondo, shrouded in the far-away purple mists 
 of the morning. 
 
 Not a sail showed on the water that shone a 
 dazzling golden, except where the shadows of the 
 high bluffs were reflected in the semicircle of a glassy 
 bay. 
 
 The tile roof of a large building and the thatch 
 of several smaller ones nestled under a great rocky 
 rise directly below them. 
 
 "The ten have prepared for our coming," said 
 Hida, his feet sinking deep in the sand from the 
 weight of his limp burden, and the sweat standing 
 out on his wrinkled forehead from the heat of the 
 sun. "See, the smoke rises straight."
 
 4 o THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "It is a good omen," answered Zuri. 
 
 "So," replied the old soldier, with a grin. "The 
 omen of food awaiting us. The gods could do no 
 better by thee than to give thee two stomachs and 
 two mouths." 
 
 " I would rather have four arms and four swords," 
 Zuri responded. "Then would the cleaving of 
 Matsuyama skulls be a merry business." 
 
 "Thou shalt have many to cleave with two, Zuri," 
 Hida rejoined. 
 
 "Aye," answered the knight, with a cheerful 
 smile. "My poor blade is dull. There is naught 
 to polish it like the brains of the Matsuyama. Hei! 
 Is there a joy like the joy of a good fight?" 
 
 "Thy bliss will soon be granted mark old Hida." 
 
 Zuri smiled and went on down the hill, humming 
 to himself an odd, weird melody, the battle song of 
 his clan. Hida chuckled this was the spirit of 
 spirits for such a day! Accompanying the strain, 
 the clanking of the knights made a warlike chorus. 
 A flock of gulls whirled skyward, shrieking shrilly. 
 The back of the larger building came into view, 
 or rather the yard, for it was surrounded by a heavy 
 stockade, each sharpened post composed of a tree- 
 trunk driven into the sand and lashed to its neighbor 
 by yards of copper wire. 
 
 A moat surrounded the stockade on three sides, 
 the water coming from the sea itself. On the sea
 
 THE BLACK BOAR'S SWORD 41 
 
 side, the logs were driven into the sand directly at 
 the water's edge. 
 
 The thatched houses formed a crescent about the 
 left-hand corner of the stockade. These were but 
 rude huts, partly of mud and only large enough for 
 two or three crowded inhabitants. 
 
 When at length the forty Samurai were within a 
 hundred feet of the moat, a massive drawbridge 
 creaked down on great chains. It touched the earth 
 just as the vanguard of soldiers separated, making a 
 lane of clanking iron and steel for Hida and his 
 burden to pass. 
 
 As he walked over the log bridge, two gates, spiked 
 and studded with iron, swung inward. The old man 
 entered. The gates were swung to after him. 
 
 " Hei!" he cried. "Food a place for his highness 
 to rest his royal head. Isoge, my soldiers quickly. 
 I am faint with hunger and weariness hei!" 
 
 Five soldiers in their leather jerkins were soon 
 bustling about, fetching rugs and furs. These they 
 piled in the shade of the tiled roof, and Hida set 
 down his burden with a sigh of relief, mopping his 
 wrinkled forehead with the sleeve of his kimono. 
 
 In the center of the stockade stood the house, a 
 primitive affair; the tiled roof was held up at each 
 corner by three tree trunks lashed together by 
 twisted banyan fibers. The wood was stripped of 
 bark, and carved and gilded fantastically.
 
 42 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 A heavy matting covered the floor, which was 
 bare of all furniture excepting a tripod of brass near 
 the pile of skins where the prince lay. 
 
 The smell of cooking wafted through the apart- 
 ment from a charcoal fire by the stockade. Soon 
 one of the knights brought tea in a pannikin, rice, 
 and a fish stew in an earthen bowl. Hida devoured 
 this greedily and sat down on the mats to silently 
 watch his charge. 
 
 It was late afternoon when the Prince Rennoske 
 stirred, breathed deeply, and opened his eyes. He 
 sprang up as the unaccustomed sunlight outside 
 reflected in his face; then, catching sight of Hida, he 
 smiled wanly. 
 
 "Would you eat, little warrior?" asked the old 
 man. 
 
 The boy seemed to understand, for he nodded his 
 head. Hida watched him partake of the soup and 
 rice. It pleased the old man greatly when the boy 
 held out the bowl for more. 
 
 Slowly the lad let his eyes wander about him in 
 the first red-golden tinge of the glorious sunset. 
 
 "Here sat your grandfather, little warrior, in his 
 old age. A tiny kingdom for one who loved to roam 
 free in his dominions, attended by his knights, wild 
 and liberty-loving as himself. 
 
 "A great huntsman was your grandfather, boy, 
 a chaser of the tiger, a wrestler with the brown bear,
 
 THE BLACK BOAR'S SWORD 43 
 
 a man whose straight, sure kick felled the onrushing 
 boar, whose hands crushed its hairy throat while he 
 scorned aid or the use of his sword. He was a man 
 of brass and steel! 
 
 "His blood flows in your veins Inari be praised 
 for that! But here he sat for seven years thinking 
 upon the folly of life and preparing himself for the 
 life to come. The Matsuyama waged war then 
 and kept him here a prisoner. He died here; but 
 not before he heard the joyful news that the house of 
 the Mountain of Pines was overthrown by your 
 seven-times-blessed father. And what will you do 
 to them, these carrion dogs eh ? " 
 
 The boy smiled he didn't understand. The 
 sickly smile set the ball of Hida's thought a-rolling 
 again. 
 
 "After all, it is not so bad. But a few days ago 
 and you lay as dead; now you sit up and look about 
 you, eat, drink, and smile. Hei! the blood of the 
 Ackagawa tells, little warrior! Did not your uncle 
 thrust his thigh into a pail of boiling pitch to stop 
 the flow of blood when the limb had been hewn from 
 him with an ax? 
 
 "And what did he do, little warrior? He smiled 
 smiled as the black mixed bubbling with the red. 
 Such are the Ackagawa. What is a blow on the 
 head? Soon you will be well enough to drive the 
 dogs of the Matsuyama from our fair land."
 
 44 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Hida mused on as darkness gathered. Then five 
 leather-clad soldiers came, dragging with them a 
 lacquered box. From this they brought forth the 
 walls of the house, oblong pine frames covered 
 with teak. These they slid into grooves that fitted 
 snugly. Facing the garden, they left one space 
 open like a door. The oil in the tripod was lighted; 
 all was snug and cozy. 
 
 Long sat Hida by the opening. 
 
 The moon, a pale crescent, rose above the stock- 
 ade. The faint strumming of the samisen floated on 
 the air, accompanied by the rhythmic clapping of 
 hands, with now and then a shrill shout. Hida 
 knew the sounds, the men were dancing. 
 
 "So," he murmured to himself, "dance while ye 
 may. And if ye play as lively a tune for the wearers 
 of the black when they come, my little warrior here 
 shall yet sit upon the throne of his fathers. 
 
 " Hei! Baron Matsuyama, the Ackagawa are 
 not all dead nor those that serve them. Mine 
 will be the more restful sleep this night, crawling 
 serpent of the seventh hell!" 
 
 And Hida the Faithful glowered at the unoffending 
 moon. 
 
 The crescent moon grew full and became again a 
 crescent. The sun cast the shadow of the stockade 
 on the east, and then on the west side of the garden
 
 THE BLACK BOAR'S SWORD 45 
 
 where the stunted firs waved over the pebble-strewn 
 shore of the tiny lake. 
 
 A month had passed in the palace by the Inland 
 Sea where the grandfather of Rennoske had spent the 
 declining years of his abdication. 
 
 The prince himself had gradually become stronger. 
 Each day he walked in the garden a while longer, 
 until he spent most of the day wandering about 
 in aimless, open-eyed wonder. He had flashes of 
 intelligence when he would order Hida about as 
 of old; but usually, though apparently happy and 
 contented, he did not even know the old man's 
 name. 
 
 But it was not for Hida to despair. His firm 
 faith in the all-conquering blood of the Ackagawa 
 made him believe that the boy would soon assert 
 himself. Then wo to the house of the Mountain of 
 Pines! 
 
 The first sign of trouble came when two of the 
 archers had ventured back into the woods for 
 pheasants. They returned with knitted brows and 
 sour mouths. 
 
 "What may be in the wind?" questioned Hida, 
 calling them aside. 
 
 "Not so much nor so little, captain," answered a 
 knight. "We skirted the woods above us, and were 
 returning with a score of birds along the way we came 
 from the cave. 'Look yonder, Hagachi,' called
 
 46 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Kana here. I looked and observed some thirty 
 bare-legged swine of peasants busily engaged in 
 clearing a space before a towering elm. 
 
 "'Let us see what they do/ I said, making for the 
 copse, while Kana followed. I bade them cease 
 defaming the sacred lands of the prince; whereupon 
 they scoffed at me, nor did they bow to earth as dogs 
 of peasants should. Gods of my ancestors, and we 
 sacred two-sword men!" 
 
 "What happened then?" queried Hida, stoically 
 hiding his alarm. 
 
 "Naught," went on Hagachi. "But I struck one 
 fellow with the flat of my sword to teach him 
 manners, whereupon they all set upon us like a pack 
 of wolves. We slew some eight or ten before they 
 took themselves off." 
 
 "And is it for this that ye come here with faces 
 like a sky before a storm?" snorted Hida. "I 
 thought me there were signs of the black. Hei, 
 what are ten peasants!" 
 
 "Nay, captain," Kana spoke up. "It was not 
 that. It was what these swine were about." 
 
 "And that?" 
 
 "It seemed as if they cleared a space for huts to 
 be built and dug holes for fires aye, as if an army 
 of men were coming, captain." 
 
 If the statement of these two worried Hida he 
 did not show it; but there followed more news
 
 THE BLACK BOAR'S SWORD 47 
 
 to verify the talk of a coming army a few days 
 later. 
 
 Three of the knights had taken a boat and poled 
 themselves up the beach for carp. They returned 
 with plenty of the fish, and also the information 
 that they had come upon a number of men build- 
 ing several large rafts. They had called to know 
 why any one should so dare on the property of his 
 supreme highness, whereupon the men answered with 
 shouts of derision, and again bent to their tasks, 
 ignoring, for the time, all questions, as though 
 beneath their notice. 
 
 Now, shouts of derision were no more to be toler- 
 ated by the Samurai than refusals to give them obei- 
 sance, so the three shot arrows into the men on the 
 beach and sent them scurrying. 
 
 This was no bad news to Hida a few peasants 
 less what did that matter? It was the statement 
 of one of the soldiers that rankled: "They were 
 large rafts, captain, seemingly for many men." 
 
 Hida glanced up to where the prince was walking 
 and smiled. The boy wandered on there was no 
 trace of fear in his pale face. That was good so 
 Hida crossed to where Zuri stood, leaning against 
 the gate, the twilight gleaming on his breastplate. 
 
 "I think thou shalt have that sword-polishing 
 soon," said the old man with a sly wink. 
 
 "I am happy, captain," Zuri rejoined, with his
 
 4 8 
 
 usual grin. " For my blade is cloudy. It shall take 
 many brains to brighten it again." 
 
 Hida grinned back at him. The prince looked 
 over and smiled too, but with no sign of compre- 
 hension of their talk. 
 
 That night great fires blazed on the hills above 
 them. Dots of black moved before them. Hida 
 knew them to be men. During the next day there 
 was ever and anon a spash of white, gray, or yel- 
 low against the green. They were still coming, 
 then. At dark the fires blazed once more and a 
 vagrant wind brought shouts of drunken song to 
 the waiting Samurai, now all gathered within the 
 stockade. 
 
 The prince was asleep within the house and Hida 
 had come out to listen to the crazy sounds. 
 
 "Gods of my ancestors!" cried Zuri at sight of 
 him, "why do we wait for them? Let us out and 
 steal upon them in the dark." 
 
 There was a growl of agreement from a knot of 
 knights whose fingers itched till only rubbing upon 
 their sword-hilts would ease them. 
 
 " Hei," shouted Hida. "How many are they, 
 think you? How are they armed? Nay, let us 
 wait till they seek us. Do ye forget for whom ye 
 fight that blood lust makes ye reckless? Nay, let 
 us wait and make ready." 
 
 The knights sullenly assented, and the making
 
 THE BLACK BOAR'S SWORD 49 
 
 ready was soon under way. By propping logs 
 against the stockade that faced the hill a foothold 
 was made. Here the archers stood ready with drawn 
 bows. 
 
 All through the night came the shouting and 
 singing. The fires alternately blazed and died. 
 Within the stockade was unrest and tense, nerve- 
 tingling expectancy. Up and down marched Hida 
 and Zuri the long night through. Dawn had just 
 broken gray behind the trees when a louder shout 
 went up. 
 
 "They come!" cried Hagachi, from the shelf 
 where the archers stood. 
 
 "Wait until they get within five yards of the 
 moat," called Hida. "Then let them have it!" 
 
 Like a wave of the sea came the peasants. With- 
 out order or formation, they plunged on down the 
 hill, gray in the morning light, kicking up the sand 
 as they ran three hundred of them, howling and 
 screeching! 
 
 "Within five yards of the moat," cried Hida above 
 the din. "Then shoot, Samurai!" 
 
 He watched the archers shoot there was a 
 groaning and a splashing. They fitted their arrows 
 and shot again more screaming and more 
 splashing. 
 
 Zuri stood the sounds of the fray for half an hour, 
 scraping his foot on the damp logs. At length,
 
 So THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 unable to bear it longer, he came to where Hida 
 stood, and asked petulantly: 
 
 "Why stand we here dawdling, we thirty swords- 
 men, when our blades thirst? What are they but a 
 handful of drunken riffraff that the old fox hath 
 gathered from the tea-houses? Let us up and at 
 them. Let us hew them to bits, captain." 
 
 A jumble of growls and cries of hate came from 
 the knot of shining warriors there in the half-light. 
 Outside the stockade rose a howl, followed by a 
 shower of stones that glanced off the armor of the 
 soldiers and made a rapid rataplan on the tiled roof. 
 
 "See," roared Zuri. "Am I to stand here and be 
 pelted like a crow? Out upon them!" 
 
 "Hold, Zuri!" Hida cried out as a fresh yell, this 
 time of pain, re-echoed outside. "Our duty is by 
 our prince!" 
 
 "Forward, sons of the Samurai!" cried a high 
 voice. 
 
 It was Kana, the youngest and most hot-headed 
 of the knights. Hida rushed madly across the court- 
 yard, but the gates were already open, the draw- 
 bridge down. With a clatter of iron and steel, 
 fifteen of the knights stamped over the bridge to 
 meet the shrieking mob that surged about the edge 
 of the moat. 
 
 Zuri had said their blades thirsted then and 
 there they drank their full of peasant blood !
 
 THE BLACK BOAR'S SWORD 51 
 
 The long sword flashed red, the short stabbed 
 crimson, while the howling was turned to a gurgling 
 as the dead and dying were plunged headlong into 
 the waters of the moat. 
 
 Backward, ever backward the peasants were 
 driven. Five more of the knights, intoxicated by 
 the slaughter, burst away from Hida's restraining 
 voice. The old man stood watching the fight, uncer- 
 tain as to whether to let the men work out their 
 blood lust or to call them off in the sacred name of 
 the prince. 
 
 Suddenly a sound to right of him made him turn 
 quickly. 
 
 Silhouetted against the sky, he saw heads and 
 shoulders bob up over the tops of the stockade 
 on the side facing the sea. With a wild yell, he 
 gave the alarm to the. five knights that remained 
 within the enclosure. They bounded across the 
 stockade and fell upon the seven marauders who 
 had tumbled inside. 
 
 Even in the fraction of a second that it took 
 him to turn his head he saw that the peasants 
 were still dropping over until the odds were three 
 to one. 
 
 "0-a-o-o-ong!" 
 
 From the old man's throat rose the bell-like cry 
 a signal of danger: 
 
 "Come back, Samurai!" he screamed. "They
 
 52 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 are within the walls! The dogs are within. Come 
 back!" 
 
 The Samurai on the hillside turned and rushed 
 back over the drawbridge. 
 
 There was more than the snapping and yelping 
 of the mob as they made the retreat. There were 
 heavy splashes in the moat. Armor sank easily 
 among the struggling and dying peasants who helped 
 to pull it down. 
 
 The gates were closed, the drawbridge raised 
 again. Crash and howl, yell and clatter, rending 
 and screaming! All was havoc within the stockade! 
 As the peasants vaulted to the ground over the 
 side facing the sea, they were -met by the dripping 
 points of the short swords and the keen edges of 
 the long. 
 
 Hemmed in and unable to return, the peasants 
 fought like demons, battering helmets of bronze, 
 hacking through breastplates and shirts of mail, 
 with knife, with short ax, and with club; but the 
 blades still circled and swung, dripping crimson. On 
 the other side, the archers still poured death into 
 the mob below, hurling them back in a panic 
 dying in droves without a chance to fight back. 
 
 Inside, it was but a matter of moments before the 
 last squirming peasant lay still. The heap of the 
 dead lay piled against the log wall. 
 
 Zuri wiped his sword.
 
 THE BLACK BOAR'S SWORD 53 
 
 "The swine are all slain, captain," he said, enter- 
 ing the house to find Hida crouching by the heap of 
 furs on which lay the prince. "The others have 
 fled. His supreme highness is safe." 
 
 "Safe enough for the present, Zuri," answered 
 the old man, "but not safe yet from blows of the 
 past. See!" 
 
 And he took off the covering that had partly con- 
 cealed the face of the boy. Prince Rennoske lay as 
 if in a coma; his eyes stared glassily; his jaw hung. 
 
 Zuri started. 
 
 "Nay, he is not dead," went on the old man. "It 
 is but the curse of the Matsuyama that is still upon 
 him the mark of the Black Boar's sword." 
 
 As he spoke Hida wondered how long his prince 
 would bear the mark. Aloud he said to Zuri: 
 
 "How many of you are slain?" 
 
 "Eleven, captain six here in the courtyard and 
 five were thrown into the moat as we turned. Hei! 
 It is naught to the other dead we have turned hell- 
 ward. They lie outside in heaps." 
 
 "Aye," answered Hida slowly, "eleven from fifty 
 leaves thirty-nine. We have no more to draw from, 
 while they So, Zuri, look at thy blade and smile. 
 Methinks it may gleam still brighter ere long."
 
 Chapter 
 
 A Brazen Ring under the 
 Matting 
 
 THE tiny lake, the stunted trees, the tiled 
 roof on its pillars of carved and gilded 
 tree trunks, they were all within the shelter 
 of the wooden stockade. 
 
 Hida was there, his eyes upon the sleeping boy, 
 who lay upon a bearskin in the shadow of the jointed 
 eaves. Zuri was there, too, mending a jagged rent 
 in his leather jerkin with a bone needle and copper 
 wire. The Samurai were there; they sat about a 
 wood fire on which stood a kettle. One of them 
 rolled over a round tub, the kettle was taken off, 
 and the hot water it had contained poured in the 
 tub. Slowly they stripped one by one in prepa- 
 ration for their bath. 
 
 Count these knotty-muscled men that stolidly go 
 about the evening ablution. There are but twelve 
 of them. Look at Zuri. A jagged, livid cut extends 
 from cheek to chin, the armor piled beside him is 
 battered and dented.
 
 ABRAZENRING 55 
 
 There are other changes. The great gate, studded 
 and spiked, is now half broken, the hinges bulge 
 inward, with here and there a log sloping useless 
 against the other. 
 
 Outside there is a change, a great and terrible 
 change. Leading from the sand across the moat, 
 round stones poke their backs above the water. 
 The points of helmets, breastplates, and swords 
 stick ominously up out of the water, telling the 
 tale of those that lie forever silent below. 
 
 Like an old man who was once young and hand- 
 some, the fortress is but the shadow of a stronghold. 
 One more assault and it must fall. 
 
 Within again, only two things are the same, the 
 placid face of wrinkled old Hida, the blank, coma-like 
 sleep of the boy. 
 
 An hour passed, the shadows deepened. Once 
 again the twelve soldiers donned their armor of steel 
 and bronze, looking to every strap, tightening every 
 buckle, carefully and calmly, not a hand trembling. 
 
 Hagachi turned to Kana with a jest. Kana 
 laughed, and pulled the strap of Hagachi's jointed 
 apron tighter, ran his finger down the edge of his 
 sword, and smiled again. They stood in odd knots 
 until Zuri had arrayed himself in his mail. 
 
 The leader walked a few paces, then squatted 
 down upon the earth and sat there, serene and silent. 
 One by one the twelve followed his example in posture
 
 56 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 and demeanor, until they were all in a semicircle 
 about Hida and the sleeping prince. 
 
 Hida waited a moment, then rose majestically, 
 put one arm behind him, and let the other hand 
 hang limply at his side. Then his voice came, soft 
 yet steel-cold, without a tremor. He might have 
 been giving a toast at a feast. 
 
 "Children of the Land of the Rising Sun, sons of 
 the Samurai. We are gathered here for the cere- 
 mony of farewell. I had thought that his supreme 
 highness would deign to give us all his blessing; but 
 it is written by the spirits of the dead that he be 
 still marked by his sickness for a little while. We 
 shall all be soon in the blessed spirit land where 
 the Matsuyama follow us not. 
 
 "It comes to me that our blessed ruler goes not 
 with us. That, brothers, is no concern of ours. We 
 have sworn to die fighting for him. It is not in me 
 to ask ye to remember your oath. The Samurai 
 live and die by the sword. Honorable and glorious 
 death awaits us, for we have died for our prince. 
 Zuri, I charge thee, when all hope is lost, give the 
 signal of danger. I bend my knees and bow my 
 head to the earth." 
 
 Hida suited the action to the word. 
 
 " In the name of the Prince Rennoske, Daimyo of 
 the Ackagawa." He rose to his feet again. "Sons 
 of the Samurai, saianara, I salute ye!"
 
 ABRAZENRING 57 
 
 Zuri rose, laid his sword before the feet of the 
 prince, bowed his head to the ground, rose again, 
 and took up the sword. 
 
 "In the name of the sword that is my soul," he 
 said in an even voice, "my prince, my ruler, and my 
 god of battle, saianara, I salute you." 
 
 One by one each of the knights did as Zuri had 
 done, till the last firm " saianara" had died away 
 into the stillness. Hida went to where the boy 
 lay, took him up in his arms, and, walking like a 
 priest to the altar, entered between the carved and 
 gilded pillars of the house. The door slid to after 
 him. 
 
 He was seen no more by the last of the Fifty. 
 
 The sun went down, and with its descent, red 
 and hazy, into the smooth sea, a wind sprang up, 
 driving swift clouds across the sky. As the night 
 wore on the blackness deepened until it enveloped 
 all. 
 
 Within the stockade the thirteen waited. The 
 wind sent a spray and the scent of the sea into their 
 nostrils, blew down in their faces the plumes of their 
 helmets. The Samurai watched in silence. 
 
 Suddenly the sky was rent by a scarlet rocket. 
 There was an answering yell from without a 
 terrific crash! The attack was on! 
 
 To the thirteen this was nothing. Every night 
 for eighteen days had they heard it the clatter of
 
 58 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 the flying rocks, the heavy splashes in the moat as 
 great stones were flung into it to fill it up, the 
 whistling of the arrows through the air, for the at- 
 tacking host had been increased by regular archers 
 wheedled with the baron's gold from the service of 
 the dead Daimyo. 
 
 What were these but buzzing gnats about the 
 horns of a bull! The Samurai s armor protected 
 them from arrows and stones. They were waiting 
 for that ominous crash again. Then the bloodshed 
 would begin. 
 
 It came, dull, sickly, rending. It was the shiver- 
 ing of the logs of the gate as the peasants flung the 
 battering-ram against it. A buzzing of voices and 
 the shouting of orders followed the crash, then it 
 came again. This time the great trees of the gate 
 fell tumbling inward. 
 
 In the light of another rocket, Zuri and the twelve 
 saw a huge tree, torn up by the roots, its branches 
 held by a hundred half-naked men, being drawn 
 back over the spanned moat. This, then, was what 
 had battered down the gate. 
 
 Behind it they could see a hundred more men, 
 shaking clubs, knives, and spears, howling in horrid 
 triumph. 
 
 The light from the rocket faded blackness 
 again. 
 
 And now a single voice boomed out of the dark:
 
 ABRAZENRING 59 
 
 "Give up the prince, men of the Samurai! Your 
 gate is down, your moat spanned. Three hundred 
 here thirst for your blood. I have but to say the 
 word and they are upon you. Yet give up the prince 
 and I grant you your lives, peace, and a place in 
 the kingdom. By Inari, I swear it. Give up the 
 prince!" 
 
 Zuri's voice came back: 
 
 "We yield nothing, dog of the Matsuyama! 
 We yield nothing to thee, baron of the under- 
 world!" 
 
 "Then die like rats!" snarled the voice. "For- 
 ward for your baron! Forward for your rightful 
 prince, the Black Boar! Two thousand yen for the 
 imbecile Rennoske! A thousand yen for the dog 
 Hida forward to the death ! " 
 
 With a howl the vanguard flung themselves upon 
 the swords of the thirteen, faces horribly leering in 
 the red glow of a rocket. It was a quick, sweeping 
 rush of arms, legs, and rude weapons. But alas for 
 j<2&^-maddened peasants spurred on by hollow 
 promises of gold! 
 
 For a hundred of their blows that went wild, a 
 hundred cuts of sharp steel blades, blades wielded 
 by swordsmen, the sons of swordsmen, laid them 
 low in bloody heaps. Still the voice spurred them 
 on while the rockets whizzed and spat; still the 
 experienced men behind pushed them forward, their
 
 60 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 object to tire the Samurai. They gained a little; 
 the thirteen became eleven. 
 
 The Samurai, heads thrown back, one foot for- 
 ward, a dripping weapon in each hand, stood for a 
 moment unmolested. They saw a green rocket 
 cleave the air. To them it meant nothing; yet the 
 men on the rafts, out there on the choppy sea, knew 
 it was the signal for them to pole their craft against 
 the sea side of the stockade. 
 
 In the darkness they climbed over the slippery 
 posts and dropped, one by one, within the enclosure. 
 The next rocket revealed them lined up like grey- 
 hounds in the leash, awaiting the word of their 
 leader. 
 
 The Samurai had expected this; so, at the signal 
 from Zuri, they backed quietly against the walls of 
 the house, their blades swinging, cutting a red path 
 through the rabble. 
 
 There was a howl of disappointment from the 
 men within the stockade, for they had expected to 
 fall upon the backs of the Samurai and bear them 
 down. 
 
 But the evil wits of the baron were equal to the 
 counter movement. He ordered a halt in the attack, 
 and bade his own archers steal through the gate 
 under cover of the darkness and shoot when the 
 next rocket rose up. They shot in the glare, over 
 the heads of the peasants and the Samurai, so as to
 
 ABRAZENRING 61 
 
 hit the walls of teak and pine. The arrows stuck 
 deep in the wood and quivered there. 
 
 The ten knights never turned to look upon the 
 arrows over their heads. Had they done so, they 
 would have seen that these were no ordinary arrows, 
 but covered from end to point with oil-soaked cloth 
 and paper. Then, with a weird coughing and sput- 
 tering, fifty rockets were shot directly at the walls 
 of the house, filling the blackness with myriad scarlet 
 sparks. 
 
 All was enveloped in a lurid, suffocating smoke. 
 The wind quickly carried it away to reveal that which 
 was a thousand times more terrible. Many of the 
 arrows caught fire, and the flames crept quickly 
 along the dry wood. 
 
 The baron gave the signal, and before the hem- 
 med-in defenders had a chance to tear down the 
 blazing points the attack was on again from all 
 sides. 
 
 With a blazing house behind them, a howling mob 
 before them, the sons of the Samurai fought a vain 
 fight; but fight on they did, for that was their life, 
 heads still thrown back, foot forward to meet the foe 
 and to allow a full swing to their arms. 
 
 Still upon them came the peasants. Armor gave 
 way to blows of heavy clubs, spears thrust through 
 coats of chain mail. 
 
 Hagachi whirled and fell, a dagger in the armpit,
 
 62 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 a spear-thrust in his throat. He caught a peasant 
 by the ankles, dragged him down, and strangled him 
 with his death-grip. 
 
 Kana fell crashing upon him, his helmet bat- 
 tered in, his jugular vein severed, yet he thrust his 
 short sword into the stomach of one of the baron's 
 archers as he fell. Now only Zuri remained by the 
 door. 
 
 "Come, dogs of the Matsuyama ! " he shouted. 
 "Come and take me! I spit on you and all your 
 spawn!" 
 
 And cleaving the skull of a renegade soldier with 
 his long sword, thrusting the short one into the back 
 of another who made to flee, he gave forth the curi- 
 ous, bell-like cry. Hida the Faithful heard and was 
 ready. 
 
 In the center of the floor the matting had been torn 
 up, disclosing a square of wood with a brass ring in 
 its center. 
 
 The prince opened his eyes, looked about him, 
 and then closed them again as he shivered in 
 terror. Though cowering with fear, shrieking 
 in fright, whining like a girl, the boy was still 
 the Daimyo to Hida. The Daimyo gods and 
 even now the baron and his host of hired, 
 drunken cutthroats were howling outside, thirst- 
 ing for his blood, risking their lives for a handful 
 of gold.
 
 ABRAZENRING 63 
 
 Hida sped to the ring in the floor and pulled. It 
 scarcely budged. He tugged with all his strength. 
 Slowly rose a heavy trap-door, about a foot in thick- 
 ness, covered over at the sides and bottom by mas- 
 sive plates of beaten copper. A black square yawned 
 below. 
 
 Sparks were falling from the roof inside the room. 
 Outside, Zuri's voice was ringing clarion above the 
 din of howls and clashing steel. 
 
 In one arm Hida took the limp body of the 
 boy, and with the other hand seized a square of 
 matting. Gingerly he thrust his legs down through 
 the opening, and with one unencumbered hand on 
 a ring inside the trap-door, prepared to descend, 
 just as the flames, with a devouring roar, burst 
 through a corner of the roof. 
 
 " Saianara, my prince ! " Zuri's voice called weakly 
 outside. 
 
 With a rending crash, a portion of the teak wall 
 caved inward. In the opening Hida saw the hideous, 
 firelit face of the Ugly Dwarf! 
 
 Swiftly the old man swung into the trap, 
 bearing his whole weight on the ring. Swifter 
 still the dwarf sprang into the room, and with 
 a lightning-like movement of his apelike arm, 
 he flung a heavy knife at the old soldier. It 
 struck! 
 
 The dwarf dived for the old man. But the trap
 
 64 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 closed with a crash on his fingers, leaving him howling 
 and kicking in pain. 
 
 Awkwardly Hida unscrewed the ring from the 
 inside of the trap, and, bearing the prince, crawled 
 on hands and knees through the inky blackness of 
 the tunnel.
 
 Chapter 
 A Zigzag Path up the 
 Mountainside 
 
 NOW I am indeed Hida the Tortoise," 
 thought the old man as he crawled along 
 the dark passage. "Even have I my 
 shell upon my back. But that, old mole, is more 
 precious than my body." 
 
 Hida stopped and wrapped the prince in the 
 matting. Something warm and wet dropped on 
 his hand. It was his own blood from the wound in 
 his neck. 
 
 "Come, old weasel," he panted. "They may raise 
 the trap and the rat of a dwarf can catch you. 
 Onward onward ! " 
 
 Crawling, faltering, stumbling, old Hida crept 
 forward. The way was hard now, for the tunnel 
 inclined upward and he was now and then obliged 
 to drag the boy after him as he crawled, for it 
 was impossible to stand upright in the winding 
 way. 
 
 The irony of the situation suddenly struck him.
 
 66 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 The prince's grandfather was, in his day, a mighty 
 huntsman. Often, the weeks of his lonely medita- 
 tion in the home of his forced abdication galled on 
 him. With his own hand he had dug this tunnel, so 
 that unseen by the hated Matsuyama guards he 
 might steal out at night and hunt the tiger with his 
 old cronies. From their descendants, Hida learned 
 of the existence of it. None of the Matsuyama had 
 ever heard of it. 
 
 "Little did he think," Hida pondered, "that it 
 would save his grandson's life. Curses on the arm 
 that threw that knife. Gods of my ancestors, how 
 it pains!" 
 
 The warm drops fell fast. 
 
 A pale shimmering far ahead warned the old man 
 that part of his flight was nearly over. Farther on 
 he found that it filtered through the leaves of a tree 
 that spread its overhanging branches close to the 
 ground above the round end of the tunnel. 
 
 For a moment the glow dazzled him, so complete 
 had been the darkness through which he had toiled. 
 He knew, too, there had been no moon; the color of 
 the light, a faint pink, made him pause. Perhaps 
 the tunnel ended at the very camp-fires of the Matsu- 
 yama host. This he had feared, and so had delayed 
 his flight until he felt sure his enemies would all be 
 at the storming of the fortress. 
 
 Cautiously he parted the leaves and peered out.
 
 A ZIGZAG PATH 67 
 
 A bonfire blazed within a hundred paces; figures 
 moved to and fro before it. 
 
 To remain where he was until morning would mean 
 the impossibility of flight; to hide there, starva- 
 tion. Then, too, the tunnel behind him was prob- 
 ably even now filled with cautiously crawling men, 
 the sound of the baron's gold jingling in their ears. 
 There was a price on his old head, he knew, and the 
 prince's too. 
 
 That thought made him creep out into the night, 
 dragging the boy after him. Below, down the sandy 
 incline, the summer-house was a roaring mass of 
 flames. He had forgotten that the mouth of the 
 tunnel would he hard to find now until the ruins 
 were cleared away. 
 
 He stumbled about, unaccustomed to both stand- 
 ing on his feet and to the light. The burden, too, 
 was heavy, his wound throbbed painfully. 
 
 A moving pinkness made him pause irresolute. 
 He knew it to be a torch. In\ a sudden panic, he 
 looked about for a place of concealment. It was 
 too late. Three armed peasants came from behind 
 a knotty pine. 
 
 "Who goes there?" one shouted. 
 
 Choking down the pain, Hida's voice squeaked 
 out: 
 
 "I have lost my way, good sirs. Where is the 
 road to Nagashi?"
 
 68 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Boldly he walked toward them. He knew not 
 the speaker's voice. 
 
 "Who and what may you be?" growled the torch- 
 bearer, coming close to him. 
 
 "A pedler of matting, good sirs," squeaked Hida. 
 "I have a six-mat room to lay for one Sadakichi, the 
 armorer. Can you direct me the way?" 
 
 The three peasants looked from one to the other. 
 
 "Knowest thou the Baron Matsuyama ? " queried 
 the torch-bearer. 
 
 "So," answered Hida, "I have heard of his high 
 excellency. But I am from Loochoo. I have not 
 been long in these parts. Does Nagashi lie to the 
 east, good sirs? I must be there ere dawn." 
 
 "What hast thou in the bundle?" snapped the first 
 speaker. "Open and let us see." 
 
 "Fool!" roared the torch-bearer. "Seest thou 
 not that it is matting, as he said. Let us not waste 
 time. To the east Nagashi lies, pedler," he con- 
 tinued, addressing Hida. "See that thou sayest 
 naught of this." He jerked his head in the direction 
 of the blazing summer-house. 
 
 "Matters politic and feudal concern me not, so 
 long as I am free to ply my trade," answered Hida, 
 turning away. "I give you a thousand thanks." 
 
 Hida stole not a single glance at the scene below 
 him. He heard the hum of angry voices with now 
 and then a shout. He had escaped thus far.
 
 AZIGZAGPATH 69 
 
 He staggered on, the voices behind him growing 
 fainter with every step. He dared not think of the 
 narrowness of his escape, dared not even think of 
 the frightful pain that racked his brain and throbbed 
 in his throat. He stumbled on and on. 
 
 Was not the life of his sublime majesty the prince 
 in his hands? Who was he to stop and think of 
 himself? He was the prince's servant, teacher, 
 guardian, higher even by law than his mother. The 
 thought spurred him on. The babble of voices was 
 behind him again. 
 
 Through the night went Hida the Faithful, through 
 mire, through brambles, and over stones. Now the 
 pine boughs met across his path, bruising his fore- 
 head in the darkness. Again his feet slipped and 
 paddled uncertainly through rice fields. 
 
 With courage that was indomitable, with deter- 
 mination that was terrible, he forded rushing streams 
 that almost swept him away, while sharp stones cut 
 his feet. 
 
 He still hugged his precious burden to his breast 
 tightly, when a wind brought the sound of voices to 
 his ears again gently, when nothing but the 
 crickets' chirping and the soft ripple of water was 
 borne to his drumming ears. 
 
 In one fit of weakness he stumbled into a stone 
 torii outside a temple. Striking a mound of hard 
 earth he fell, the force of the blow causing the
 
 70 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 blood to rush from his mouth and throb in his 
 temples until a swoon came gratefully to relieve the 
 pain. 
 
 When the throbbing again awoke him it was 
 nearly dawn. He heard the cocks crow upon the 
 perch above him and saw their long tails wave in 
 the morning wind. 
 
 Faintly outlined against the sky, the upward 
 curve of the temple roof was a vague silhouette. A 
 gong inside told him the priests were about. 
 
 He crawled to the matting roll and looked for the 
 boy. The prince still lay in his coma. Priests, too, 
 were to be shunned in times like these, for priests 
 were to be bought, the same as other men, with 
 jingling gold. There was no rest here. 
 
 He gathered up his burden and stumbled through 
 a cedar grove, thence to a deeper forest of pine, ever 
 onward, ever upward. 
 
 "The mountains are near now," he whispered. 
 "If I can but cross to the other side, I shall find the 
 palace of Kogito, a Daimyo friendly to us always. 
 He shall put soldiers at my prince's back and drive 
 the hated Matsuyama from our kingdom. 
 
 "Then shall you reign glorious with your mind 
 cleared, little warrior with mind cleared. Gods of 
 my ancestors how my throat pains ! How my 
 head swims!" 
 
 Woodcutters on their way to work gazed pity-
 
 A ZIGZAG PATH 71 
 
 ingly at an aged man who stumbled through the 
 carpet of sharp brown pine-needles with a bundle of 
 matting on his back. A farmer, leading his ox-team 
 down a long, hilly road with a cheerful " hei! hei!" 
 turned a sad gaze upon Hida, stopped his lumber- 
 ing beasts, and offered to help him. To pitying 
 looks and offers of help the old man answered 
 strangely : 
 
 "A pedler of matting a six-mat room to lay for 
 one Sadakichi, the armorer. Onward to Nagashi, 
 old tortoise onward to Nagashi ! " 
 
 They wondered at the speech. Wondered, too, 
 at the stain on the worn kimono and the red drops 
 that fell into the dust. 
 
 At length Hida the Faithful reached the spur of 
 the mountain. The green and gray of it towered 
 above him in the half light. He saw the sun shine 
 on the rice fields, saw the green stalks wave in the 
 morning breeze. 
 
 Up the steep and stony brown path he toiled, his 
 suffering becoming greater at every step. Then, 
 about two hundred feet up the zigzag way, he swayed 
 and fell, sending a shower of tiny stones clattering 
 into the valley below. The prophetic heart of 
 valiant old Hida was finishing its last tale. 
 
 He had felt something snap in his head. He knew 
 his end was near. With superhuman strength he 
 rose again. It was not for him to leave his prince
 
 72 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 in the middle of a mountain path. Something must 
 be done for him then it would be time enough for 
 Hida the Tortoise to die! 
 
 He looked about him. 
 
 On the left the mountainside dropped sheer into 
 a tumbling torrent, rushing into the forest he had 
 left. Behind was the stony path, ahead it dwindled 
 to a brown ribbon between great boulders of granite. 
 There was no comfort or shelter. 
 
 Hida looked to right of him. 
 
 On a small plateau stood a thatched shoji. The 
 last of the outside wooden walls was just being taken 
 down by a bare-legged figure. Hida stumbled up 
 the path toward the house. 
 
 He found the bare-legged man squatted on the 
 floor, a steaming bowl before him. A woman sat 
 opposite him, and between them a little shaven- 
 headed girl. 
 
 "Welcome, stranger," cried the man at sight of 
 Hida. "A thousand welcomes to my house. 
 Woman, fetch porridge for our guest, who seems 
 tired and worn with much traveling. Sit thou in 
 my place." 
 
 Hida reverently laid down his bundle on the grass- 
 woven matting, and gazed weakly about the room. 
 The blood dripping from his wound stained the floor 
 of the hut. 
 
 "Thou art hurt, stranger," cried the man, catch-
 
 A ZIGZAG PATH 73 
 
 ing sight of the telltale stain. "Thy kimono is 
 bloody. Fetch water, woman, and quickly. Sit and 
 we will help thee!" 
 
 Hida waved aside the man's arm. He stood 
 glassy-eyed, swaying on unsteady feet. 
 
 "I bring thee the gift of the most high gods," he 
 whispered. "Swear by the spirits of thine ancestors 
 to guard it until they shall come for him." 
 
 The man trembled at the frightful face and strange 
 manner. Then Hida knelt down slowly and unrolled 
 the matting, revealing to the startled eyes of the 
 man the prince. The boy opened his eyes and stared 
 wildly. 
 
 "Swear!" came Hida's voice, like distant thunder, 
 as he rose to his feet. "Swear a sacred oath by the 
 spirits of thine ancestors!" 
 
 "I am but a poor farmer," faltered the man. "I 
 cannot feed mine own mouth and the mouths of my 
 wife and daughter. I send my rice to sell. I have 
 none to give to the sick." 
 
 "Swear!" commanded Hida. "Thou seest me 
 now on the brink of death. Wouldst thou have me 
 return again and stand as I stand'now to heap curses 
 on thy head and all thy house ? Wouldst thou have 
 my dying eyes haunt thee at thy food, at thy work, 
 and in thy sleep? Lest thy wife and daughter 
 perish, lest thy crops fail and thy house be consumed 
 with fire swear!"
 
 74 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 The man trembled under the spell of Hida's gaze. 
 He raised a quaking hand above his head. 
 
 "I swear," he mumbled. "I swear to care for 
 him as if he were mine own son. Art thou satisfied ? " 
 
 "I thank thee and will bless thee through a thou- 
 sand generations thee and thy house." Hida's 
 voice was weak now he swayed against the post. 
 
 "Who is the boy?" queried the farmer in an awed 
 whisper. 
 
 Hida threw back his old shoulders and brought 
 his heels together. He stood up straight as an arrow. 
 "Bow thy head to the earth," he groaned. "The 
 boy is the true, the sublime, the most noble " 
 
 He clapped his hands to his throat; his chest 
 heaved convulsively. With a gurgling sound he 
 whirled, tottered, and fell face downward across the 
 knees of the prince. 
 
 The farmer sprang to .catch the words he might 
 whisper. 
 
 " Saianara, little warrior I salute you." 
 
 Thus died Hida the Faithful, son of the Samurai, 
 soldier of Shikoku, servant and guardian of the Prince 
 Rennoske.
 
 Chapter 
 Broken Fingers 
 
 HIS feet sinking into the sand, the Baron 
 Matsuyama stood about sixty feet from 
 the burning summer palace, for the heat 
 was great and made him dizzy. 
 
 There was that burning inside him that was as 
 hot as the roaring flames the uncertainty of this 
 last moment. He bit his nails as he saw the peasants 
 and soldiers draw away from the burning building. 
 
 Had the prince and Hida perished in the fire? 
 That was good, though he would rather have had 
 him and the servant alive. His heart gave a bound 
 as he saw two of his men bearing a small, limp body 
 toward him. The gods be praised, this must be the 
 boy! 
 
 His heart churned the blood in his veins as the 
 men brought the body nearer. They laid it at his 
 feet. With a yell he got to his knees to look at the 
 face. When he saw who it was, he struck the thing 
 a vicious blow in the mouth it was the Ugly 
 Dwarf, half conscious, moaning in pain. 
 
 The baron cajoled, roared, commanded, and
 
 76 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 threatened. It was no use. To face living men was 
 one thing; to face the spirits of the dead amid 
 roaring fire not a man would budge. 
 
 The baron's rage turned again to the thing at his 
 feet. He kicked it soundly in the side. The dwarf 
 opened his eyes, howled, then thrust the fingers of 
 his left hand into his mouth, gurgling and coughing 
 with the pain of them. 
 
 "Speak, ape!" clamored his high excellency. 
 "Where are Hida and the prince? Do they live? 
 Answer, or, by Inari, I'll have thy tongue torn out!" 
 
 The dwarf waved his left hand madly in the air, 
 and with his right pointed to the earth. 
 
 "A hole in the earth!" he panted between howls. 
 "A trap they have gone through a trap in the 
 floor Hida I stabbed in the neck the boy was 
 not there hei! hei! my fingers they are broken 
 hei!" 
 
 And the dwarf squealed with pain, nor could all 
 the kickings of the baron get him to take his maimed 
 fingers from out his mouth again. 
 
 The baron ran up and down the sand waving his 
 long arms over his head. 
 
 "Two thousand yen for the dog Hida!" he shouted. 
 "Three thousand for the imbecile Rennoske! After 
 them ! Scour the woods, swim the waters search, 
 search, search! Who finds them will I make a 
 prince, to share the kingdom with the Black Boar!"
 
 BROKEN FINGERS 77 
 
 The peasants, who had stood about gaping at the 
 strange figure who raved up and down, the fire 
 throwing weird shadows on the beach, began to take 
 heed of his words. 
 
 "This way, brothers!" cried one, and led the way 
 up the hill. A dozen or so followed him. 
 
 "Nay, it is here the mouth of the tunnel is 
 here I know full well!" an old, cracked voice 
 shouted, running to the water's edge. Twenty-odd 
 followed him. 
 
 Soon the peasants were running in all directions, 
 shouting and baying like so many bloodhounds. 
 The baron listened to the sounds die away to the 
 east, the west, and the south. Still he stamped up 
 and down, gnawing his nails. 
 
 It was already sunrise when the fire died down, 
 and the summer palace lay a heap of smoking ashes. 
 It was noon before his high excellency called the 
 soldiers who remained about him off from the task 
 of raking and poking among the embers. They 
 could find no trace of the trap-door. The ashes 
 lay too thick superstition held the men from 
 searching very hard. 
 
 The sun had passed the zenith when the baron, 
 his back bent, strode wearily up the hill. 
 
 It was a glorious day. The gulls screeched over 
 his head, the sun danced upon the water. In the 
 woods the birds twittered; but he heeded them not.
 
 78 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Despair, disappointment, baffled desire, fought 
 within his breast. He passed through the stone 
 dragons of the gate, the dwarf at his heels, the 
 seventy-odd soldiers tramping wearily after in a 
 ragged file. 
 
 Before he reached the palace itself he crossed to a 
 building of stone that was built half-buried in the 
 earth. He beckoned to five of the soldiers to ac- 
 company him. 
 
 Two knights stood armed before the door of the 
 house. The fight was short the bronze-armored 
 men soon lay stretched out on the grass. 
 
 "Bide ye here a while," growled the baron to the 
 five. 
 
 They saw him descend the stone steps of the 
 godown. He came up again, bearing in each hand 
 a heavy bag. Back again to where the rest of the 
 men waited he shuffled, set one of the bags upon the 
 sunlit grass, and opened it. 
 
 Many times did those long fingers dive into the 
 bag and return from it, the gleam of gold shining 
 between them. One by one the men were paid. 
 
 "Shall we guard the godown, high excellency?" 
 one asked. 
 
 "There is no need," the baron snarled. "It is 
 empty. But," he added, with a significant raise of 
 his fine eyebrows, "we will fill it again, and for every 
 man who brings another to my service will I double
 
 BROKEN FINGERS 79 
 
 the sum I have given now. Ye shall find me more 
 than liberal; your women may wear fine silks, and 
 those that have no women may go abroad and take 
 what they see. A good master ye shall find me." 
 
 "A banzai to your high excellency," said the man. 
 
 They cheered with a will. 
 
 The baron smiled and went on: "Again for 
 the Black Boar, your Daimyo Nay, not here. 
 Spread about walk among the gardens, shouting: 
 'Long live the Matsuyama! Down with the Acka- 
 gawa! Long live the Black Boar!' Aye, we shall 
 have a merry time of it if ye will but serve me." 
 
 "And the peasants who helped?" queried the man. 
 
 "The peasants shall be served as peasants," 
 growled his high excellency. "Thou hast swords." 
 
 He left them then, treading the pebble-strewn 
 path in the direction of the palace. 
 
 Under the red-tiled roof of the throne-room he 
 found the woman Madame Golden Glow. Her 
 painted face was drawn, the black lines below her 
 eyes showing plainly her sleepless night. 
 
 "Well," she hissed, "are they slain?" 
 
 The baron cursed and ground his heel into the 
 matting. 
 
 "We know not!" he cried in guttural tones. 
 "Inari be cursed, we know not. But will I win 
 without him that I swear. The kingdom is mine 
 mine and my son's!"
 
 80 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 He stroked his mustache and nodded his well- 
 formed head. 
 
 Thus began the rule of the Matsuyama. 
 
 The young Black Boar's warriors wavering, 
 disaffected, to be bought, to be sold harried the 
 countryside, and, hirelings of a tyrant as they were, 
 carried abroad with their swords and iron heels the 
 unrest that permeated the palace. 
 
 As the years went by the peasants growled and 
 muttered under death-dealing taxes and brutal 
 collectors, while within the palace's tissue-paper 
 walls the baron and Madame Golden Glow plotted 
 and whispered, and taught the young Black Boar 
 how hard he might drive his kingdom and what he 
 must pay for the ride. 
 
 Upon a tiger skin under the crimson canopy, 
 heavy with gold and silver thread, sat the Black 
 Boar, a boy of seventeen, dark-skinned, dark-eyed, 
 the inky eyebrows meeting in a point over the 
 broad-nostriled nose. Squatted beside him was his 
 father. The woman was there, too, paint and 
 powder, silken wig, jeweled gewgaws, and all. 
 
 The room was dim, for the yellow paper walls 
 of the house were up. From outside, above the 
 clank of armor, came the shrill voice of command. 
 
 "Do you think, O my father," said the boy
 
 BROKEN FINGERS 81 
 
 wearily, "that the Captain Mori is a brave man, 
 and capable?" 
 
 The baron smiled. 
 
 "Skeptical even in thy youth, O my son," he 
 answered. "It is a good sign. Mori I trust. Has 
 he not increased thy army from seventy to nigh 
 upon seven hundred? Listen! He drills them now 
 and every morn. 
 
 "Secure hast thou sat upon thy throne for two 
 years without a sign of rebellion. Spring and fall 
 the taxes pour in. The godowns are full of rice and 
 wine. Is there aught that thou wouldst have? 
 Speak but to me or Mori, and the blades of fourteen 
 hundred swords will fetch it thee." 
 
 "Yet I fear the people," the boy went on, his 
 hands twisting the silken rope of the curtain. "You 
 know full well they loved the Ackagawa." 
 
 The baron sneered. 
 
 "And where are the Ackagawa, my son?" he 
 asked. "Rennoske is dead or useless. Didst thou 
 not rob him of his reason in that fight here upon 
 the Lawn of the Roses ? He is an imbecile if he 
 lives, which I doubt. His mother? Well dost thou 
 know his mother is no more hei, Madame Golden 
 Glow?" 
 
 The painted woman smiled back, black-toothed 
 and ugly. 
 
 "Who is there else? Hida was wounded by the
 
 82 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 dwarf his years were many. It is not in reason 
 he could long live. "Yet the dwarf goes abroad 
 with spies to every nook and corner of the land. 
 If Rennoske lives, he will find him. Art thou 
 satisfied?" 
 
 "But it is the peasants I fear," the boy insisted. 
 "How shall we curb them?" 
 
 The baron yawned and stretched his arms over 
 his head. 
 
 "Dost thou remember, son," he spoke in cool 
 tones, " the two great dogs we brought from the 
 distant lands of snow? No one could go near them 
 lest they be torn in bits. 
 
 "Dost thou remember the day they broke their 
 chains and killed a waiting-woman of the princess? 
 The archers shot at them, but missed; for days they 
 ran about till no one durst venture to take down their 
 shoji walls. Dost thou recall what I did? I saw 
 them go into the godozvn in search of food, and I 
 closed the door and kept them in. For days they 
 howled and whined. 
 
 "A week passed, and I had them let out again. 
 What were they, these ferocious beasts that had 
 threatened all our lives? Lean till the ribs showed, 
 the white teeth snapped harmless at the air, their 
 tongues lolled. 
 
 "They tried to run at me, but gods! I can 
 see them now they fell down ! Hunger, thirst,
 
 BROKEN FINGERS 83 
 
 and darkness had done what the arrows of the 
 archers could not do. I killed each one with a kick. 
 A child could have done as well. 
 
 "Dost thou see, boy? If the peasants rise, we 
 will take their food. Open the door, woman; let 
 us look upon our men-at-arms."
 
 Chapt 
 
 er 
 
 A Halted Terse in a Poem 
 
 STANDING in water that reached to the 
 middle of his well-rounded calves was a 
 Japanese boy of eighteen. 
 
 His face was a perfect oval, the eyes clear and 
 wide-open; a tinge of pink flushed his high cheek 
 bones; the mouth was small and well-formed, with 
 a rich fulness to the lower lip. His fingers, wrinkled 
 by long immersion, swiftly pulled forth green stalk 
 after green stalk, laying the rice plants on the mud 
 dike behind him in a neat row. 
 
 He was dressed in a haragakke, a short pinafore of 
 gray. Under it showed a shuban of cotton of the 
 same color, while over his loin cloth was drawn a 
 pair of heavy cotton trunks white they had been, 
 but were now stained in brown splotches by the 
 earth. 
 
 His legs were bare, and on his head a straw tycoon, 
 like an inverted soup bowl. Even as back bent low 
 and the head bobbed up and down in the sunlight, 
 his voice came in a steady, songlike monotone, form- 
 ing a sort of recitation.
 
 A HALTED VERSE IN A POEM 85 
 
 "Diligent even at thy task, Little Warrior?" 
 
 The boy looked up quickly at the words, then 
 bowed profoundly. Standing on the mud dike 
 above him was a thin, wrinkled old man in a faded 
 kimono. He was the Shinto priest, teacher, and 
 philosopher of the countryside, honored and re- 
 spected by all. 
 
 "I know it here in the rice fields, O holy sir," the 
 boy answered cheerfully. 
 
 "Then thou shouldst know it tomorrow," said 
 the priest. "A prayer and an offering at the house 
 shrine and all will be well. Thou dost not yet recall 
 the name of the man who brought thee hither?" he 
 added gravely. "It is not well to pray to a spirit 
 unknown." 
 
 "Then my prayers must be useless," the boy 
 replied. "I know the man was good to me and I 
 owe him my life, for it seems to me he brought me 
 here through great danger, but who he was I cannot 
 recall." 
 
 "And thyself?" quizzed the priest. 
 
 "Of myself I know still less," the boy answered. 
 "I have a confused remembrance of swords, armor, 
 and much shouting, then flames burst forth and all 
 is blackness. I cannot tell thee more, O holy sir, 
 for it pains me here." 
 
 The boy pointed to a jagged scar above his fore- 
 head.
 
 "Fear not," said the priest kindly. "Thou art 
 now the adopted son of Miyoshi the farmer, a sturdy 
 lad and clever. Pray to the spirit of thy dead bene- 
 factor, who must haunt his grave these six years. 
 May thy sinews grow with thy knowledge until 
 the morrow then, farewell." 
 
 The boy bowed low again as the old priest stalked 
 majestically along the dike, turned the corner of a 
 boulder, and was lost to sight among the pine 
 boughs. 
 
 All afternoon the boy toiled among the rice plants 
 in the water that trickled through irrigation ditches, 
 one above the other, on the mountainside through 
 the devious dikes of mud. All day long he culled 
 the rice, his lips busy the while, mumbling the long, 
 singsong recitation. 
 
 At last he knew that the sun was sinking, so he 
 rose and watched it, a scarlet ball, dip behind the 
 fir-clad hills. The country was mountainous on all 
 sides, the green slopes dotted with tiny houses of 
 bamboo and thatch. 
 
 The place where he stood was about four hundred 
 feet up the slope, which it rolled down rather 
 steeply to a narrow brown road that curved up 
 and down like a toboggan track. On the other 
 side it rose again for perhaps a hundred feet, then 
 fell again, a higher rise behind it, and so on, in- 
 numerable hills and dells, up and down, up and
 
 A HALTED VERSE IN A POEM 87 
 
 down, green with pine, spruce, cedar, and maple, 
 with the brown of cottage roofs the only contrast 
 against the vernal hue. 
 
 Above the boy, as he turned, the mountain towered 
 sheer, the top of it lost in a scarlet haze. 
 
 The boy heaved the sigh of one finished with his 
 task and glad of it. He climbed out of the ditch 
 and ran along the top of the highest dike, while the 
 sun turned the many ditches below him into flashing 
 ribbons of orange. 
 
 Once more a familiar scene came before him. 
 It was the tiny plateau, in the middle of which stood 
 the thatched roof of the cottage on its four beams and 
 platform of wood. 
 
 He saw the figure of Miyoshi the Farmer stand- 
 ing by a stone well, half enveloped in a cloud of 
 blue smoke. Under the roof the kimonos of two 
 women bustled about as they prepared the evening 
 meal. 
 
 There were two cherry trees before the house, 
 two more round wells of stone, and an oblong patch 
 of ground behind the cottage where the chrysanthe- 
 mums bloomed in November. This he had seen 
 often, so often that it had become woven into his 
 life, and he accepted it gladly as his life. 
 
 "How looks the crop for transplanting, son?" 
 asked Miyoshi, as the boy came up to him, his eyes 
 still on the charcoal brazier before him.
 
 88 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "'Tis a goodly one, my father," answered the 
 boy. "For you the winter should be a time of ease 
 and plenty." 
 
 "So," said the farmer with a grunt. "If I can 
 sell it all it may be. Yet methinks the soldiers of 
 the Matsuyama will be upon me to seize their half 
 after we have gone to the trouble to hull and bag it. 
 Blessed be the day when the Prince Rennoske comes 
 into his own if he ever does." 
 
 "And who is the Prince Rennoske, O my father?" 
 asked the boy. 
 
 So the farmer told the Prince Rennoske who he 
 was, but the Prince Rennoske learned nothing from 
 the telling learned not that he, the adopted son 
 of Miyoshi the Farmer, was himself the prince, the 
 hereditary Daimyo of the very ground he stood 
 upon. 
 
 And so in the twilight Prince Rennoske burned 
 charcoal, while the light in the west changed from 
 orange to blue over his dominion, and the blue of 
 the smoke from his fire rose straight up to mingle 
 with it. 
 
 "Father bids me tell you supper awaits you." 
 
 Rennoske looked up blinking from the red coals 
 to find a girl of fourteen, with eyes downcast, stand- 
 ing before him. 
 
 "Then it is welcome, O Kiku San," he answered. 
 "Welcome as thy presence here in the soft shades of
 
 A HALTED VERSE IN A POEM 89 
 
 evening." Then, leaning toward her, he added 
 softly: "And that is as welcome as the nightingale's 
 song in the springtime." 
 
 The girl blushed at the familiarity, then with a 
 rippling laugh turned and ran back to the house, 
 while the boy followed. 
 
 They squatted on the floor, each before a little 
 traylike table, the farmer, his wife, the boy, and 
 the girl. 
 
 Rennoske would raise his eyes from his bowl of 
 millet and they would meet the eyes of Kiku. And 
 then Kiku's eyes would fall not under Rennoske's 
 gaze, for she could have gazed upon him while her 
 food grew cold and never complain. It was the 
 eyes of her father she felt ashamed under girls 
 are not supposed to look so longingly at adopted 
 brothers. Yet Kiku looked when she dared. 
 
 Rennoske's eyes were somehow always there to 
 meet hers. Kiku's eyes he had not seen in his 
 childhood, he felt certain. He would not have 
 forgotten them if he had. 
 
 After the meal came the nightly game of shogi. 
 This daily bore had become a dread to Rennoske. 
 Better to sit by Kiku, who embroidered by the 
 alcove, where stood the green vase with the spray of 
 flowers. Better to stroll with her by the mountain 
 torrent and to watch the spray from it shine in the 
 moonlight.
 
 90 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 But talks and strolls with Kiku were forbidden 
 things since they had both grown up that is, 
 while Miyoshi was in sight, so the young man 
 swallowed a yawn and consented to let the farmer 
 checkmate him. 
 
 By this time Miyoshi's wife had brought out the 
 walls of paper with wooden frame and slid them into 
 the grooves so that the one room became four, with 
 one for each. Rennoske put up the outside walls, 
 and taking up his quilting went into the little paper- 
 enclosed square that was his own resting place. 
 He laid the bedding on whatever part of the heavy 
 grass matting best suited him, though there was 
 not much room for choice, and laying his head 
 upon his pillow of wood, he slept to dream of 
 Kiku's eyes. 
 
 In the early morning he rose and took the round 
 little bathtub of wood into the garden. Then with 
 water heated to the boiling point in a kettle placed 
 upon a rude brick stove outside, he took his hot bath. 
 Returning to the house, he donned his clean loin 
 cloth and shuban, and putting on his best kimono of 
 dark green, with the tan sash, he was ready. 
 
 This was the day of the poetic contest, and so the 
 farmer had excused him from work. 
 
 After a light meal he started off with the well- 
 wishes of his foster-father, his literary composition 
 in the wide sleeve of his garment. There was no
 
 A HALTED VERSE IN A POEM 91 
 
 reason why he should do so, but he took the path 
 that led by the rice fields. 
 
 There the reason became evident. Her kimono 
 tucked above her dainty ankles, awash in the green- 
 reflected water, stood Kiku. 
 
 "Wish me a lanternful of luck, O Kiku," cried 
 Rennoske. "I go to the contest." 
 
 "A lanternful is too small, Little Warrior," she 
 answered demurely. "Rather let my good wishes 
 fill a temple. May the chrysanthemum of thy poem 
 never fade." 
 
 "May she never," he answered smiling. "For 
 if the water below thee were still, there might you 
 see her, bright and yellow as the sun, O Kiku." 
 
 The girl hung her head, blushing again at the 
 tender play upon her name. Then, stooping quickly, 
 her hands were busy among the rice plants. 
 
 "Would that I might come with you to the 
 temple," she whispered without looking up. 
 
 "Would that you could, and farther," he answered 
 softly. 
 
 She did not look up, though her whirling brain was 
 far from the green stalks where her fingers were busy. 
 
 "I go," he went on. "Know that thou art the 
 flower of my poem, Kiku!" 
 
 But again Kiku did not reply, whereupon Ren- 
 noske went his way, wondering upon the strange 
 ways of women.
 
 92 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Kiku tried then to tell him, but it was more than 
 her trembling lips could utter. Still the tiny fingers 
 worked on among the green stalks. 
 
 A tear stole down her cheek and splashed in the 
 shallow water. She felt, as it was so quickly lost, 
 that this would be her life, her grief, but the tiniest 
 drop in the water of circumstance. She was but a 
 girl after all and girls had no right to opinions or 
 choice, in matters of love. 
 
 Rennoske kept to the mountain path that skirted 
 the edge of the pine belt above him. 
 
 Below the road ran parallel, and between it and 
 where he walked the slope was dotted with rice 
 fields and cottages, all alike, all with gardens at 
 the back, that faced the south. Oxen labored in 
 the mire; tycoon-covered heads of men, the bare 
 heads of women, their glossy hair shining in the 
 sun, bobbed up and down. A song floated to him, 
 now and then mingling with the splash of the 
 water. 
 
 By noon he came to the square in the center of 
 the village of Takenaka, where the people made 
 merry on holidays. He saw by the lack of shadow 
 on the green lawn that it must be high noon, and 
 struck off to his left through the maples, and by a 
 short cut through the woods reached the temple 
 grounds. 
 
 The temple itself was a small building, boasting
 
 A HALTED VERSE IN A POEM 93 
 
 a tiled roof with upturning eaves, elaborately painted 
 and carved. The sides were boarded with a bril- 
 liantly varnished pine, while paper-covered windows 
 were cut in the front, one to right and another to 
 the left of two swinging doors of bamboo. From 
 under these came the steady buzz of voices. 
 
 When Rennoske entered the other scholars were 
 already there, eleven in all, with quite a sprinkling 
 of fathers, brothers, grandfathers, and uncles, all 
 squatted upon the board floor. The old priest was 
 standing upon the single step below the shrine, which 
 stood on a raised platform. 
 
 The shrine itself was but a rude wooden figure of 
 the Fox Goddess Inari, flanked by two fantastic 
 pictures on silk. From the heavy log rafters hung 
 the great round brass gong with the padded stick 
 attached for the invocation of the goddess. 
 
 The priest saw the boy enter and nodded to him, 
 whereupon Rennoske bowed, and sat down in the 
 rear. The old philosopher began a long discourse 
 upon the muse of poetry, and the important place it 
 held in the lives of all true subjects of the Mikado 
 and true children of the Land of the Rising Sun. 
 Graven faces looked on without a sign, while eager 
 ears drank in every word. 
 
 And now the contest was begun by Tsunejuro, 
 tenth son of the Cormorant Fisher, who droned 
 forth "The Shining of Torches on the Still Water."
 
 94 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Gentaro, the Wagoner's son, delivered his effort 
 "The Wild Geese Flying Cross- Winged Over the 
 Meadow." One by one the boys recited their five- 
 syllable, seven-syllable verses in turn. 
 
 At length the old priest called out: "Little 
 Warrior, son of Miyoshi the Farmer, who will deliver 
 'A Lone Chrysanthemum in a Garden on the 
 Mountainside." 1 
 
 Rennoske walked majestically to the space before 
 the shrine, beat the gong thrice, and turned to face 
 his audience. Every one commented upon his 
 lofty bearing. The other boys felt the prize farther 
 from them. The old priest smiled. The boy began. 
 
 Almond eyes sparkled, dull brains marveled. 
 The words were an inspiration! Had another poet 
 like the great Tsuriyuki come among them? 
 
 "The daily task is easy when the golden flower 
 at dawn " 
 
 The boy stopped dead, and a titter ran about 
 the room. 
 
 "It is not finished, my son," whispered the old 
 priest anxiously. "There is more. Is it not about 
 the joy it gives thee?" 
 
 But never a word answered Rennoske. The boy's 
 eyes stared straight before him, the while a childish 
 smile was upon his lips. There was no pain there, 
 yet the face was a blank like a baby's. 
 
 "The sickness is upon him," said the old man, as
 
 A HALTED VERSE IN A POEM 95 
 
 he solemnly held up his hand. "We are to pity and 
 help him, for his mind is gifted. Tsunejuro and 
 Gentaro, fetch thou the boy home, and my prayers 
 shall be with ye both. Thou knowest where he 
 bides." 
 
 They brought Rennoske home between them, 
 an arm over each of their shoulders. Miyoshi they 
 found by his charcoal fire and told him what had 
 happened. 
 
 "Is it not odd? Is it not strange?" piped the 
 farmer at sight of the lad. "Thrice have I seen 
 him thus; like a stupid babe he stares and knows 
 us not. 
 
 "Come, lad," and he took Rennoske by the hand, 
 "lie thou in the house till this shall pass." Then 
 to the boys: "I thank thee both for thy services. 
 He will soon be well again." 
 
 The boys departed, giving each other sly nudges 
 and strange glances. The farmer led his foster-son 
 to his bed, bade him lie down, and placed about 
 him a folding screen of paper. 
 
 Then the old man sat upon his door-step and thus 
 mumbled to himself: 
 
 "The gods do strange things to those upon the 
 earth. A man comes to me with a roll of matting. 
 The matting he unrolls and discloses this lad, lying 
 there frighted half to death. 
 
 "The man makes me swear to guard this lad till
 
 96 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 he be sent for. I fain would refuse the man like 
 a tiger threatens me with haunting after death 
 I do as he bids me, for I want no spirits to curse my 
 food before it goes adown my gullet hei! A great 
 lad, a hulking lad strong, quick a help to me 
 he has been. 
 
 "The man who brought him must needs keep out 
 of my dreams, for I need the lad. But this this 
 this!" Miyoshi's voice rose to a high falsetto. 
 "To stare like a babe, to know naught, hei it is 
 strange! A perfect pot with a cracked lid, a fat ox 
 with a blind eye pish! The gods have made a 
 mistake to put so sour a wine in so fine a cup. Yet 
 must I to the rice fields. Kiku cannot do all alone." 
 
 And Miyoshi the Farmer strode along the path, 
 turning the strangeness of it over and over in his 
 mind; yet no conclusion could he come to. 
 
 Kiku San saw him coming, and quickly dried her 
 eyes.
 
 Chapter IX 
 
 Yellow Light through the Shoji 
 Walls 
 
 A JAPANESE boy, oval of face, knotty of > 
 limb, full-lipped and almond-eyed, took 
 down the last paper shutter of the cottage 
 on the tiny plateau. The air was chill, for the sun 
 had not yet shown its red rim over the distant fir- 
 clad hills. 
 
 He hummed to himself as he laid the frame in its 
 wooden box, for there was a tinge of autumn in the 
 air that set his blood tingling. He went to the 
 brick stove, set the kettle on the fire, and squatted 
 upon the ground to watch the water boil. 
 
 When the steam sang through the spout, he called 
 to his foster-father, and, when answered, rolled the 
 tub near the fire. Then he took his ax and walked 
 a hundred yards or so up the slope behind the house. 
 He selected a fine young pine, and soon the steady 
 chop of his blows resounded through the early 
 morning stillness, waking up the birds, who chirped 
 him a gay good-morning.
 
 98 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 A year had passed in that mountainside shoji 
 a year of many happenings. As the farmer had 
 predicted, the soldiers of the Matsuyama had come 
 and taken three-quarters of the rice crop. 
 
 Miyoshi had unwittingly protested, whereupon 
 he was rewarded by a kick in the groin that had left 
 him limping throughout the winter. Rennoske had 
 not seen the black-armored men, for he was afield 
 with Kiku. 
 
 The sight of the farmer, groaning and kick- 
 ing on the floor, had set a new feeling coursing 
 through the boy's blood. He hated himself for a 
 week after, for he had been doing less work in 
 the fields than he should have, having whiled away 
 most of the time with pretty speeches for Kiku's 
 ears. 
 
 "A little less play with a girl," he muttered scorn- 
 fully to himself. "An hour quicker to return home, 
 and I might have sent these blood sucking fiends 
 rolling down the hill." 
 
 He had great confidence in his own strength, this 
 nineteen-year-old boy. The fact that he had never 
 seen a soldier and was unarmed never entered his 
 head at all. The soldiers kicked his foster-father 
 hei! Offending soldiers were to be picked up about 
 the waist and flung like quoits down the hillside. 
 It was easy at nineteen. 
 
 But the resolve to play less with girls did not long
 
 THROUGH THE SHOJI WALLS 99 
 
 remain a reality. Kiku smiled so prettily when he 
 spoke, or cast down her head with a blush. 
 
 Once again neither old Japan nor a hard winter 
 made any difference. Kiku was a girl dainty, 
 sweet, pretty. Miyoshi frowned on their being 
 together much, so what could be more natural than 
 that they should be together at every chance they 
 could. We are still to remember, Rennoske was 
 nineteen ! 
 
 On this particular morning we find him chopping 
 down the young pine tree, his head was full of Kiku 
 San. Why not? The birds sang "Why not?" The 
 ax thudded "Why not?" He thought so himself. 
 
 At last the tree was down, and he spent a joyful 
 fifteen minutes sending it scampering down the hill. 
 He bathed in the tub, dressed again, and, hungry, 
 he squatted on the floor of the cottage before the 
 traylike table, waiting for breakfast. 
 
 Now he could have eaten three more bowls of the 
 millet; but he knew there was no more. What did 
 that matter? He hated to see Kiku pick up those 
 last few grains with her chopsticks and scrape her 
 bowl. The sight made his resolve of the woods all 
 the stronger. 
 
 "I must hie me to the fishing village this day ere 
 the sun grows hot," explained Miyoshi after the 
 meal. "There is a junk in the water I would see." 
 
 Kiku sniffed, whereupon her father scowled at her.
 
 TOO THE TURN OF THE. SWORD 
 
 Rennoske wondered at this, but said nothing. His 
 duty called him to the rice fields, so thither he went 
 with a light heart, as light as his stomach was empty. 
 
 His feet had not been long in the water before 
 Kiku came to help him. They worked in silence 
 side by side, the thing that trembled on the boy's 
 lips shut his mouth as those things will at nineteen. 
 
 At first the lad thought it nothing; but the sound 
 beside him, often repeated, made him look closely 
 at the girl. She must have felt his gaze, for the 
 sniffing changed to a soft sob. Yet her tiny fingers 
 worked on. 
 
 "Gentlest flower," asked Rennoske then, "why 
 dost thou grieve? Grieve not now, for I am happy, 
 and it is because of thee I am so." 
 
 "Do you know, O Little Warrior," she faltered, 
 "why my father goes this day to the fishing village 
 of Boruku?" 
 
 This was irrelevance indeed. He answered: 
 
 "Perhaps for fish perhaps for dried seaweed. 
 Aught else ? " 
 
 Kiku did not answer, bending her head over the 
 nodding stalks. The boy heard her sob again. Why 
 should she sob? Hei! Was this time for weeping? 
 The sun shone bright, the birds sang her father 
 went to the fishing village, and she wept. Surely 
 a maid was a strange, timid thing! 
 
 He kept his peace for an hour or two, but it would
 
 THROUGH THE SHOJI WALLS 101 
 
 not down. He tried, faltered, and failed; and so 
 the morning and the afternoon wore on, while they 
 worked there in the sunlight, side by side. 
 
 "Gentlest flower," he said at last, "thou and I 
 have spent many happy hours together. We have 
 wandered hand in hand by the mountain torrent, 
 and seen the spray rise pearly in the moonlight. 
 We have chased each other in the woods, happy in 
 our childhood. 
 
 "Of thee have I been ever fond, Kiku San, and to 
 prove I speak truly I will ask thy father for thy hand 
 in marriage. Then will I really be his son, then shall 
 I truly take his name to protect him from the soldiers 
 in his age, to be a help always. The spirit of the now 
 blessed man who brought me hither comes to me in 
 my dreams and tells me thou art to be my wife. 
 Art thou willing, Kiku San?" 
 
 "Aye," answered the girl, "willing as the mountain 
 torrent to rush toward the sea." 
 
 "Then, why weepest thou?" the boy insisted. 
 "I am here. I would be ever at thy side. Tell me, 
 why weepest thou, gentlest flower?" 
 
 "Have I not said," cried the girl petulantly, "that 
 my father went this day to the fishing village ? And 
 it is not for the dried seaweed, Little Warrior, not 
 for the dried seaweed ! " 
 
 She burst into tears. 
 
 "Why, then? Tell me, O Kiku. How dares any
 
 102 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 one hurt thee?" the boy spoke imperiously. "They 
 shall answer to the Fifty for this. Not one shall 
 remain living upon the " 
 
 He stopped suddenly, not realizing the purport of 
 his own words. The girl, too, stared at him through 
 her tears. Then, looking over his shoulder, she cried 
 out: 
 
 "See even now he comes!" 
 
 Dressed in his black, feast-day kimono, half 
 covered by a cheap silk haori of gray silk, picking 
 his steps in the unaccustomed straw sandals, Ren- 
 noske saw Miyoshi. Behind him stalked a tall man 
 in a robe of bright blue with a scarlet sash. 
 
 His head was bare and newly shaved, his topknot 
 dressed elaborately. As he approached Rennoske 
 noticed that his face was dark from exposure to the 
 sun, his little nose was turned up and pointed, and 
 his eyes snapped and glowed with health under high 
 brows. Rennoske wondered who he might be, 
 Kiku's "Even now he comes" echoing in his ears. 
 
 "Why comest thou not hither and quickly?" 
 snapped Miyoshi to his silent, motionless daughter. 
 "Thinkest thou we shall come to thee, minx?" 
 
 Kiku stepped awkwardly out of the ditch, and 
 with a little hop prostrated herself before the man in 
 blue. With unassumed grace he bowed profoundly 
 to her, while a scornful smile lit up his face, showing 
 a row of white, even teeth.
 
 THROUGH THE SHOJI WALLS 103 
 
 Then, as the girl rose, he brought from the sleeve 
 of his kimono a branch of cherry blossoms and 
 handed them to her with another low bow. Ren- 
 noske, watching open-eyed, saw the spray but touch 
 Kiku's fingers. 
 
 Even from where he stood he saw the fire that 
 blazed from her eyes. With a swift movement of 
 her tiny arm, she dashed the branch to the ground, 
 scattering to the wind the artificial petals of pink. 
 
 Miyoshi gasped. The man in blue stared open- 
 mouthed. Rennoske, scarcely knowing what he 
 did, sprang out of the ditch. 
 
 Hesitating but for an instant, the girl stamped her 
 foot, screamed with rage, then turned and ran toward 
 the house, leaving the three men to stare at one 
 another. 
 
 "How now, my son?" said Miyoshi, finding his 
 voice. "Hast thou filled my daughter's head with 
 frippery with thy smooth tongue that she should 
 act like a disobedient jade? What means this 
 outburst?" 
 
 Rennoske knew what it meant, or thought he did. 
 He had spoken of love and marriage to the girl. It 
 seemed to him as if he had been accepted. So out 
 he blurted boldly: 
 
 "I have filled the head of thy daughter with 
 naught that is dishonorable, O my father! It is 
 meet she refuses the blossoms, for I have asked her
 
 104 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 hand in marriage, and she would have no man but 
 me, nor I any woman but her. It is simple." 
 
 "God of the Sea!" roared the man in blue. "Thou 
 hast played me false, Miyoshi the Farmer! Thou 
 shalt answer for this!" 
 
 Miyoshi at first dropped his jaw and opened his 
 eyes in utter amazement. He stood in this mood 
 for a second or two, when another light came into his 
 eyes. His chest heaved slightly; then fast it moved 
 up and down, till, opening his mouth, the sound of 
 his laughter rang out. 
 
 "Hei ho, ho!" he roared, shaking. "My 
 daughter married to thee, thou hulking boy? And 
 what wilt thou give her? Where wilt thou bring 
 her if it could be? It can never be while this 
 man lives for to him she is betrothed, thou silly 
 lad." 
 
 "Betrothed!" said Rennoske in a far-away voice. 
 "Betrothed?" 
 
 Then, with a gurgling sound in his throat, he fell 
 heavily forward on his face upon the ground. 
 
 "God of the Sea!" cried the man in blue with 
 blanched cheeks, "I know death when it comes. 
 Thy words have killed the boy." 
 
 "It is even as I thought when he first fell so," 
 answered the farmer. "It is but a sickness he hath 
 that comes at odd times upon him. Sometimes 
 he falls as dead even as he did this moment; but
 
 THROUGH THE SHOJI WALLS 105 
 
 mostly he stares like a babe at naught and knows 
 us not. Do not heed him, Osaki; he knew not of 
 thee. Come, give me a hand with him. So, thou 
 hast his arms. Hei! It is strange how he came 
 among us." 
 
 "How was that?" asked Osaki as they carried the 
 limp figure to the house. 
 
 Miyoshi told him of the coming and the death of 
 Hida. 
 
 "But I cannot send him hence," the farmer 
 explained as he passed the first of the round stone 
 wells. "The dead man's eyes come to me in my 
 dreams when I but think to do so. His spirit 
 watched o'er the boy; he must be blessed." 
 
 "Yet an oath is an oath, Miyoshi the Farmer," 
 said Osaki, as they passed under the cherry trees. 
 
 "And shall remain sacred, O Osaki!" said Miyo- 
 shi as they entered the house. 
 
 He laid Rennoske as before upon his bedding and 
 placed the screen about him. Then, with a signifi- 
 cant look at his daughter, who cowered by one of the 
 corner posts, he snapped: 
 
 " Remember thou art but a girl, hence thou must 
 obey. To thy task, and quickly, wench Isoge!" 
 
 Quickly Kiku went, toddling out of the house and 
 down the path to the rice fields. Soon her fingers 
 were busy, and for a while her tears fell into the 
 water that washed about her dainty ankles.
 
 io6 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Osaki her betrothed forsooth ! She hated 
 him she would not marry him. There must be 
 some way out of that? 
 
 She dashed the tears from her eyes and stood up, 
 thinking. After all, there had been no word of that. 
 He had only given her the blossoms of betrothal. 
 She had refused them. 
 
 That thought gave her courage she could do so 
 again. Thinking on, she decided against it. She 
 must be wily and cunning, she must listen and find 
 out what was in the wind. And Rennoske? 
 
 His words came quickly back to her. In fancy 
 she saw him again standing beside her. 
 
 How strong, how noble he looked! His short 
 pinafore was gray and dirty it was not so to her. 
 His words were slow and bashful they did not 
 seem so to her. How different from this silk-clad, 
 perfumed sailor! 
 
 The sickness that brought forth another tender 
 thought. What were sicknesses to her? Would not 
 she pray to all the gods to clear his mind from that? 
 Could she not help him and work for him day by 
 day? 
 
 Osaki, hunter of the seal, cold, sneering, scorn- 
 ful Osaki. He her betrothed out upon it! All 
 the laws and all the vows aye, all the fathers 
 upon earth could not make her be his wife. She, 
 Kiku San, loved Rennoske, and he oh, divinely
 
 THROUGH THE SHOJI WALLS 107 
 
 tender, or gloriously beautiful, thought! he loved 
 her! 
 
 The sun set and Kiku toddled home again as 
 her father, her mother, and Osaki were sitting down 
 to supper. There was bean-curd soup, raw carp, 
 rice, and bamboo sprouts, all the gifts of Osaki; but 
 not for Kiku. A bowl of millet was plenty for a dis- 
 obedient girl. She was made to go to bed before 
 the drinking bout of hot sakkee before the meal 
 was over, while her father and her betrothed ate, 
 drank, and played chess in the light of six paper 
 lanterns brought out for the occasion. 
 
 She lay there for hours behind the walls of paper, 
 her mother asleep beside her. Her sleek, black 
 hair, its dressing undisturbed by the pillow of wood, 
 while her tired little body lay stretched out upon the 
 wadded bedding. Soon her father's voice, slightly 
 raised in tone from the effects of the wine, came to 
 her listening ears: 
 
 "Thinkest thou, Osaki, I have been false to the 
 vow I and thy father made when thou and my 
 daughter were but children? Did not we swear by 
 the blessed spirits of our ancestors " 
 
 "May they ever guard and keep us from all 
 harm," interrupted Osaki's voice. 
 
 "Aye," the farmer went on, "by thine ancestors 
 and mine did we swear that my daughter should be 
 brought a bride to thy house while we burned the
 
 io8 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 funeral fire outside our gate and gave her the robe of 
 white to signify she was dead to us, and shall be 
 borne from thee only as a corpse. Thus did we 
 swear, Osaki." 
 
 "But the boy?" came Osaki's voice again. "He 
 said thy daughter would have none but him, and he 
 none but her. Thy daughter may refuse my first 
 gift. I cannot force her to be my wife, nor will I." 
 
 Kiku San heard her father guffaw. 
 
 "And why dost thou pay heed to him, Osaki? 
 Is he not my adopted son, and must he not obey me 
 in all things? Moreover, were shoji to be had for 
 the price of a fish-hook, he could not purchase him- 
 self a thatch roof. 
 
 "A penniless boy that is dependent upon me for 
 his millet! Let thy fear sink in the sea, Osaki. 
 My daughter shall be thy bride. She shall obey 
 thy mother as a wife should. I am firm as Fujiyama 
 upon that." 
 
 "Listen, then, O Farmer of the Three Wells." 
 Osaki's voice came soft and low. " I go tomorrow to 
 the cold and distant land of Yezo. Thither I go and 
 farther to hunt the seal. Then shall I bring back 
 many pelts and sell them. When the cherry blossoms 
 are on the trees again, when the nightingale sings in 
 the fir trees, then will I return for my bride." 
 
 "Many yen for thy sealskins," chuckled Miyoshi. 
 "It is a bargain then, Osaki. Let us drink."
 
 THROUGH THE SHOJI WALLS 109 
 
 "Let us drink, then," Osaki answered; "my 
 father-in-law that is to be." 
 
 Kiku heard the clink of the cups and drew a tiny 
 hand across her eyes. But it was not to shut out 
 the light that came yellow through the paper shoji 
 walls.
 
 Chapter X 
 
 The Wish for the Second 
 Sword 
 
 RENNOSKE, hereditary Daimyo of the prov- 
 ince, feudal lord of old Japan, awoke from 
 his trancelike sleep an hour before the dawn. 
 He knew neither his title nor his heritage. 
 
 He remembered clearly that he was the adopted 
 son of Miyoshi the Farmer, and also why he had 
 been ill again. 
 
 Kiku San, his little foster-sister, the companion 
 of his boyhood, was the betrothed of the man in 
 blue. So much for that and the sting of it. 
 
 Another thing was knocking at the gate of his 
 brain a strange desire. At first he could not 
 fathom it; but as he lay there it came to him so 
 clearly, so forcibly, that he must needs pay it some 
 attention. 
 
 The desire was to take his sword and dash out the 
 brains of Osaki, shake it threateningly at Miyoshi, 
 pick up Kiku San under his arm and carry her
 
 WISH FOR SECOND SWORD in 
 
 through all the land of Nippon till he had found his 
 kin and his birthright, claim her as his bride before 
 all, marry her, and live a life of ease and plenty. 
 Always a sword! 
 
 So strong was the instinct that he sat up and felt 
 beside him. There was no sword there. What 
 wild fancy was it that made him think he had one? 
 Where had he ever seen one? Not since he had 
 been here under this roof? It must have been in 
 that other boyhood, that boyhood that came now 
 and then in strange flashes. 
 
 Yes, he was sure of it now, a long sword he had, 
 the handle inlaid with gold. He would have it 
 again then let him beware, this man in blue ! 
 
 All this was lost again in the usual morning bath, 
 wood-cutting, and the rest till breakfast came. 
 That, thanks be to the gods, was plentiful enough 
 on account of the guest. 
 
 "I fear I cannot go with thee to the ship," said 
 Miyoshi during the meal. "My side pains me and 
 the walk is far, yet Kiku should not go alone." 
 
 "Yet what of the garments, my gifts to thee?" 
 said the sailor. "A juban of silk, a wadded shitagi 
 for the winter, and an obi of yellow for my betrothed, 
 if she will deign to accept my gift. Then there is 
 seaweed, bamboo, and spiced ginger, all in a great 
 box. Who shall fetch them?" 
 
 "Cannot the boy go?" said the farmer.
 
 ii2 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Osaki raised his eyebrows, and showed his teeth 
 in an insolent smile. 
 
 "Is he strong enough?" he said with a sneer. "I 
 would not have him lie by the roadside for the girl 
 to drag home." 
 
 It was in Rennoske's mind to tell the sailor that 
 he was strong enough to thrust his words along his 
 throat. Yet he choked his choler and answered 
 firmly : 
 
 "I am willing to carry aught that you desire, my 
 father." 
 
 The farmer and Osaki exchanged glances that 
 said plainly: "He has changed his tune." 
 
 Osaki sneered and poohed, yet the upshot of the 
 affair was that the boy was to go along. 
 
 Kiku dressed in her best traveling-robe of brown. 
 All morning she was meek and docile, a sight that 
 made her father congratulate himself on the effect 
 of his discipline. Osaki was pleased to observe that 
 she had not refused the offer of the sash. 
 
 At about eight o'clock the trio started off down the 
 zigzag path down the mountainside. Kiku and 
 Osaki walked ahead, while Rennoske, still in his 
 short kimono, sash, and trunks, his sinewy legs bare 
 from mid-thigh to foot, trailed on behind. 
 
 The boy was living keenly in every inch of his 
 frame, his senses alert, for this was his first long 
 trip out into the world; a jaunt to the temple, or
 
 WISH FOR SECOND SWORD 113 
 
 an hour or two of play at Takenaka, having been 
 all he had ever known before. He drank deep of 
 every sound, sight, and smell. 
 
 The road led him along the base of the mountain- 
 side. On his right were dense woods on rising 
 ground, the trees mostly pine, fir, and cedar, with 
 here and there a maple. The roof of a cottage poked 
 above the green, another showed in a green hollow, 
 while the blue smoke from a round hut filtered 
 through the cool shade. 
 
 These he knew were the homes of wood-cutters 
 and charcoal-burners mostly, children of the forest. 
 To his left the scene was as if he looked upon his own 
 home, for there were the dikes of the rice fields, like 
 steps of a stair, the heads of the workers bobbing 
 up and down. Behind, where the mountain towered, 
 a tiny cottage perched here and there like swal- 
 lows' nests. 
 
 By noon they reached the fork in the road. On 
 the left it led up to the village of Takenaka, whose 
 roofs showed every shade and tint of brown above 
 the green of the trees and the gray of the granite 
 boulders that stuck up out of the earth, resembling 
 a miniature Gibraltar. They took the other road, 
 Osaki and the girl, the one to the right, and the boy 
 followed on. 
 
 This path for it was no more than a thin, brown 
 rut through the fallen leaves of the forest wound
 
 ii 4 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 in and out of black bogs and pools of stagnant 
 water. 
 
 Rennoske saw mystery in everything. The fine 
 tracery of a spider's web, the scarlet of sumac, a 
 swooping hawk upon a robin everything had so 
 much interest for him that he forgot the man and 
 girl who were his guides. He was surprised, there- 
 fore, to come upon Osaki and Kiku, standing upon 
 the moss and fern-grown bank of a swollen stream 
 that rushed, foam-white, and tumbling to a roaring 
 fall, some fifty yards below. 
 
 "Look thee, boy!" said the sailor authoritatively 
 as he came up. "Thou seest yonder log that lieth 
 one end in this stream. It should be our bridge, 
 for yesterday I crossed it. Now, as thou seest, it 
 hath tumbled into the stream, and we cannot cross." 
 
 The seal-hunter looked Rennoske squarely in 
 the eye, his own with the light of mischief in them. 
 Then the brows came up, the lips parted, and the 
 scornful smile was in the even teeth. He went on: 
 
 "Thou, my mighty lad, hast on no sandals. 
 Were I the same, could I ford this trickle and lift 
 yonder log to its place upon the bank. But the 
 way is slippery; the torrent rushes free to sweep 
 from under them the feet of those who dare brave 
 its foaming rush. 
 
 "Thou hast not the strength nor the courage 
 for such a deed, I fear; so it must be that I shall
 
 WISH FOR SECOND SWORD 115 
 
 do it, since thou art afraid. Boys were not so when 
 I was one." 
 
 And Osaki sat down upon the bank and untied 
 his sandal. 
 
 Every one of the seal-hunter's words struck Ren- 
 noske like a whip-lash. "Some talk while others 
 do, Osaki," he answered. "Thou shalt walk dry- 
 shod upon the bank." Then he leaped into the 
 stream. 
 
 Kiku screamed and ran to the edge. Osaki, 
 shooting out his arm, caught her by the kimono- 
 sleeve and held her. He slowly let his eyes wander 
 to the stream, and smiled at the struggling lad in 
 the water. 
 
 "Hei!" he muttered. "Thus will the child of 
 Nowhere be swept back to Nowhere. Thus do the 
 waters serve me as they have ever done. Squirm 
 and twist, wondrous boy! Call now to the spirit 
 that watches o'er thee. So does he hear, O Kiku 
 San?" 
 
 And Osaki laughed softly to himself. 
 
 "The spirit hears, Osaki!" cried Kiku, her breath 
 coming fast. "See he gains the bank a little 
 farther, Little Warrior on, on See, Osaki 
 he stands firm!" 
 
 Rennoske, instinctively balancing himself with 
 outstretched arms, was indeed nearing the opposite 
 bank. The white water lashed itself into a foam
 
 ii6 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 about his hips, making a " V" of calm water on either 
 side of his waist. Slowly he felt his way on uncertain 
 feet to where the log lay, and the most difficult 
 part of his task awaited him, for he must lift the log 
 out of the water and raise it high above his head. 
 
 And now the rippling-muscled arms encircled the 
 wet wood, the nails of his fingers dug deep into 
 the slimy bark. Slowly the torrent gave it up, while 
 the veins stood out on the boy's forehead like whip- 
 cords. 
 
 He heard Kiku scream again as his foot slipped 
 upon the bottom. He was ofF his balance now, 
 his arms no longer keeping him from falling. He 
 knew he must go with the current. This he thought 
 in that minutest fraction of a second, while he felt 
 the sole of his foot slide along the stone; then his 
 heel caught between two other stones behind it. 
 
 Panting now with the effort, with a mighty heave 
 the log came free from the water and thumped 
 sodden, dripping a thousand bright drops upon the 
 soft, black earth of the bank. 
 
 "Well done, brother!" That from Kiku was his 
 reward. 
 
 "Hold it now till we pass over!" called Osaki. 
 He picked up the girl in his arms, and planting his 
 feet firmly on the log, he started to cross the crazy 
 bridge. 
 
 But wo to those who hold their own deeds so
 
 WISH FOR SECOND SWORD 117 
 
 highly, and look so lightly upon the deeds of others. 
 About midway between the banks Osaki, the sure- 
 footed, slipped. 
 
 He uttered a yell of dismay, and the instinct of 
 self-preservation strong within him, he threw out 
 his arms to right himself, while the girl tumbled 
 into the stream that boiled and hissed below. 
 
 But Rennoske had seen the plight of his "gentlest 
 flower" none too soon. He caught the girl in his 
 outstretched arms. When he looked up, Osaki 
 was on the bank above him, holding out his arms. 
 
 "Quick, boy!'* he called. "Give me the girl ere 
 the current sweep you both away ! " 
 
 Rennoske, in that swift moment, saw every detail 
 of the scene about him. There was the bank, black- 
 soiled and fern-grown. Behind it the dark, cool 
 forest of pine, fir, and maple, stretched away in 
 long aisles of black shadow, and sunlit patch. 
 
 There before him stooped the man in blue with 
 the scarlet sash. Rennoske looked squarely into 
 his terror-stricken eyes. 
 
 "And what if it did, Osaki?" he asked calmly. 
 "Where wouldst thou be, and thy boasting and thy 
 bragging and thy belittling of me in her eyes? 
 Fooled Osaki, hei, how he trembles! Thou art 
 fooled, Osaki, braggart and little-hearted man! 
 See, we go!" 
 
 "Nay, nay, nay!" Osaki screamed, his mouth
 
 ii8 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 working horribly. "Give me the girl! Thou ser- 
 pent's brat! Thou unknown, nameless dog! Give 
 me the girl!" 
 
 Rennoske laughed in the seal-hunter's face. 
 
 "Take her, then, white-livered fisherman!" he 
 scoffed. "Take her, and that will stop thy quaking. 
 So carefully, for she hath swooned." 
 
 Rennoske stood dripping upon the bank. "What 
 thinkest thou of the boys of nowadays?" he mut- 
 tered. "Were they so when thou wert one?" 
 
 "I shall tell the deed at my wedding, boy. Wilt 
 thou be there?" 
 
 There was a changed Osaki that led the way 
 through the rest of the forest. They reached a 
 white sandy road through a salt marsh in another 
 half-hour's walk. 
 
 Rennoske came behind the sailor and the now 
 chatting and laughing girl, swinging along with all 
 the swagger of a wandering swashbuckler. 
 
 As the salt air tinged his nostrils he wished for 
 more rushing torrents to ford, more maidens to 
 rescue. Out of pure excess of youthful spirits he 
 ran ahead, gave a cry as he leaped high in the air, 
 turned, and landed on his palms, and sprang back 
 again with the agility of a cat. 
 
 "Where learned you that cry?" asked Osaki, 
 puzzled. 
 
 "'Twas the first that came to my lips," answered
 
 WISH FOR SECOND SWORD 119 
 
 the boy. "Hast thou heard it before? Tell me 
 where, Osaki?" 
 
 But Osaki's face was like stone, while his eyes 
 blazed upon the face of the boy. He did remember 
 the cry remembered it as coming from the lips 
 of a Samurai upon a charging pony as he cut his 
 way through a mob of rebellious fishermen. 
 
 Osaki's eyes blazed, for he knew his rival to be 
 no witless boy, but a foe worthy of his steel. What 
 he was remained a mystery. Yet he was more than 
 the adopted son of Miyoshi the Farmer. That he 
 knew and dreaded. 
 
 The semicircle of the fishers' huts came into view 
 through the grass. A little farther, and the sea 
 stretched out before them, green, blue, and gold. 
 At the end of a single sandspit the square sail 
 of a junk was silhouetted against the dazzling 
 water. 
 
 "See!" cried Osaki, pointing to it. "There floats 
 my Maya Maru. A brave ship that fears neither 
 the ice of the north nor the typhoons of the southern 
 seas. Thou shouldst be a sailor, boy. They are 
 the doers of brave deeds." 
 
 "Gladly would I be one, then," answered Ren- 
 noske. "Yet I fear my father would not have me 
 go. The man who brought me bid him keep me 
 until 'they' should come for me." 
 
 "And who are 'they'?" queried Osaki, frowning.
 
 120 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "So that I know not," answered Rennoske. 
 "See the strange birds!" 
 
 The boy's eye had been caught by four cormorant 
 fishers who were taking the ungainly birds out of 
 their baskets. One by one the fowls, each with a 
 ring about its neck, to which a string was attached, 
 were caught by the men, and their long bills opened 
 and their gullets emptied of fish. Each bird 
 shook itself and squawked, hopping back to its own 
 particular basket like an old, lame hermit going to 
 his cave. 
 
 Rennoske would have questioned; but a group 
 of half-naked boys upon the beach again attracted 
 his attention as they played at battledore and shuttle- 
 cock. It was with reluctance that he moved on 
 after Osaki and the girl, his feet sinking deep into 
 the sand. 
 
 Coming near the ship, he saw the sailors in their 
 short pinafores of black with Osaki's name on each 
 man's back in white characters. These bustled 
 about with teak boxes, carrying them down a 
 rickety gangplank. As Osaki came up to them, they 
 prostrated themselves in the white sand. 
 
 "How goes the cargo, Iwashi?" he called to a 
 sturdy fellow with a white kerchief about his fore- 
 head. 
 
 "All is ashore but the presents for the mountain, 
 O captain," answered the man.
 
 WISH FOR SECOND SWORD 121 
 
 "Bring them to the lad here," snapped the seal- 
 hunter, motioning to Rennoske. "Then sport 
 yourselves, for there will be work enough for all ere 
 midnight." 
 
 He turned to Kiku, and said suavely: "Wouldst 
 thou see my ship, O maiden? The decks have 
 never been trod by woman's feet. Perhaps luck 
 will follow thy dainty tread." 
 
 "If I can bring it, Osaki," answered the girl. 
 "I go gladly." 
 
 Osaki arched his eyebrows significantly at Ren- 
 noske, then, touching Kiku's finger-tips, he led her 
 up the gangplank. 
 
 Rennoske stood on the sand, arms akimbo, legs 
 spread far apart, looking out on the broad expanse 
 of sea, dotted with the square sails of three or four 
 junks and smaller moving specks of black that were 
 the fishing-boats. He was awakened from a reverie 
 by the soft voice of Iwashi. 
 
 "The captain bid me give to thee this box," said 
 the sailor, laying the bamboo and teak thing at his 
 feet. Rennoske nodded pleasantly, while the sailor 
 stepped back a pace or two and stood eyeing him. 
 
 "How art thou called?" asked the man at length. 
 
 "Little Warrior, son of the Farmer of the Three 
 Wells." 
 
 The sailor sneered at the word "farmer." With- 
 out another word he stripped off his hara-gake and
 
 122 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 shirushi-hiki, and stood in his loin cloth, a muscular 
 figure. 
 
 "I would cool myself in the water, Little Warrior!" 
 he called banteringly. "'Yet methinks that thou, 
 a farmer's son, canst not swim." 
 
 "That I know not," answered Rennoske, remov- 
 ing his own kimono and shirt. "Yet will I try with 
 thee." 
 
 The man looked puzzled. 
 
 "Be careful," he said. "The water is many 
 fathoms deep. Those who know not whether they 
 can swim or not had best keep out of it." 
 
 With a splash he dived into the water. A second 
 after him came Rennoske. Down under the green 
 water he went. It roared in his ears, confusing him. 
 
 Then, coming to the surface, he struck out, face 
 downward, arms churning over his head. His 
 brain was awhirl as he shot ahead. He could swim, 
 and well, for, glancing over his shoulder, he saw 
 that he was drawing away from Iwashi. Where 
 had he learned this? 
 
 They kept up their splashing until their feet 
 touched bottom near the shore. Iwashi looked 
 at the boy through water-beaded eyelashes. 
 
 "I gave not full rein to my strength," he said, 
 puffing. "Let us race back to the ship." 
 
 "Agreed," cried Rennoske in boyish enthusiasm, 
 and kicked himself free.
 
 WISH FOR SECOND SWORD 123 
 
 Iwashi had indeed checked his strength. Ren- 
 noske heard his puffing and splashing ever beside 
 him. Soon there were shouts on the sand. The 
 sailors had seen the race and were crying encourag- 
 ingly to their fellow. But if Iwashi had not given 
 full rein to his strength, neither did Rennoske. 
 
 Taking a full breath about a hundred feet from 
 the shore, the boy sank his head deep into the brine, 
 and thrashing his legs from the knee down, his arms 
 plunged through the water with a swift downward 
 sweep. He rose dripping on the sand and turned 
 to find Iwashi yet in the sea, ten feet from the shore. 
 There were shouts of derision as the sailor emerged 
 from the water. 
 
 "Thy match is met, Iwashi," they cried. "There 
 is one in all Japan who can defeat thee. Gods, 
 what a stroke! Where learned he it?" 
 
 Something within the soul of Rennoske was wildly 
 clamoring. He ran up and down the beach, his 
 spirits seeming winged. Something in the pile of 
 teak boxes near the ship caught his eye. 
 
 Three long bamboo poles lay on the beach. He 
 picked one up. Why, he asked himself, did he grasp 
 it at one end with both hands? Then the feeling 
 he had at dawn came back to him. Surely this was 
 the length of a sword and one swung it above one's 
 head thus! He cut viciously at the head of an 
 imaginary foe.
 
 i2 4 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Came Iwashi and the other five of the crew of the 
 Maya Maru to watch the lad who had defeated their 
 champion at swimming. What now were these 
 wonderful actions? What did the magical boy do 
 with this long bamboo pole? 
 
 "Come, Iwashi," cried the boy. "Pick up a pole 
 and joust with me. Come, lest I crack thee over 
 thy bald pate." 
 
 Now Iwashi, mate of the Maya Maru, was in no 
 good humor, and even though he had never had a 
 sword in his hand, he had seen many used. 
 
 "Impudent raiser of rice!" he yelled, seizing a 
 pole. "I'll teach thee to make sport of Iwashi!" 
 
 With another yell he rushed at Rennoske, making 
 a swinging cut at his head. But alas for hands that 
 had never held a sword against hands that had been 
 trained by an old soldier of Shikoku though they knew 
 it not. The boy's pole parried and with a thwack, 
 came down on Iwashi's shaven head, following with 
 a poke in the ribs that sent the sailor sprawling. 
 
 Long and loud laughed the crew of the Maya Maru. 
 Frantic were the struggles of Iwashi as he rose to 
 his feet. Completely losing his head, he picked up 
 the pole again and rushed madly at the boy, whirling 
 the stick over his head. 
 
 This time Rennoske's pole cracked him soundly 
 across the shins. Iwashi, mate of the Maya Maru, 
 dropped his pole, howling. He had had enough.
 
 WISH FOR SECOND SWORD 125 
 
 "Try it. Then will you all find how easy it is,'* 
 he whimpered to the laughing crew. 
 
 "He is but a boy, Iwashi," said one of them. 
 "For shame to be beaten by a boy. Ho, ho!" 
 
 "So. A boy with a wrist of steel," Iwashi an- 
 swered. "Try it, thou; then will I laugh myself." 
 
 The sailor tried indeed, and Iwashi laughed indeed, 
 for the boy's opponent hopped ridiculously about 
 on the sand, one hand rubbing his head, while he 
 strove to rub his shins with the other. 
 
 Next two were tried at once. Try as they might, 
 their poles could not come within a foot of Rennoske's 
 head, while their own were cracked unmercifully. 
 
 "Gods of the Sea, what scurvy knaves have I for 
 a crew!" boomed Osaki's voice from the gangplank. 
 "A boy of eighteen to crack your heads and you 
 cannot touch him two to one faugh!" 
 
 Rennoske, with the joy of victory thumping in 
 his breast and rushing to his temples, called back, 
 "Try it thou, hunter of the seal! Or dost thou 
 fear I will muss thy head-dress?" 
 
 Osaki smiled his insolent smile, and walking down 
 the gangplank, took one of the sticks from the ground. 
 With a firm grasp he held it aloft with both hands. 
 "Come, braggart," he said through his clenched 
 teeth. "Come, speaker of bold words, my queue 
 will not be touched a hair. Come!" 
 
 The laughter of the crew changed to silent interest
 
 126 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 as the sticks sounded hollow in the cut and parry. 
 Round in a circle went the man in his flowing 
 robes of blue and the lithe-muscled boy. The 
 shadow of the great square sail of the ship moved 
 an inch on the sand, yet neither had struck a blow. 
 They ducked, thrust, parried, their eyes gleaming, 
 breaths coming fast through parted lips. 
 
 Suddenly Rennoske brought his stick down with 
 a resounding whack on Osaki's knuckles. With a 
 howl the sailor dropped his pole of bamboo. Yet 
 before the boy could lift his weapon, Osaki caught 
 his uplifted arm by the wrist in a firm grasp. 
 
 "Thou art disarmed," whispered the boy. 
 
 "And thou art helpless," answered Osaki, his face 
 close. 
 
 "Even so, but had I the second sword, I would 
 pierce thy entrails, hunter of the seal!" 
 
 A sudden change came over Osaki's face, a look 
 of a dog that has snapped at his master. His hand 
 relaxed, his voice came in an awed whisper: 
 
 "I know not who you are but what you are, 
 I know full well!"
 
 Chapter XI 
 The Sight of an Ugly Face 
 
 THE crew of the Maya Maru stopped their 
 sport and were clambering up over the 
 ship's sides, busy with rope, anchor, and 
 rudder, for the order had been given to cast off. 
 
 Rennoske stood by the water's edge, again in his 
 short kimono, the rising tide eddying and swirling 
 about his bare feet. He stood spread-legged, lip 
 between thumb and forefinger, pondering upon the 
 seal-hunter's words. 
 
 Why had he so much and yet so little? Why 
 the change from the familiar "thou" to the respect- 
 ful "you"? Osaki was his elder. What wonderful 
 revelation was behind that "what you are"? 
 
 Then the sword crowded this out with a sudden 
 rush of thought. Where had he learned the use of 
 it? for he could use it, and well. How did he know 
 there should have been two of them? What did 
 that imply? Try as he might, it meant nothing 
 except baffling ponderings. 
 
 He could ford rushing torrents, rescue maidens, 
 swim like a fish, faster than another known for his
 
 128 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 speed in the water. He could use a bamboo pole so 
 well that two to one could not harm him. Truly, 
 as he mirrored himself in his own thoughts, by the 
 light of his own deeds, he was a wonderful person. 
 
 His thoughts were interrupted by the loud voice 
 of the master of the ship. The gentleman in ques- 
 tion was evidently in a state of great excitement. 
 Rennoske was surprised to see the gangplank being 
 put down again and the great sail, that had been 
 raised, creaking and squealing down again on her 
 rings. 
 
 "And hast thou not seen her, dogs?" Osaki 
 roared. "She stood beside me as I looked down 
 upon thy sport. Drop again the anchor, clowns 
 that ye are. Gods of the Sea, look not so stupidly 
 upon me search for her!" 
 
 Then it suddenly occurred to the boy on the 
 beach that his conceit had made him forget Kiku. 
 Where was the girl? He had not seen her since 
 she went with Osaki aboard the ship. 
 
 His recollection of the seal-hunter's deeds of the 
 morning gave him quite a qualm. Could it be that 
 Osaki took this means of abducting the girl before 
 his very eyes, thus putting an end forever to the 
 rivalry ? 
 
 He asked himself no further; but running to the 
 ship's stern, he caught hold of a line and hauled 
 himself, hand over hand, to the deck.
 
 SIGHT OF AN UGLY FACE 129 
 
 "A pretty deed is this, boy!" cried Osaki to him, 
 as he clambered over the rail. "The girl is gone!" 
 
 "Then it is thou who hast done the foul deed, 
 Osaki," Rennoske answered angrily. "Thou hast 
 many tricks in thy bag, sailor. Why dost stand 
 there gibbering, shamming a loss thou knowest 
 thou hast not?" 
 
 "What mean you?" Osaki thundered, straighten- 
 ing his broad shoulders and glowering down at 
 Rennoske. 
 
 "Ruffle not thy neck, gamecock," the boy replied, 
 giving back deadly look for deadly look. "Thou 
 hast hidden the girl in the ship and seek to fool me 
 with cries and lamentations. Where is the maid? 
 Tell me, lest I strangle the truth from thy lips!" 
 
 "Call me trickster upon the decks of mine own 
 ship, puppy?" Osaki raved. "Threaten no threats 
 that cannot be carried out. It is more of your doing 
 to tell the girl to meet you in some secret place you 
 both have appointed for her shame and for mine. 
 Yet shall I follow you. Drop the anchor there! 
 Haul down the sail ! The girl is mine by oath 
 mine shall she be. Maid-thieving outcast, where 
 is Kiku San?" 
 
 Words and the effect of words went to the winds. 
 With a snarl and a leap, seal-hunter and farmer's son 
 were at each other's throats. There was murder in 
 their hearts.
 
 i 3 o THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Who calls the name of Kiku San?" 
 
 Rennoske and Osaki, at the sound of the gentle 
 voice, let go their hold and, panting, wheeled quickly. 
 Standing demurely before them was Kiku. 
 
 "Where wert thou, maiden?" asked Osaki, the 
 first to find his voice. 
 
 "In the depths of thy good ship, my lord and 
 master that is to be," she replied, a quaver in her 
 voice. 
 
 "And wherefore?" snapped Rennoske suspi- 
 ciously. "Art thou so shameless as to stay on 
 board unbidden?" 
 
 "The puppy presumes," Osaki sneered. "I deal 
 with the girl, boy." 
 
 "Fret me no more," the lad answered, his choler 
 rising again. "Enough have I stood of thy " 
 
 "Nay, brother," Kiku broke in upon him. "I 
 did but pray to Idzumo for a safe voyage and a 
 quick return for my betrothed." 
 
 Neither traced the lie in her voice. 
 
 "See, boy," said he. "This is what comes of 
 boasting in the ways of women. How think you 
 now of your 'She would have no man but me'? 
 Ho, ho!" 
 
 Rennoske turned to hide his blush of shame and 
 walked toward the gangplank. 
 
 "A thousand bows of my head in parting," he 
 heard Osaki say. "A thousand thoughts shall be
 
 SIGHT OF AN UGLY FACE 131 
 
 of thee till my eyes are blessed by a sight of thee 
 again, O Kiku San." 
 
 "A thousand winds blow you through pleasant 
 seas," answered the girl. "A thousand years shall 
 it seem till you return again to me, Osaki." 
 
 Rennoske felt her sleeve brush his arm and knew 
 she waited for him to lead the way. 
 
 For a parting shot he turned and glowered at 
 the seal-hunter, who answered the challenge with 
 white-toothed leer. Then he walked down the 
 gangplank, Kiku's feet pattering after him. 
 
 On the full tide, the vessel soon drifted out on 
 the sparkling water; slowly the great square sail 
 rose and spread against the sun. Then, as it caught 
 the wind, the junk turned awkwardly, showing her 
 high, galleonlike stern. Soon she dwindled into 
 a speck of black on the golden sea. 
 
 The boy stood watching her, his brain full of 
 pictures, painted in brilliant hues by his imagination, 
 of storms, typhoons, distant lands and wild beasts 
 to conquer. 
 
 A sound from Kiku made him turn toward her. 
 She was chuckling and laughing to herself, her tiny 
 straw-sandaled feet beating a tattoo on the shining 
 sand as if she danced with glee. 
 
 "Kiku, Kiku!" the boy called. "Thou art 
 glad Osaki has left? Glad that thou canst be with 
 me?"
 
 132 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Her laughter stopped short. She turned a pale, 
 frightened face to him. 
 
 "Nay, nay," she faltered. "I am not glad 
 Inari bear me witness, I am not glad." And she 
 fell to sobbing. 
 
 "Then thou grievest for Osaki," he went on, his 
 own tone of anxiety changing at her negative reply 
 to a question to which he had expected another and 
 better answer. "Ships go and come. He will 
 return if that is what thou grievest for." 
 
 "Nay, nay, nay!" she answered, laughing now. 
 "He will never return. It is thus that I prayed!" 
 And she wept again. 
 
 Fording streams was play, swimming races with 
 sailors nothing to brag of, fencing with bamboo 
 poles a joke compared with this! He shouldered 
 the box and turned his face to the mountains, won- 
 dering again upon the strange ways of women. 
 
 The boys had gone from their game as they passed 
 the beach. The cormorants slept, as did their 
 masters, tired from their night of toil. All was 
 silent in the hot afternoon sun that beat down yellow 
 on sand, marsh, thatch, and bamboo. 
 
 Rennoske trudged ahead while Kiku toddled 
 behind, both as silent as the sleepy land and sea. 
 
 Again they trod the white, sandy road through 
 the cattails of the salt marsh. Rennoske's head 
 was bent by the load, his eyes on the ground.
 
 SIGHT OF AN UGLY FACE 133 
 
 Suddenly the pitter-patter of feet ahead of him 
 made him look up. Down the road came a cloud of 
 dust. 
 
 Out of it soon appeared six coolies, naked but for 
 their loin cloths and white band about the forehead, 
 running at top speed. Between the first and the 
 last three, for they ran abreast, swayed a rickety 
 palanquin. The boy stopped to look as the vehicle 
 pattered by. 
 
 A man sat in it leaning far out, or rather half a 
 man, for the creature was but three feet high. The 
 face had all the animalism of an ape's, the lower lip 
 protruded as he squealed and grunted to the coolies 
 to go faster. 
 
 But a single glance had Rennoske of the deformed 
 creature. That, it seemed, was enough. He dropped 
 the box, screamed in terror, and ran down the road 
 as though a tiger were after him. 
 
 The dwarf, too, turned, saw him, then frantically 
 waved his long hairy arms and screamed for the men 
 to stop. They, thinking it but a command to go 
 faster, puffed and panted and ran on. 
 
 Rennoske, head erect, mouth open, hands clenched, 
 ran along the road sending the dust flying behind 
 him. He darted into the woods, stumbling and 
 slipping through the bog-land. 
 
 At length, winded and worn out, he fell in a heap 
 by the swollen stream he had crossed that morning.
 
 i 3 4 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 There, dragging the box after her, a half-hour later, 
 Kiku found him. 
 
 "Little Warrior," she called, stooping over and 
 touching him on the shoulder, "why did you fly 
 from me? There was naught in the litter but an 
 ugly dwarf. Little Warrior come he follows 
 not." 
 
 He opened his eyes and looked at her. There it 
 was the blank, stupid stare. The sickness had 
 claimed him again. 
 
 There was no light of recognition in his eyes. It 
 was here, but a few hours ago, he had forded the 
 rushing stream yes, here he had caught her in 
 his strong arms as she fell. Swooned? Not she! 
 She had heard every word of his glorious challenge 
 to Osaki above the water that bubbled so close to 
 her. 
 
 Why should Osaki know? Go with him in the 
 stream? Aye, if it led to the seventh hell! Here 
 he was, this man who had snatched her from death 
 and unselfishly handed her back to his rival. Here 
 was the man for her here was a chance to help 
 him as he had her. 
 
 Gently she bade him rise, he obeyed her. Gently 
 she led him over the span and came back again for 
 the box. Gently she led him home again. 
 
 When they reached their dwelling, Miyoshi sat 
 upon the doorstep, his head bowed in his hands.
 
 SIGHT OF AN UGLY FACE 135 
 
 "Here are the presents, O my father," said the 
 girl, quickly putting down the box beside him. 
 
 "Aye, and we will need them, girl," the farmer 
 answered. "The soldiers of the Matsuyama have 
 been here. All my rice from last year's harvest 
 have they taken all all. Thy mother gods! 
 she sought to hide from them the yen she had saved, 
 and one, discovering them, struck her upon the 
 mouth with his mailed fist. To Takenaka they 
 went. Inari help the village when those black dogs 
 have finished with it! What thinkest thou of that, 
 my son?" 
 
 But a stupid stare was the only answer of Ren- 
 noske. Miyoshi the Farmer was not the only one 
 who suffered at the hands of the house of the 
 Mountain of Pines.
 
 Chapter XII 
 Black Armor Seen in the Sunset 
 
 THE cherry blossoms had died long since, 
 the wistaria faded. Now bloomed the 
 chrysanthemum in clear-skied November. 
 With a blaze of red and gold the maples dropped 
 their leaves, and November died. 
 
 The pines shone a brighter green against the snow 
 that fell now and then in December and January. 
 In February came the plum blossoms, and the 
 nightingale's song in March. It was almost time 
 for the cherry blossoms to show their pink once 
 more. 
 
 The winter in that tiny thatched cottage on 
 the plateau had been a long and a hard one. The 
 charcoal braziers were low, so the four inmates felt 
 keenly the damp cold. 
 
 Food was scarce and coarse, for the last raid of 
 the Matsuyama had taken nearly all. The cold 
 settled in Miyoshi's bones, making his limp more 
 pronounced, while an ugly scar disfigured his wife's 
 lip, spoiling a quiet prettiness. 
 
 As for Rennoske himself, he never grumbled or
 
 ARMOR SEEN IN THE SUNSET* 137 
 
 complained, though there was a smoldering some- 
 thing within his breast that made him afraid of 
 himself o' nights. The sufferings of his foster- 
 father was enough to bear; his own, nothing. 
 
 It was the sight of the thin, peaked Kiku that 
 made his blood boil. For him, manhood was close 
 at hand, if not present. He was twenty leaner 
 than before, it was true; but, with the lack of food 
 and the excess of exercise, his rippling muscles had 
 taken on a certain wiriness, while the hollows of 
 his cheeks set off a firmer push to his jaw. 
 
 The cold had a good effect on him in one way, 
 for the winter went by without a return of his malady. 
 In the early dawn awakenings the longing for the 
 sword came often, yet it was no longer on Osaki 
 that he wished to use it, rather against the hated 
 black of the Matsuyama who had lamed his father, 
 scarred his mother, caused many a yearning in his 
 own stomach, and made the chrysanthemum of his 
 heart, his "gentlest flower," thin, sad, and pale. 
 Yet, perhaps, the hatred was instinctive as well. 
 
 When the spring rains began oxen were borrowed 
 from their neighbor up the mountain, Yatara, and 
 with the help of some others the ground was plowed. 
 The two cherry trees outside the house were a mass 
 of pink, yet no word came from Boruku of the 
 arrival of the Maya Maru. 
 
 At length, on the day of the Boys' Festival in
 
 138 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 May, Miyoshi donned his new haori over his sea- 
 green kimono, the gifts of Osaki, and, taking a stout 
 staff, announced his intention of walking to the 
 village in question. Rennoske and Kiku were per- 
 mitted to go to the archery contest to be held on 
 the lawn at Takenaka, so the lad started off, the 
 girl trotting beside him. 
 
 "Think, gentlest flower," said he, as they trod 
 the path, "there will be fish-kites flying from great 
 poles, fish-kites high in the air to signify that this 
 day the carp begins its swim up-stream, and the 
 boy his battle of life. Hei and the arrow-shoot- 
 ing! Will it not be a brave sight for thine eyes?" 
 
 But Kiku answered nothing; whereupon Rennoske 
 wondered for the thousandth time upon the strange 
 ways of women. He soon forgot his puzzle by taking 
 one of the three stout bamboo poles he held under 
 his arm and whirling it in the air. At the archery 
 contest there might be one who thought he could 
 use a sword. It was best to be prepared. 
 
 Long before they came to the green they saw the 
 kites, high above the trees, swirling and floating 
 in the soft spring air, turning now to this side, now 
 to that, soaring and gyrating. 
 
 Of all sizes they were, mostly in the shape of 
 fantastic fish, colored red and orange, blue and green, 
 the scales traced in black. From where they stood 
 in a little green hollow it looked as if they had found
 
 ARMOR SEEN IN THE SUNSET 139 
 
 themselves under a blue aquarium or that the fish 
 had suddenly taken to the sky instead of the sea. 
 A steady buzz of voices was borne to them on the 
 breeze. 
 
 Gradually the maples, pines, and cedars thinned, 
 and they came out upon the green. Such a sight! 
 The lawn was diamond-shape; the point opposite 
 to where they stood sloped upward, where the 
 huddled brown of the houses showed where the 
 village stood. They had seen the kites they 
 now saw those who held them. 
 
 There were boys by twos, boys by dozens, boys 
 by the score. Some stood still, holding their strings 
 and looking with ecstatic faces at their floating toys. 
 Others ran up and down, pulling, twisting, turning 
 round suddenly, dragging the kites after them, while 
 the smaller boys, with still smaller brothers and 
 sisters strapped squalling to their backs, ran up and 
 down after their grown and privileged brethren, 
 shouting and squealing with glee. 
 
 "Over there is the greater crowd," cried Rennoske, 
 pointing to a long lane of many colored kimonos 
 near a grove. "Come, Kiku, the shooting should 
 be there." 
 
 And, never noticing whether she followed or not, 
 he plodded through the grass, his cheeks burning 
 with the fever of excitement. 
 
 He almost tripped over three tiny lads, their
 
 i 4 o THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 heads shaven but for a bristling ring of hair on the 
 top, squatting cross-legged on the ground. 
 
 "Nan-kem-po!" squeaked little fellow number 
 one. 
 
 "Nan-kem-po!" repeated two little fellows num- 
 bers two and three. 
 
 They stuck out their hands from behind their 
 backs. Little fellow number one held his fist tight, 
 while the other two showed two fingers. Hei! 
 Stone beats scissors! Little fellow number one 
 screamed with joy. 
 
 "Nan-kem-po!" Rennoske heard it behind him 
 again, but ran on. A long shout from the throng 
 quickened his steps. There should be something 
 strange and wonderful here surely. 
 
 Broad shoulders barred his way on the edge of 
 the crowd. He nosed about until he found an 
 opening, or, rather, what was as good as one, for 
 finding one little old fellow looking on, the lad 
 looked on himself over a shiny and wrinkled bald 
 head. 
 
 The lane or alley was flanked right and left by 
 myriad yellow faces, grinning faces, smiling faces. 
 The pinched cheeks of them were lost in the holiday 
 glow, yet the sparkling eyes were in hollow sockets 
 like his own. 
 
 The hard winter had affected more than the 
 inmates of Miyoshi's cottage as these signs plainly
 
 ARMOR SEEN IN THE SUNSET 141 
 
 told. Starvation revealed itself in here a flapping 
 kimono, there a tightly drawn sash. 
 
 But hei! this was a holiday in good sooth. Little 
 sons, nephews, and grandsons shot for the prize. 
 Give your peasant a fine day, a soft spring breeze, 
 a crowd of his fellows straw-grasping at an atom of 
 pleasure like himself, and he will forget his days 
 and nights of gnawing hunger and bone-throbbing 
 cold. 
 
 At the end of this lane, about a hundred feet from 
 where Rennoske craned his neck, three round targets 
 of straw stood against two knotty oaks, one above 
 the other. The boys came in turn with their bows 
 and arrows, and shot. As they hit or flew wide of 
 the mark, a man at the far end looked and called 
 back, "Zoru, son of Bashuda, hath made ten and 
 ten and four." 
 
 The markers jotted it down, and another lad shot, 
 and so on. Rennoske understood little of the 
 rivalry or the score. But it was blood-stirring to 
 watch the arrows skim through the air, so he watched 
 on, content to listen to cries of encouragement and 
 the boys' squeals. 
 
 It was Gentaro, son of the wagoner, who started 
 all the trouble. Coming up behind Rennoske he 
 playfully pulled one of the bamboo poles from under 
 his arm. Equally as playfully he made to strike 
 him across the shins. Gentaro received a thwack
 
 i 4 2 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 over the head for his pains and had the pole knocked 
 flying from his hand. 
 
 Now, it seems that there was an old soldier in 
 the chattering, yellow-faced crowd, one O Kina, who 
 had served in the Yezo war against the Ainu. 
 
 "Where learned thou that up-cut, young man?" 
 he squeaked, his face close to Rennoske's. 
 
 "In truth, reverend sir," Rennoske answered, 
 "I recall neither my parentage nor my boyhood. 
 Yet this comes to me as easy as sleeping." 
 
 The old man puckered up his scarred nose. 
 
 "It looks like a Shikoku training to me," he went 
 on. "I'll warrant my own Kiyushu slicing will 
 break down thy guard, young man. Wouldst try 
 a round with me?" 
 
 "So," answered Rennoske, "I will try willingly, 
 if thy gray hairs can stand the heat of the exercise, 
 for I move swiftly, reverend sir." 
 
 "So, thou art a confident cub," said the soldier, 
 rolling up his sleeve. "Remember my arm has seen 
 many years of service. Look to thine own pate." 
 
 "I look," cried Rennoske, and their sticks met. 
 
 Soon the click-clack of the bamboo reached many 
 ears, and it was not long before a ring of smiling 
 faces shone above a bank of holiday kimonos. Ren- 
 noske found that the arm that had seen many years 
 of service was indeed a worthy one; but youth was 
 on the side of the Shikoku up-cut. The old man was
 
 ARMOR SEEN TN THE SUNSET 143 
 
 disarmed, respect for his gray hairs saving him many 
 a sharp rap on the head they covered. 
 
 Grave faces nodded approvingly. There were 
 whispers of, "Who is the sturdy lad?" from those 
 who had come from afar for the holiday. 
 
 Those of the neighborhood told, adding the usual: 
 "Where learned the son of Miyoshi the Farmer the 
 art of sword-play?" 
 
 Coaxed and shamed by ambitious fathers and 
 brothers, many other lads tried their hand. They 
 met the fate of the sailors of the Maya Maru at 
 Rennoske's hands, even two and three to one. 
 
 If the joy of victory had raised high Rennoske's 
 spirits upon the sands of Boruku, it now made 
 him drunken, thumping in his breast and rushing 
 madly to his temples. The hereditary lust of battle 
 overpowered all else, and he cried aloud: 
 
 "Children of the Rising Sun, why stand ye here 
 idle while the soldiers of the hated Matsuyama rob 
 ye of your hard-earned rice?" 
 
 His own words frightened him. They seemed 
 to be put into his mouth by some unseen spirit. 
 
 "What use is the bow and arrow to your children 
 unless the shafts go straight into the hearts of these 
 accursed warriors ? Rise up, children of the Mikado ! 
 Rise up and overthrow the Daimyo Kuroki Obuto! 
 Let a wiser ruler reign in his stead. What say you, 
 sturdy men and boys of Old Nippon ? "
 
 144 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Now, here was talk to set heads a-wagging! Old 
 men gasped; horny-handed farmers whispered, 
 "Men have been beheaded for far less than this." 
 There were loud cries of "Treason!" and "He is a 
 madman!" Yet these were answered by the sullen 
 guttural murmur of the younger men. One fresh- 
 faced farmer's son even cried out: 
 
 "There should be more of this talk, boy!" 
 
 "Thou hast the head of a sage on thy broad 
 young shoulders," said another. 
 
 Whereupon their elders silenced them with threats. 
 Yet the seed was sown. Nothing else was talked 
 of from then on but the indignities all had suffered 
 at the hands of the Matsuyama. 
 
 The great kites in the shape of carp were forgotten; 
 the children ran free. The young men crowded 
 about Rennoske, talking and expostulating in fiery 
 words. Ever to feed the flame, the old soldier took 
 up the talk of rebellion. He would train them and 
 the young warrior of the bamboo poles should be 
 their leader. 
 
 In vain did the old men shake their heads. The 
 day was but a hubbub of angry voices. The seed 
 was sown. 
 
 Here a bronzed fisher slapped his calloused palm 
 with a clenched fist. "Who were the Matsuyama 
 indeed but usurpers?" he demanded in a loud 
 voice. "What chance had honest fisher folk when
 
 ARMOR SEEN IN THE SUNSET 145 
 
 they were taxed nine and eighty yen a year to keep 
 the Black Boar in drunkenness?" 
 
 "Nine and eighty?" piped the wagoner. "From 
 me they take a hundred and ten. What with such 
 little frost and less rain, it has been three years since 
 that much I even made. Is it just that a man shall 
 save his neck by giving up the money come to him 
 in his wife's dowry ? Rebellion ? There is cause 
 for regicide, my brethren!" 
 
 "There was a time," a woodman chimed in, "when 
 we folk worked but till sunset. Now we must e'en 
 labor after dark, winter and summer. Fifty logs 
 of perfect pine must be given and hauled by every 
 man Aye, and my son reaching eighteen and I 
 muster his help hei! He is a man, too, in the 
 Matsuyama's eyes, and there shall be fifty more, 
 for the Black Boar builds palaces, the Black Boar 
 builds strongholds and godowns for his stolen rice, 
 and we must pay for it. We, the Children of the 
 Ax, chop down trees for him to build palaces for 
 his geisha." 
 
 Set fire to paper and there will be always wind 
 to fan it. Hurl a stone ever so carelessly at a bee- 
 hive and it will hit to set the swarm a-stinging. 
 
 The recital of woes and the talk of wrongs had but 
 filtered through that mob of shouting and expostu- 
 lating peasants, when a cry rose from them and 
 many faces were turned toward the village.
 
 146 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "See the Matsuyama are upon us now!" 
 
 A hush spread over all and all eyes were turned 
 toward the break between the trees where the path 
 leading to the huddled houses began. 
 
 From out of it a bare-legged man ran, or rather 
 he staggered, swerving from this side to that, his 
 arms over his chest, the hands tearing at a black 
 thing that stuck there. Clanking clumsily after 
 him, came four soldiers, each with a drawn sword. 
 The setting sun lit up shiny patches of their 
 armor of black, giving them a bloodlike sheen that 
 struck terror in the hearts of the holiday makers. 
 
 On came the man, blinded by blood and terror. 
 He crashed into a boy who had not been quick 
 enough to get out of his way. The boy screamed 
 so did the man, staggering still more, he rushed head- 
 long into the now babbling crowd. 
 
 A few feet from where Rennoske stood, the man 
 threw out his arms, whirled, while his ankles gave 
 way under him, and then fell prone on his back. 
 The boy had seen the black thing that stuck bloody 
 in his breast it was a long arrow, the point lost 
 in the torn folds of his short kimono. 
 
 Yet before Rennoske or any of the peasants could 
 reach him, the first soldier was upon him and thrust 
 the point of the long sword deep into his bared 
 throat as he lay. 
 
 A shrill cry of anger rose up from the throng at
 
 ARMOR SEEN IN THE SUNSET 147 
 
 the sheer brutality of the thing. A sickening shiver 
 ran through Rennoske's frame at this, his first sight 
 of human blood. He stood rooted to the spot, 
 unable to move. 
 
 "Hold back our father," a shrill voice rang out. 
 "They have slain his first-born. Hold him back, 
 brothers. Let us deal with these black butchers!" 
 
 Into the ring formed about the body by the bank 
 of kimonos, a young man sprang. Rennoske saw 
 that he was but twenty-odd, attired as was the 
 dead man. Following closely after came four more, 
 all brothers they looked, with a little over a year of 
 difference in the ages of each. 
 
 "The sons of the Tapper of Laquer Trees," 
 Rennoske heard some one say close to him. "Brave 
 lads and sturdy. There shall be more blood spilt 
 here." 
 
 "Men of Takenaka," the soldiers shouted, "thus 
 do ye see what comes of disobedience to your 
 Daimyo. Stand back there, cub!" he growled to 
 one of the boys who had come quite near. "Would 
 you have some of the same sauce?" 
 
 "Demon-sent swine!" growled the boy, shaking 
 his fist. "At them, brothers bear them down!" 
 
 He rushed, followed by the other four. A sweep 
 of the soldier's sword knicked him in the wrist, 
 sending the blood spouting, while one of his brothers 
 fell with a long gash in the thigh.
 
 148 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Stand back, rebellious dogs!" cried the soldier 
 while the other three armored men closed about him, 
 all standing back to back. With the long sword 
 they swung from right to left with the full swing of 
 their arm while the other arm, holding the shorter 
 sword, swept in the opposite direction. This wind- 
 mill of sharp steel slowly crept forward, while the 
 peasants fell back in silence. 
 
 "Hath no one the courage of a cat?" roared a 
 voice. 
 
 A man of fifty stumbled forward, dragging with 
 him three more boys, who sought to hold him back. 
 His broad shoulders twisted to shake off the six 
 arms that sought to stay him. 
 
 Father struggled with sons, who tried what they 
 had failed to do. Still the four soldiers moved 
 steadily forward, the steel glistening pink ever 
 backward moved the crowd. 
 
 Whoever told Rennoske what to do what it 
 was that prompted him he never could tell. He 
 remembered hearing of the trick of the flying wedge 
 of swords. He remembered how one had told him 
 how it was defeated. He knew how what mat- 
 tered who the teller was ? 
 
 He stood his ground until the soldiers and their 
 shining ring were within a yard of him, then, like 
 a man plunging into the water, he dived head first 
 for their ankles. He felt the cold steel of the shin-
 
 ARMOR SEEN IN THE SUNSET 149 
 
 plates in his hands the instant his feet touched the 
 ground. 
 
 A sudden jerk and the bewildered face of the 
 soldier lay under him. It was the work of a second 
 to catch the wrist that held the short sword and 
 force the point of it into the lacings of the gorget. 
 The black-armored soldier of the Matsuyama lay 
 squirming on the ground swordless and with a 
 neatly severed jugular vein before he had time to 
 look upon the face of his assailant. 
 
 The long sword in his right hand, Rennoske rose 
 to face another soldier on one knee, for his trick had 
 sent all four sprawling. The man jumped up and 
 crossed blades with him, expecting but little trouble 
 from a peasant with a long sword. He swung for 
 Rennoske's head, had the blow parried, and got a 
 wound in the shoulder for his pains. He tried a 
 cut for the legs to find that parried, too. He was 
 wondering how Shikoku training was to be found 
 thus on Takenaka green, fighting like a wildcat the 
 while. 
 
 He let out a yell on recognizing the face of his 
 deposed Daimyo, and in the next instant, recognized 
 nothing at all, for the top of his own helmet pierced 
 sharply through his skull from a full-armed swing of 
 a good sword, and he knew neither houses of Matsu- 
 yama nor Ackagawa, armed peasants, nor Shikoku 
 training.
 
 i5o THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Rennoske, now in that state of madness made 
 possible by easily earned victory, saw another sword 
 out of the corner of his eye, made a back-hand swing 
 at it, and sent it flying through the air. He drew 
 back his own blade to let the owner have the 
 benefit of its point; but paused in time. The man 
 that faced him was unarmed and unarmored, one 
 of the boys who had so interested him before the 
 fray. 
 
 "Who art thou," cried the boy, staring, "that 
 thou shouldst risk thy life in a quarrel that is mine 
 and my brothers'?" 
 
 "They call me Little Warrior, son of the Farmer 
 of the Three Wells," answered Rennoske, smiling. 
 "I risked but little the trick is simple enough 
 when one knows." 
 
 "And where learned you the use of the sword?" 
 asked another of the brothers, coming up. 
 
 "That I know not," answered Rennoske, smiling 
 still. "Wouldst try thy hand? I am ready, sword 
 or pole, in play or to the death." 
 
 "Gods about us nay!" the second brother 
 replied, making a wry face. "My first brother lies 
 dead, my fifth and seventh wounded. There would 
 be more in the spirit land but for thee. Should we 
 now turn quarrelsome for naught? It is enough 
 that our heads will tumble if this come to the Black 
 Boar's ears."
 
 ARMOR SEEN IN THE SUNSET 151 
 
 And he pointed to the four armored men stretched 
 grotesquely upon the now red grass. "Aye, and 
 thy head, too, Little Warrior." 
 
 "Who hath finished the other two?" Rennoske 
 queried, his fingers fitting familiarly about the hilt 
 of his sword. 
 
 "We five lads here," answered the first bare-legged 
 lad. "That was but an easy matter after thou 
 hadst shown us the ankle trick. See, our father 
 comes to speak with thee." 
 
 The Tapper of Laquer Trees advanced upon 
 Rennoske with quiet dignity. He bowed profoundly, 
 his broad shoulders almost touching the grass. He 
 rose again and spoke solemnly: 
 
 "Little Warrior, this day lost I one of my eight 
 sons at the hands of the Matsuyama. Well might I 
 have lost more but for thee and thy courage. Con- 
 sider, therefore, from henceforth, my seven remaining 
 sons ever at thy service. Many offered sympathy, 
 many pitied; but none helped. This day a man hath 
 come among us." 
 
 "Reverend sir," Rennoske replied boyishly, "it is 
 with difficulty I seem to answer questions concern- 
 ing myself. It is hard for me to see into myself with 
 clearness. Know, then, that a certain hatred for the 
 armor these men wore fired my sudden fury more 
 than the cause of thee and thy sons. 
 
 "Many words had I spoken this day, fraught with
 
 152 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 wild and boastful saying. It was but meet that I do 
 that which would make me not a braggart in the 
 eyes of the good people of Takenaka. But four of 
 the black-armored knights showed themselves this 
 day among us. When more come and I vanquish 
 them, then shall it be time for praise." 
 
 In the gathering darkness the Tapper of Laquer 
 Trees turned his head slowly to the right, to the left, 
 then behind him. He seemed satisfied that no one 
 overheard, yet he whispered the words: 
 
 " By yonder oaks where stood the targets, O Kina 
 and many other brave hearts meet to talk of these 
 grave things. Join us with the coming of the stars. 
 Move warily through the crowd there may be 
 spies. Thou comprehendest?" 
 
 Rennoske nodded and turned upon his heel. Most 
 of the crowd had gone to their homes in silence, 
 most of them with frightened hearts, for the slaying 
 of four Samurai presaged more blood and persecution 
 to come. 
 
 The kites were down, the children tucked in their 
 beds. Yet there were many who stayed about 
 in little groups, discussing the terrible events of 
 the day. 
 
 As Rennoske swaggered unconsciously in and out 
 among them, there was ever a nudge to a neighbor 
 and a whispered, "There is the brave lad," and an 
 answering, "'Tis a pity one so young should risk
 
 ARMOR SEEN IN THE SUNSET 153 
 
 his head. The Matsuyama will seek him out for 
 this." 
 
 "Aye," another would whisper, "the Matsuyama 
 are strong and terrible in the land." 
 
 Some of this the lad heard, some he did not; but 
 none of it moved him. A great joy rilled every inch 
 of him. He had a sword, a sharp sword that he 
 had used and found a friend. He strolled along, 
 sticking the point of it into the ground as he 
 walked, thinking brave thoughts and slaying many 
 unseen enemies. 
 
 He walked to the shade of a maple and looked out 
 over the lawn, now covered by the first soft blue 
 shades of night. There were but a few straggling 
 figures upon it and they slowly wended their way 
 toward the village. He looked up through the leafy 
 network above his head. The stars were coming 
 out. 
 
 They sat in a ring by the two oaks, fifty or sixty 
 men. He recognized O Kina, the old soldier, who 
 was talking now in his cracked voice, telling them 
 how easily a rebellion would be started, and, like a 
 stone rolling down the snow-covered side of a moun- 
 tain, would gather as it went. 
 
 The Tapper of Laquer Trees was there with his 
 seven sons. Between him and them Rennoske sat. 
 The talk was of great interest to him. The recital 
 of the many wrongs stirred his blood. The plans
 
 154 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 of deeds to do he drank in like a thirsty man at a 
 well. 
 
 He was interested, keenly interested. So much 
 so that he did not feel a gentle tug at his kimono 
 sleeve. Often it came, then it stopped, and a sigh 
 went with the stopping. It was Kiku San. 
 
 She heard the angry words, the grumblings of 
 hate, the vows of vengeance. She saw the sparkle 
 of eyes in the starlight. Was it not her Little 
 Warrior's eyes that gleamed the brightest? 
 
 The purport of their words meant but little to 
 her. She knew that it was late, and she was 
 cold; knew that she was forgotten, too. She tucked 
 her tiny arms under her sleeves, snuggled her chin 
 into the collar of her kimono, and trotted home 
 alone. 
 
 It was quite late when Rennoske arrived at the 
 shoji upon the tiny plateau, with its three stone wells 
 and the two cherry trees before it. He had hid his 
 sword under a shelving rock on the way to the vil- 
 lage, and covered it over by a heap of brushwood. 
 He was surprised to see Miyoshi sitting by the 
 doorstep, a shoji wall slid back behind him. 
 
 "Fine holiday-making have we here," Miyoshi 
 cried, jumping to his feet at sight of his foster-son. 
 "Prowling round o' nights hei! Art studying 
 the ways of bandits, boy? So, take this for thy 
 nonsense."
 
 ARMOR SEEN IN THE SUNSET 155 
 
 And the farmer thwacked him soundly over the 
 legs with a cudgel. 
 
 Rennoske jumped and dodged past the old man, 
 laughing the while. A stream of "hulking boy!" 
 and "lazy swine!" and "presuming puppy!" poured 
 from the old man's lips as he limped about after 
 the ever-dodging boy, his stick missing a score of 
 times. 
 
 "Where wert thou lagging and what didst thou do 
 at this hour?" 
 
 "You should embrace me instead of whipping," 
 answered Rennoske brassily. "This day have I 
 slain two Matsuyama swordsmen single-handed." 
 
 The farmer raised his hands above his head in 
 comic supplication. 
 
 "The gods bear witness," he moaned, "if the boy 
 hath not lost what little sense he had. Slain two 
 of the Matsuyama he says hei! The moonbeams 
 are in his head. The flowers of the night make him 
 dream. 
 
 "First, Osaki comes not; now my son is crazed. 
 What have I done that such wo comes upon me? 
 Slain two of the Matsuyama indeed! To bed, 
 hulking lad, and sleep off thy moon-drunkenness. 
 Hei! he hath a fox! Hei! the boy is daft!" 
 
 Miyoshi howled while Rennoske slid back the 
 shoji wall of his compartment, rolled himself in his 
 bedding, and was soon fast asleep.
 
 i 5 6 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Slain the Matsuyama!" Miyoshi kept on 
 bawling. "Slain the Matsuyama!" 
 
 But Kiku San heard, and knew who spoke the 
 truth. High on his pedestal climbed her hero, 
 while Osaki faded away.
 
 Chapter XIII 
 A Rolling Stone of Hate 
 
 KIKU SAN was blessed with three things 
 beauty, youth, and an overwhelming love. 
 Balancing the scale, she was cursed with 
 three, or so she considered them a conscience, a 
 keen ear, and a heart-burning faculty of borrowing 
 trouble. The second curse was subservient to the 
 first, for the conscience keeping her awake at night, 
 the keen ear heard things. From both she borrowed 
 the trouble. 
 
 What was on her conscience shall appear here- 
 after; what she heard shall be learned now. 
 
 She lay awake one night, about a week after the 
 holiday and the fray. The conscience was giving 
 her a terrible battle, a battle that called for a sacri- 
 fice of her life perhaps. The one side said to keep 
 quiet about the thing, the other bade her tell all. 
 
 She was just coming to a compromise, which 
 included the telling of the thing to the one in the 
 compartment of paper next her, when she heard that 
 some one move. She had not lived under this roof 
 with her Little Warrior for all these years without
 
 158 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 learning that he slept like a log. Why, then, this 
 scraping? 
 
 She heard a dull thud, that must be his knee on 
 the floor. She next distinguished the scrape of 
 straw on straw. That told her plainly that he was 
 putting on his sandals. Ominous other noises told 
 her that he was dressing himself, and, worst of all, 
 she heard the frame creak and slide back. 
 
 She knew that the paper to right of her led to the 
 rear of the house, the one to the left to Rennoske's 
 room, the one at her head was where her father lay, 
 and the one at the foot of her bedding opened on to 
 the side of the house facing the path to the rice 
 fields. 
 
 She more than heard; she saw this wall slide back 
 a little. There was enough light for her to see the 
 doubling of the paper. A slight creak and it slid 
 back again. She heard a soft step in the grass, 
 several other hurried ones farther away then 
 silence. 
 
 Sitting bolt upright in bed, her trouble-borrowing 
 sense made her wonder what was to be done about 
 this. Her Little Warrior had risen up in the night 
 and dressed himself, sneaked out of the house, and 
 gone in the direction of Takenaka. 
 
 What should she do wake and tell her father? 
 That might make the boy angry when he returned. 
 Would he return, or was he gone for good, tired of
 
 A ROLLING STONE OF HATE 159 
 
 this narrow farm life? He was young and strong, 
 and the world was wide. He had nothing there but 
 labor in the rice fields and charcoal burning in the 
 evening. How could she expect to keep him there, 
 this great godlike boy? 
 
 It was some time since he told her of his love; 
 never since he knew she was the betrothed of Osaki. 
 Had he indeed gone forever out of her life? The 
 thing on her conscience cried double shame, for it 
 was for him that she had done it. 
 
 Kiku San spent that night shivering under the 
 coverlet, her ears alert, yet hoping against hope for 
 the returning footstep. There was trouble enough 
 without her borrowing it now. 
 
 Still the thing on her conscience fought on. In 
 the silence of the night she made a vow to the gods 
 that if he would but return to her she would tell 
 him all and take what came of it without a murmur. 
 
 At the fiftieth repetition of her prayer she was 
 rewarded by a soft rustling in the grass outside the 
 shoji. Yes, the paper moved back as before; there 
 were the same scrapings in the room next hers. 
 
 Inari and all the gods be praised! She heard 
 distinctly through the thin paper walls that separated 
 them the soft, steady breathing of her Little Warrior. 
 She fell asleep herself, content. 
 
 She was a clumsy girl in the rice fields that next 
 morning. Often her father reproved her. The
 
 160 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 whole four worked among the green stalks, for this 
 was transplanting time. The farmer found occa- 
 sion to prod Rennoske, too; the boy seemed unable 
 to keep his eyes open. Hei what was wrong 
 with these two laggards? 
 
 Rennoske's fault was plainly from lack of sleep, 
 while the girl developed a certain shyness whenever 
 she looked at her foster-brother. She was glad when 
 the day was over, gladder because she had no chance 
 to speak to him. 
 
 That night she heard him sneak out and come back 
 again. This state of affairs continued for a week. 
 At the end of this time the girl was having another 
 sleepless conscience-battle that continued far into 
 the night. She heard the boy's steady breathing 
 close to her and knew he slept soundly. 
 
 A sound, oft repeated, found its way into her 
 semiconsciousness. It was the hooting of an owl. 
 It seemed strange to her that the bird should come 
 so near the house. They stayed, she knew, higher 
 up upon the mountains. 
 
 Louder it grew with every moment, until it seemed 
 outside the shoji. She heard Rennoske stir uneasily, 
 followed by the usual scrapings; and after these the 
 frame slid back at her feet. Moving as silently as 
 she could, she crept along the matting, and when 
 the shoji wall slid back again she opened her own a 
 tiny crack.
 
 A ROLLING STONE OF HATE 161 
 
 Outside the moonlight streamed on grass, well, 
 and tree. She could see nothing at first but the 
 creeping boy, who was by this time about thirty feet 
 from the house. On all fours he went, slowly and 
 stealthily. 
 
 The owl hoot sounded again. She heard an 
 answer. Then from the grass, behind the trees out 
 of the very earth, it seemed, men sprang up. She 
 saw that one or two had swords; but the arms most 
 of them carried were spears made of long poles with 
 knives lashed to the end, while three or four had 
 broadaxes. 
 
 They saw Rennoske making his way toward them, 
 so they turned, waving him to follow on. Kiku 
 watched them steal along in single file, the moon- 
 light making odd black shadows on the ground 
 behind them. Soon she saw Rennoske again. He 
 was coming after them at a dog-trot. As he turned 
 the corner there by the boulder something he held 
 gleamed in the silver light, gleamed brightly. Kiku 
 saw that it was a long sword. 
 
 She hid her head beneath the coverlet to drown 
 her soft sobbing. Dawn was breaking when the 
 frame slid back and the heavy breathing was beside 
 her through the paper walls again. 
 
 With the morning came a fine drizzle of rain. At 
 the scant breakfast Miyoshi complained of his hip, 
 but limped off to the fields in spite of it, his wife
 
 162 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 coming with him. Rennoske and Kiku followed 
 behind at a little distance. 
 
 The scene of this morning, where every bush and 
 tree was rain-pearled, brought suddenly to the girl's 
 mind the dew of the night before. 
 
 She tried to choke down the sob; but on 
 seeing the boulder of granite, where but a few 
 hours before Rennoske stole by with the sword 
 in his hand, the sob came, turned into a choking 
 sigh. 
 
 "What grieves thee, gentlest flower?" he whispered 
 tenderly. "Why art thou sad?" 
 
 Her father and mother were out of sight behind 
 the rock, so she ventured timidly: 
 
 "There is that which lies heavy on my heart, 
 Little Warrior." 
 
 "I know," he answered cheerfully. 
 
 She looked oddly at him. 
 
 "Osaki comes not what of that? Have pa- 
 tience, ships go and come. Perhaps he will be here 
 with the wild rose, or e'en when the chrysanthemums 
 bloom again. 
 
 "There will be another singing of the nightin- 
 gale. There are contrary winds and angry seas. 
 Perhaps he is held back." 
 
 "It is not for Osaki I grieve," the girl answered. 
 
 "Kikii San!" was borne through the rain. 
 
 "Come, gentlest flower," Rennoske said, catching
 
 A ROLLING STONE OF HATE 163 
 
 her by the hand. "Thy father calls. Grieve not 
 unknowingly. Come, be gay!" 
 
 And he pulled her along, passing the boulder at a 
 trot. Instantly she thought of the night before 
 again, for he had passed here sword in hand at 
 this same pace. 
 
 Why, she asked herself, must he of all men 
 remind her of Osaki? Was it not enough that 
 her conscience pricked her by the hour, ever call- 
 ing the figure of the seal-hunter before her mind's 
 eye? Must he, the prime cause, add salt to the 
 wound ? 
 
 "Lazy wench!" Miyoshi was thundering in her 
 ears now. "And thou, too, hulking boy! To work 
 and quickly isoge!" 
 
 In a minute four backs were bent in the rain, while 
 eight hands were busy among the young, green 
 shoots, pulling and weeding, throwing away and 
 planting again. 
 
 Toward noon Miyoshi complained of his hip and 
 feared to work longer. He climbed out of the ditch, 
 Kiku watching him out of the corner of her eye. 
 She saw him scrape the mud from his ankles, put 
 on his sandals again, and turn toward the house; but 
 she was thwarted in her desire. Her father turned 
 and called back, while her heart thumped madly at 
 every word. 
 
 "Come, wife, to the house. Let these lazy two
 
 164 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 finish the day at the task. The rain is chastisement 
 enough for them." 
 
 Kiku watched her father and mother walk slowly 
 up the path, round the boulder, their somber kimonos 
 disappearing from view, swallowed up by the misty 
 rain. She was alone with her Little Warrior! 
 
 After an hour of silence she wondered what had 
 been her fear, for the boy never said a word. Indeed, 
 his mind was busy, for the rice plants to him were no 
 rice plants at all, but armed peasants, each placed 
 at an even distance from the other. He hummed 
 them a war-song as he did so; he smiled as they stood 
 up straight under the rain. 
 
 "Art thou not tired?" she ventured, watching 
 him; for his fingers had begun to slow at his task. 
 The reason was that his brain worked fast. 
 
 "Why should I be?" he answered vaguely, without 
 looking up. "The task is simple." 
 
 Kiku could have deluded herself into believing 
 that she had done her part of the bargain. Left 
 alone with Rennoske and given the opportunity, she 
 had begun the conversation, with the result already 
 shown : Rennoske going on with his task, paying no 
 heed to her. 
 
 But as has been shown before, Kiku San had a 
 conscience. She had promised her gods something 
 if they would grant her a boon. The boon was 
 granted her task lay yet before her.
 
 A ROLLING STONE OF HATE 165 
 
 The rain might soak her to the skin, the fog en- 
 velop the valley below her; but this time the little 
 voice within her that cried "Tell, tell!" would not 
 down. 
 
 Yet there was that to be found out before she told. 
 She knew the man beside her to be honest, upright, 
 and straightforward. The telling might and prob- 
 ably would make him shun her like the unclean 
 thing she felt herself to be. He would cast her from 
 him good. She would know what he meant to 
 do first. 
 
 "You should be tired, Little Warrior," she began 
 timidly. 
 
 "Why so?" he answered. 
 
 "You have had but little sleep these twelve nights 
 past." 
 
 Rennoske yanked a rice plant clean from its roots, 
 held it still in his hand while he stared at her. She 
 shivered under his gaze. 
 
 "Thou knowest then?" This in a far-away 
 voice. 
 
 "I know." 
 
 "And thou hast seen?" 
 
 "Aye." 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 "Last night I saw when they came for you, all 
 else I heard." 
 
 "Thou wilt not betray us?"
 
 i66 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 The words, snapped so suddenly, caught Kiku off 
 her guard. 
 
 "How can I betray that which I know not?" she 
 answered. 
 
 He looked relieved. She saw him hesitate, hold- 
 ing his lip between his thumb and forefinger, as of 
 old. Her woman's instinct told her a lie and the 
 truth fought for mastery of his thought. It was the 
 truth she wanted let him not dishonor himself 
 to save her pain; it was the truth she wanted, so 
 she cried out for it. 
 
 "I am a daughter of Nippon, Little Warrior. I 
 betray naught that man may deign to tell. Tell me 
 where you go. Is it for war? Do you seek to leave 
 my father's house?" 
 
 He looked her in the eyes and answered firmly yet 
 simply : 
 
 "Aye, gentlest flower, it is for war, and in time 
 will I leave our father's house." 
 
 She swayed a little on hearing the expected. A 
 dry little sob quivered in her throat while her eyes 
 were tear-dimmed through the rain. The sight of 
 her swept away the throbbing of war-drums that 
 buzzed all day in his ears. She looked so frail, so 
 loving. 
 
 "Gentlest flower." His words were soft and 
 tenderly spoken. "Little Warrior I am called. 
 Little Warrior shall I be, O Kiku. A hatred of the
 
 A ROLLING STONE OF HATE 167 
 
 Matsuyama burns within my breast, and there are 
 many wrongs to be righted aye, more than are 
 leaves upon the maple. My brothers have chosen 
 me to lead them. I know no other way than that I 
 should draw my sword and go forward to the foe." 
 
 Kiku sobbed again. 
 
 "Yet why shouldst thou grieve? Thou art the 
 promised bride of Osaki. When I return victorious, 
 thou shalt have drunk the nine times nine times 
 in his house. I shall then be ever a brother to 
 thee." 
 
 "Nay, nay, nay!" cried the girl. "I want him 
 not nor is it for a brother I want thee!" 
 
 "I am sorry, then," he answered, not understand- 
 ing her true meaning, "I cannot bring him back." 
 
 "Listen, Little Warrior," came the girl's voice in 
 a tense, tragic whisper. "Call me what you will. 
 Tell my father and let him slay me. This burden I 
 cannot bear longer on my soul lest it crush me. 
 
 "That day I was upon the Maya Maru re- 
 member you and Osaki each cried to the other 
 that I was stolen. I came to the deck with Osaki 
 when the crew and yourself were at the fencing. I 
 saw him go down for the trial with you. 
 
 "Then it seemed an evil spirit came to me as I 
 stood there, whispering: 'Thou needst not marry 
 Osaki, whom thou hatest. There is a way out, if 
 thou wilt but take it.' It was you I desired, Little
 
 i68 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Warrior, more so than ever when I saw you vanquish 
 the crew. 
 
 "I crept down into the very bowels of the ship 
 none saw me. It was dark there. Great rats 
 scurried about and squealed. I crept over many 
 boxes and hard things. My hand struck one. I 
 felt it. It was a great, sharp knife. 
 
 "Need you know more, Little Warrior? With 
 mine own hands I cut and dug and scratched until 
 I had made a hole in the wood. I felt the water 
 trickling, trickling down. I was cutting still when 
 I heard the angry voices, and came up. You re- 
 member the lie that came from my lips when I prayed 
 for Osaki's ship ? 
 
 "Now you know why I weep, Little Warrior. I 
 weep not for Osaki. He is dead ! I have murdered 
 him. It was for you, Little Warrior, it was for you ! " 
 
 Kiku San waited. There was no answer from 
 Rennoske. 
 
 "Do you forgive me? Will you tell my father?" 
 she went on. " I care not I will have none of 
 Osaki I will marry you or no man." 
 
 Still Rennoske was silent. She dared all and 
 looked at him. He was staring down the mountain- 
 side. She crept over and looked down. 
 
 Toiling up the hill she beheld a tiny man a 
 dwarf. Upward, ever upward he came, through the 
 fog and driving rain.
 
 A ROLLING STONE OF HATE 169 
 
 "What is it?" she asked. 
 
 She looked at his face. His eyes were open wide 
 in terror, the veins in his neck stood out like whip- 
 cords. She heard him snarl like a wild beast, then 
 she saw him run swiftly up the mud dike. He came 
 back again with a heavy stone and placed it upon the 
 very edge of the slope. 
 
 With a cry of hate he pushed the rock over the 
 steep incline. At the cry the creature below looked 
 up. It was the ugly dwarf that had passed them in 
 the litter. Fascinated, she watched the stone as it 
 bounded down. 
 
 It struck. There was a yell of pain. Two hairy 
 arms were thrown up. Then the thing lay still! 
 
 Kiku, horror stricken, turned her face again upon 
 Rennoske. There again were the staring eyes, the 
 blank, childlike face. 
 
 "Little Warrior Little Warrior!" she called, 
 tugging at his kimono sleeve. "Did you hear my 
 tale? Do you know your gentlest flower is a mur- 
 deress? Did you hear?" 
 
 She knew the signs of his malady, and rose and 
 gently led him home. Had he heard her? Was it 
 that which brought on the fit? Who was the dwarf? 
 Why had he hurled down the stone? 
 
 She looked back to where the body lay. It was 
 moving! It raised its head, turned, and crawling, 
 crawling went slowly down the hill.
 
 Chapter 
 A Broken Sword in the Forest 
 
 ONCE again it was spring, and the cherry 
 blossoms were pink clouds against the 
 tender green of the valley and the blue of 
 an April sky. 
 
 The mountain torrent roared, for the water was 
 white to the overflow from the melting snows of the 
 towering mountain. 
 
 Rennoske of the house of the Red River, heredi- 
 tary Daimyo of the province, was twenty-one; 
 another winter had slipped by in the shoji of Miyoshi 
 upon the tiny plateau. There is no need to tell 
 again the story of that winter; it was the same as 
 the one that had gone before it scant food, little 
 warmth, lack of proper clothing. 
 
 Never was the nightingale's song more welcome, 
 never the rays of the sun a gladder sight as they 
 stirred the sluggish blood of the elders and brought 
 new life into the veins of the young. 
 
 Yet things had happened unknown, stealthy 
 things for those that had eyes to see them. 
 Miyoshi's eyes were dim, else he could have plainly
 
 A BROKEN SWORD 171 
 
 traced footprints in the mud about his house o* 
 mornings or seen tracks in the snow. 
 
 Kiku did not need to see them she had ears to 
 know what was going on. She had heard the words 
 of Rennoske, "It is for war," and had understood, 
 though she dreaded the time she knew must be close 
 at hand. 
 
 As for the promise to her gods, she had done her 
 part of that and told. Whether the man had heard 
 she knew not. She could never bring herself to tell 
 him again, even if she had had the opportunity; 
 which she hadn't. 
 
 Rennoske himself had been a year free from any 
 sign of his sickness, leaner, yet mightier muscled 
 than before. The boyishness was still in his fine 
 eyes, but with it came a settled look, a look of 
 authority. He was a born leader, for heredity 
 will speak, no matter how environment seeks to 
 crush it out. His ancestors were noblemen and 
 fighters for generations untold. 
 
 Hampered by a strange malady, his heritage un- 
 known, his position in life little more than a bond 
 slave, yet he had the knack of command, the gift 
 of forcing attention when he spoke. 
 
 Under his foster-father's roof he obeyed the farmer 
 in all things. By two oaks on the lawn at Takenaka 
 it was he who was obeyed, for a reason none knew. 
 His were not the only tracks through the snow nor
 
 172 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 the only footprints in the mud. Many by-paths led 
 to Takenaka; many feet had worn a familiar path. 
 It was for war. 
 
 The shoji walls were only partly up on this 
 particular night, for the air was warm. The cherry 
 trees looked white in the moonlight, the shadows of 
 twig and branch black on the grass by contrast. 
 
 Kiku San sat in her usual place in the alcove 
 by the green vase, looking out at the trees. The 
 petals were beginning to drop, she noticed; some 
 swirled to the ground in the evening breeze. Let 
 them all fall, she thought; they were the signs of 
 her dearly bought freedom. 
 
 The farmer's wife scoured a pot by the doorway. 
 Miyoshi sat close to her, munching a bit of birch- 
 bark. Rennoske tried to be still, but his eyes wan- 
 dered from the waterfall's spray to the path to the 
 rice fields. Beyond was Takenaka and action. 
 
 The farmer rose slowly and painfully, shuffled to 
 a cupboard that stood on the floor, opened it, and 
 drew out a paper lantern. This he rattled open, 
 struck a spark from the tinder box, and lit the wax- 
 berry candle inside. Then he hung the lantern from 
 a hook on one of the bamboo rafters, went back to 
 the cupboard, and brought out the wooden board 
 and the chessmen. 
 
 "Come, son," he called, squatting down before 
 it. "Let us see if thou can beat me at shogi hei?"
 
 A BROKEN SWORD 173 
 
 Rennoske never looked, never moved, answering 
 in a far-away voice: 
 
 " It grieves me that I cannot play tonight, O my 
 father." 
 
 "Wherefore so?" snapped the farmer. "Is thy 
 brain fogged? Art dreaming of turning bandit? 
 Thou canst not play in good sooth! Hei, thou 
 hulking boy! Hither, lest I cuff thee upon the 
 ears!" 
 
 "Wherefore begin that which cannot be finished?" 
 Rennoske questioned by way of reply. "When the 
 moon casts no shadow on the pine tree must I be 
 upon the green before Takenaka. Many men wait 
 there for me." 
 
 " Dost thou hear him ? " Miyoshi chortled. " Many 
 men wait for him at Takenaka ho-ho! They do 
 not fly kites in the evening, lad. Get thee to bed, 
 for I see thou art loose in thy mind again." 
 
 Rennoske rose and went to his corner of the room. 
 The farmer wisely nodded his head; he thought 
 his advice taken. His jaw dropped when he saw 
 his foster-son before him again, wearing his long 
 kimono. 
 
 "And now it is time," Miyoshi's astonished ears 
 heard him say. "I must don my armor on the way, 
 and must therefore start early. I would stay and 
 help with the transplanting, but I fear that must 
 wait as it shall in many fields hereabouts.
 
 174 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Aye and farther for our own seed sprouts 
 now. Many gardens grow steel instead of flowers. 
 To you, O my father! To you, O my mother! To 
 thee, O Kiku San! Saianara I salute you!" 
 
 And he bowed to the matting. 
 
 Miyoshi saw the fire in his eye; this was no joke, 
 as he had thought. He licked his dry lips as he 
 asked : 
 
 "Whither do you go, lad?" 
 
 "We make war upon the Matsuyama. An 
 hundred wait at Takenaka. Messengers have trav- 
 eled since noon to Boruku. There shall be a thou- 
 sand odd by the morning of the second day hence." 
 
 "Who leads them?" 
 
 "Inari willing, I do, O my father." 
 
 Miyoshi the Farmer could do nothing but gurgle. 
 Under his very eyes! Under his very nose! The 
 boy who worked in the rice fields! The "hulking 
 lad" who helped him with the charcoal! He a 
 leader of a thousand men against the Matsuyama! 
 
 Oh, incredible thing in a most incredible world! 
 Osaki the Sailor came not from the sea, his cracked- 
 brained son to lead an army hei ! but the gods 
 made a footstool of him and made game of his 
 cunning! He was Japanese enough, however, to 
 swallow his chagrin and rise, saying: 
 
 "My blessing go with thee, O my son. Victory 
 shine on thine arms. Forget us not. Defeat over-
 
 A BROKEN SWORD 175 
 
 come thee, return to us and we will give shelter. 
 Saianara I salute you!" 
 
 Rennoske turned his head at a thump upon the 
 matting. He looked toward the sound and saw 
 Kiku lying prone upon the floor on her face. He saw 
 no more, for he turned his face toward the path to 
 the rice fields. He did not once look back; the 
 royal blood of a fighting race took its toll. This was 
 no time for pity, no time for love. With head erect 
 he passed the boulder and was lost to sight to those 
 in the shoji upon the tiny plateau. 
 
 He had not gone far along the moon-speckled 
 path when a hiss and a rustle of leaves halted him. 
 
 "A snake's hiss in the grass is the password," he 
 whispered. "Who art thou?" 
 
 "It is I O Kina," came a cracked voice. 
 
 The old soldier shambled out, bearing a heavy 
 bundle. Rennoske came toward him, and the two 
 stood in the deep shadow of a maple. 
 
 "Thou hast on no leathern shirt, yet thy juban 
 will do as well," O Kina began. "Take off thy 
 kimono nay, bear it with thee, for it is good to 
 lie upon nights. Here is the breastplate," and he 
 dived into the bag, returning with the cuirass in his 
 gnarled old hands. "A bit rusty, mayhap, but still 
 able to hold ofF spear thrusts. The chain armor for 
 stopping the knife stabs goes beneath wait I 
 will put it upon thee."
 
 176 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 His trembling old fingers were busy with lacings, 
 straps, and buckles, most of them moldy and soft 
 from lack of use; but the steel shell fitted, for the 
 frame of O Kina had shrunken since he last had it on. 
 
 Toe caps and instep rings, shin plates and chain 
 armor for the calf of the leg, thigh guards and the 
 jointed apron the old soldier talking glibly the 
 while. Horsemen were not to be feared it was 
 best to stand the beasts feared the spears. Raise 
 the arm when the sword swung for the head, if it 
 were too late for the parry. 
 
 So babbled O Kina while the armor covered the 
 frame of Rennoske. When at last he walked toward 
 the path again, he gleamed and shone in the moon- 
 light a warlike sight for old Kina's eyes. 
 
 "Give me the sword," he called. 
 
 O Kina handed the weapon to him and smiled 
 again at the firm grip of the gauntleted fist. They 
 walked the rest of the way in silence, O Kina in the 
 rear, bearing the kimono. 
 
 Quite a different sight was the lawn before 
 Takenaka that moonlight April night. Instead of 
 running boys with kites, there was spread out upon 
 it moving black things. Men these were, armed 
 with spear and ax. They rested upon their arms in 
 odd groups, talking softly of their chances of gather- 
 ing forces as they went. 
 
 They had been told to make as little noise as
 
 A BROKEN SWORD 177 
 
 possible; but something they now saw made them 
 forget their word. Out into the full glow of the 
 moonlight, from between the trees, a man stepped 
 out before them. On his head was a steel helmet, 
 from top to toe he gleamed, and his long sword 
 threw back the glint of the moonbeams. 
 
 For a summer and a winter they had listened to 
 his words he whose station in life was above 
 theirs, they knew, had planned this with what 
 seemed supernatural wisdom. 
 
 He it was told where the messages were to be 
 sent and what these messages should be. He it was 
 who bade them lash their knives to their spears. He 
 had sent his wisdom through other mouthpieces far 
 and wide about the countryside. 
 
 Working by day in the fields, he had spent his 
 nights among them, till the little band grew and 
 grew, and now the name of the Little Warrior was a 
 by-word among the peasants. From the day of the 
 Boy's Festival here on this very lawn they had 
 begun to love him. 
 
 Now they saw him standing there in the armor, 
 brave, noble, and the shout that rose to their lips 
 would not down. 
 
 " Banzai Ko Samurai I Long live the Little 
 Warrior!" 
 
 It echoed up the mountain and down the valley, 
 waking the cool glens, vibrating among the green
 
 178 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 hillocks. The women and children heard it and 
 trembled in their rest. 
 
 Rennoske raised the sword in salutation and his 
 voice rang out clarion-clear: 
 
 "Men of the Land of the Rising Sun, we stand 
 ready to strike the blow. Long have we suffered 
 under the grinding of the Matsuyama. Our land 
 has been blighted, our cattle taken, our houses 
 burned, and our men and women slain. 
 
 "It is enough that we should rise against them. 
 Until they are brought beneath our heels, never shall 
 I live in the land. 
 
 "If I lead, ye must follow. If I fall, ye must fall 
 with me. Men of the Land of the Rising Sun I 
 am ready!" 
 
 "Long live the Little Warrior!" came the shout 
 again. "We follow!" 
 
 And so over the lawn at Takenaka, past the 
 huddled houses of the village, skirting the path by 
 the granite boulder that rose black against the moon- 
 light, through the black bogs and stagnant pools of 
 the forest, marched Rennoske, hereditary Daimyo of 
 the province, at the head of an hundred men. 
 
 Many times during the night was the serpent's 
 hiss heard in the grass. Many times one, two, or 
 three rudely armed men came out to join him. By 
 midnight they came to the opening through the 
 trees that showed the way to the white road to
 
 A BROKEN SWORD 179 
 
 Boruku. Here they rested, two hundred and twenty 
 strong. 
 
 A little after sunrise they began to march again, 
 along the sandy way, flanked by the waving, green 
 cattails. 
 
 Out of a cloud of dust ahead of them a boy 
 came running. Rennoske recognized him as the 
 youngest son of the Tapper of Laquer Trees, who, 
 true to his promise, had given his seven sons to the 
 cause. 
 
 "How goes it at Boruku?" Rennoske asked. 
 
 "The news spreads quickly, O leader," replied the 
 boy. "The cormorant fishers leave their birds in 
 their baskets and come to join you. Upon the 
 beach they gathered this morning, sixty in all. They 
 should be upon us within the hour." 
 
 "And thy eldest brother? Hast seen aught of 
 him?" 
 
 "Aye, leader. We passed at sundown yester- 
 e'en. To the Village of the Crooked Oaks he is 
 bent, where dwell the candle-makers. He told me 
 he had seen many, but there was one master of many 
 coolies yet to be won over." 
 
 "Send that the coolies come to us, for they are 
 long-muscled men and clever with the knife. Walk 
 thou with us. Much running hath winded thee." 
 
 The day was perfect; the birds sang in the trees; 
 the crickets chirped in the tall grass. Rennoske
 
 i8o THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 caught the spirit of it all. Victory was surely his! 
 Was not the whole countryside coming out to 
 meet him? From Takenaka to here was less than 
 ten miles, yet their force had been doubled. At 
 Boruku sixty more were to enroll under his banner. 
 
 There was yet the winding road through the 
 marshes and the uplands. If in ten miles so many 
 had come, how great would his force be in the hun- 
 dred that lay between him and the palace of his foe ? 
 
 The sixty fishers were there at their word. By 
 sunset the wax-workers came. 
 
 They rested for the second night in a grove of 
 sweet-smelling pines on a slope above a curved 
 beach, their army numbering now three hundred 
 and seventy. 
 
 The road they took in the morning ran in and out 
 along the beach. There were no villages, for the 
 wind swept free over the dunes of sand, a chill wind 
 even in summer, while winter saw it a blast. Yet 
 here and there behind a sandy hummock, grown over 
 with wiry grass, would be a round hovel of peat, the 
 home of some fisherman. 
 
 Some of these showed no sign of habitation; but 
 as the little army came within hailing distance the 
 doorways of many would be blocked by a man. He 
 would embrace his wife, shoulder a spear or club, and 
 make his way across the sand toward the band. 
 Then it would be:
 
 A BROKEN SWORD 181 
 
 "I seek the man they call 'Little Warrior,' who 
 bids us rise and overthrow the oppressors the 
 Matsuyama." 
 
 "I am that man. Do you come of your own free 
 will?" 
 
 " I do, O leader." 
 
 "Join the ranks, then there is room for many." 
 
 So they would pass on. 
 
 At the crossroads where the way struck off sharply 
 through the hills, Rennoske found waiting for him 
 the second son of the Tapper of Laquer Trees. He 
 had collected a band of fisherfolk and sailors from 
 the shore of a long-jutting cape that ran some 
 halfscore miles into the sea. 
 
 Forty-seven there were, bronzed men and well- 
 built. They had a grievance of long standing, and 
 waited but for a chance to strike back at the soldiers 
 who had destroyed their nets when they refused* to 
 give a week's haul to the junk of the Matsuyama that 
 prowled upon their peaceful shores. 
 
 On the third night from Takenaka, four hundred 
 and ninety armed men slept on the outskirts of a 
 village, upon the steep slope of a mountain, whose 
 sides fell sheer to a wide, saucer-like valley. The 
 Matsuyama palace and its grounds was at the other 
 end, near the mountains that showed velvet-black in 
 the starlight. 
 
 Two rivers fed this valley on their way to the in-
 
 1 82 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 land sea. The Obigawa wound a snakelike course 
 behind the palace grounds, while the nearer one, the 
 Nakugawa, ran swift through a green and reeded 
 plain, whither the host of Rennoske must come by 
 sunset the following day. 
 
 During the night many came from village, from 
 crag-nestled hamlet, and tea plantation the country 
 round. With them came the other sons of the 
 Tapper of Laquer Trees. By sunrise the army 
 marched down the slope, numbering the full expected 
 thousand. 
 
 When the sun sank rose-golden behind the peaks 
 to west of them, the rebellious peasants found them- 
 selves on the green plain they had seen from the 
 hills the night before. Facing them at a distance 
 of about a quarter of a mile, the swift stream ran. 
 To their left was a belt of dense forest, whose aisles 
 wete dark enough to bear out any weird tale. To 
 the right stretched the plain, sweeping away to the 
 mountains. 
 
 There the first sign of opposition had been seen, 
 for clearly distinguishable in the afternoon sunlight 
 shone a mass of light-reflecting armor. This they 
 knew to be the Matsuyama army, yet its strength 
 could not be ascertained, for the view was blocked 
 by many rises of ground, reeds, and trees. Rennoske 
 rested his men, for the attack, he felt sure, must be 
 close at hand.
 
 A BROKEN SWORD 183 
 
 As he lay there in the sheen of the stars, his 
 kimono over his armor, sleep would not come to 
 him. All about lay the huddled figures of the sleep- 
 ing men who had trusted and followed him. He had 
 no scruples about bringing them. They had come 
 willingly. He told himself that they would not 
 regret their step. 
 
 Had he not been all winter training them ? Were 
 there not a thousand, and all fully, though rudely, 
 armed ? Defeat ? The thought never came. 
 
 The Matsuyama would rush upon them, belit- 
 tling their cause and their strength. Well would 
 they stand their ground. Slowly the black armor 
 would be beaten back. The news of victory would 
 be spread by swift messengers. Then let the Black 
 Boar tremble upon his throne! 
 
 The only thing that troubled him was a slight 
 pain in the back of his head. He struggled against 
 it and soon fell asleep. 
 
 He was awakened by a clatter and a shouting all 
 about him. The first gray dawn had tipped the tree- 
 tops. On all sides of him there was loud talking 
 and confusion. The men were picking up their 
 arms with a wild-eyed stupidity, holding them this 
 way and that, running into each other, going hither 
 and thither like sheep in a corral. 
 
 "They come, O leader," said the second son of 
 the Tapper of Laquer Trees. "Their line can be
 
 184 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 plainly seen by yonder tall grass ahead of us. Quite 
 near I crawled. There must be two hundred with 
 swords and bows and arrows. From head to toe, 
 every man is armored. Truly a fearsome lot." 
 
 "Do they advance?" Rennoske asked in the con- 
 fused state of a half-awakened brain. 
 
 "Nay," the young man answered. "They stand 
 a solid mass of black and glistening steel." 
 
 "Where are the fishers?" 
 
 "To our left. They cry for food, O leader. A 
 fear has come upon them." 
 
 " Food they shall have plenty by noon, if they 
 will but charge as I bid them yestere'en." 
 
 The boy was gone in the half-light. Rennoske 
 picked up his sword and made to move toward the 
 mountaineers who babbled and squealed ahead of 
 him. Some one clutched at his kimono sleeve. 
 
 "There was a stirring in the woods behind us, O 
 leader," said a man with white face. "I have lived 
 here many years and have oft heard the snortings. 
 There is a dragon which spouts fire in the forest. 
 My grandsire saw him once and then lost his reason. 
 We cannot fight here. The men from our village 
 seek to go." 
 
 " Hei children's tales!" Rennoske snapped. 
 "Stand your ground and bid your legs cease their 
 quivering. Away with you " 
 
 The pain came in the back of his head again.
 
 A BROKEN SWORD 185 
 
 A shout went up from the peasants before him, fol- 
 lowed by another. Rennoske looked for the cause. 
 An arrow whistled through the air another still 
 another till the air was black with them. The 
 peasants were drawn up in a ragged line that wavered 
 as the arrows hit. Here and there a man fell. 
 
 He saw that they were upon a slope of ground that 
 fell away toward the tall grass where the archers 
 were hidden. He saw in an instant how senseless it 
 would be to stand and be mowed down by the hail 
 of arrows. The slope would give the men impetus 
 for a charge. They might rush the archers off their 
 feet. 
 
 "Hold hard to your weapons points of spears 
 outward," he cried. 
 
 "We hear," came a sullen roar. 
 
 "I give the word forward! Men of Ya- 
 moto " 
 
 "Little Warrior! Little Warrior!" shrieked a 
 man, running frantically upon Rennoske. "The 
 woods are full of the soldiers of the Matsuyama 
 the woods behind us!" 
 
 "How say you?" He saw the peasants had gone 
 but a few paces. "Onward," he roared. "Charge! 
 Men of Yamoto " 
 
 "The Black Boar!" screamed another frightened 
 peasant. "The army in the woods rides on winged 
 steeds, led by the Black Boar himself!"
 
 i86 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "The Black Boar!" repeated Rennoske in the 
 voice of a man in a dream. The sword dropped from 
 his nerveless fingers. 
 
 And now the true cause of the hesitancy of the 
 peasants in attacking the line of steel was dis- 
 covered in the half-light. They knew a swift-flow- 
 ing stream was at their left as they turned to 
 attack. Now they found another one, a mere 
 creek, lay before them unseen until now, hidden by 
 the tall grass! 
 
 With a yell the other body of the Matsuyama 
 rushed from the woods and, heading to the right, 
 made to cut off the peasants' retreat. 
 
 "What shall we do, O leader?" cried the son of 
 the Tapper of Laquer Trees. "See, we are sur- 
 rounded. We cannot move." 
 
 "The Black Boar!" said Rennoske in the same far- 
 away voice, and he stared unseeing at the men about 
 him. 
 
 "He said we should attack," said one. "Let us 
 forward." 
 
 "Nay," answered the other. "There were 
 orders for the men of Yamoto. We are here. What 
 is to do?" 
 
 Their argument was interrupted by a horrible yell 
 from the men nearest the waiting body of Matsu- 
 yama. The archers had increased their deadly hail 
 and the peasants, unable to move forward, pressed
 
 A BROKEN SWORD 187 
 
 onward by those behind, dropped like the tall grass 
 in which they stood. 
 
 In an instant they were in the terrible panic of full 
 flight. Some plunged headlong into the rushing 
 stream, to be picked off by the archers as they 
 swam. Others, the madness of defeat boiling in 
 their veins, ran into the second file of soldiers, to be 
 cut down by the waiting swords. 
 
 Rennoske was in the midst of a screaming vortex 
 of death-stricken peasants. The din of their cries, 
 the clink of the swords, the thud of falling bodies as 
 they fell drummed in his ears. They rushed upon 
 him and bore him down. He fell heavily and lay 
 senseless on the ground. 
 
 The old blow of the Black Boar's sword had tri- 
 umphed again, even as the Black Boar's army had 
 triumphed over the simple peasants who had trusted 
 and followed him. 
 
 Rennoske came slowly to his senses. There was 
 a sharp burning in his throat; he could scarcely 
 breathe. Then he realized that he lay under a great 
 weight. He placed both hands upon the ground and 
 lifted himself slowly to his knees. 
 
 Something rolled off his back and fell with a 
 thud upon the ground beside him. He looked 
 at it in the dim light. It was the body of a 
 dead man. There were others beside him. He
 
 i88 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 must have lain under this heap of the dead and so 
 escaped. 
 
 He counted the bodies. There were seven of 
 them. He looked at the faces. They were the sons 
 of the Tapper of Laquer Trees. 
 
 Wearily he walked toward the forest, sword in 
 hand. He sat down under a great oak, far from that 
 field of disaster. The sinking sun lighted up a copse 
 of white birches before him. It was a good time, 
 he thought. There was no other way open to him 
 but death. 
 
 He took off the shirt of mail and bared his bosom. 
 He would join the spirits he had sent too soon from 
 life, join them and tell them it had not been his 
 fault. Perhaps in the other life he would know 
 what caused his hateful malady. They might for- 
 give him if he explained. The point of the sword 
 was already against his flesh, the hilt in both his 
 hands. 
 
 What was this that rang so clearly in his brain ? 
 a voice! A voice he had heard in childhood 
 an old voice, soft and low. What did it say? 
 
 It bade him pause "Pause, Little Warrior." 
 It whispered that he would yet conquer the hated 
 Matsuyama. "Have courage, O Little Warrior!" 
 He took the sword and broke it across his knee.
 
 Chapter 
 A Listening Ear Behind a Screen 
 
 THE face of the Baron Matsuyama was 
 livid. He dug his nails into his palms 
 while he listened to the story of the armored 
 man before him. The man ceased speaking, and the 
 pent-up torrent of his high excellency's feelings 
 burst forth. 
 
 "Incompetent swine, why didst thou allow him to 
 escape ? He was but the one armored man in a mob 
 of a thousand. 'We could not find him, high excel- 
 lency,' thou whinest now. Wherefore not? Could 
 he fly into the air like a bird? Could he burrow 
 into the ground like a mole? Could not find him, 
 indeed ! Was he slain ? " 
 
 "We found no such body, high excellency." 
 
 "Where didst thou look?" 
 
 "Everywhere in the tall grass, in every nook and 
 corner of the forest. Fifty of my men spent the 
 day till long past noon in the search. There was 
 nothing but heaps of the dead upon all the ground 
 and the weapons flung away of those that fled." 
 
 " So then it is not my loss. This fellow will
 
 190 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 rise again, mark my words, and thou and thy troop 
 will have all over again the business of slaying his 
 host of rebellious dogs. How many of ye fell?" 
 
 "But twenty, high excellency. The peasants 
 were routed with frightful loss. Less than half of 
 them escaped, and few of these with whole skins. 
 Our arrows fell upon them like hail. They scattered 
 to the four winds while we pursued them, cutting 
 down the laggards with our swords." 
 
 "Aye, and then thou spoilst the business by letting 
 their leader slip away. I had thought thou wert a 
 better leader than that, O Mori." 
 
 The gaunt knight hung his head at the reproof. 
 Then to justify himself he said: 
 
 "His Sublime Majesty the Black Boar was there. 
 He, too, joined the search." 
 
 "Where is the prince?" 
 
 "Yonder in his resting palace you will find him." 
 
 Without deigning another word, the Baron Mat- 
 suyama stalked off along the gravel path past the 
 palace that held the throne-room, crossed a green 
 lawn ablaze with beds of hyacinths, and made for a 
 smaller red-roofed building. The paper walls were 
 up with the exception of a space for the door. 
 The baron passed the sentry and entered. 
 
 The Black Boar stood in the center of the room. 
 Two Koreans were helping him on with a juban of 
 raw silk and a soft kimono. The room smelled of
 
 A LISTENING EAR 191 
 
 spiced perfumes and oils. On the heavy matting 
 were scattered bearskins and leopards' hides; a spray 
 of cherry blossoms stood in a tall vase; a s amis en 
 leaned against it. 
 
 The baron's son lowered his black brows at sight 
 of his father. He drew down the corner of his 
 mouth and grunted. His high excellency stood in 
 the doorway, watching the servants at their task. 
 
 He waited for them to leave, waited for his son to 
 flop heavily upon a bearskin and stretch out his 
 short muscular limbs. Then his high excellency 
 began in an icy voice: 
 
 "There has been fool's work done this day. 
 Mori tells me you were in the search for this rebel- 
 lious leader. What kind of craft was this to let him 
 escape? Do you not know he will be upon us again? 
 I know not who he is, but I have my fears. A fine 
 bit of bungling have you done." 
 
 The Black Boar snarled and spat. 
 
 "It is easy for you to sit home here and tell me 
 what I shall do. All night long must I march to 
 meet these dogs, then hide me in a foul woods till 
 dawn. Did not we, three hundred to a thousand, hew 
 these swine to bits ? We did not do so, and so, and 
 so, you say. Go next time yourself and do better!" 
 
 "Have a care, boy," the baron growled. 
 
 "Inari be cursed, nay!" the Black Boar answered, 
 thumping his fist upon the floor. "You would rule
 
 192 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 the kingdom rule then and be silent. Wallow in 
 the mud of it! I shall do no more. Let it rot and 
 old men's advice with it!" 
 
 The youth snarled and spat again. 
 
 " Hei, without there," he shouted. "Bring me 
 a bowl of sakkee! Have it hot and of goodly 
 measure." 
 
 Then he fell to picking at the rug on which he lay, 
 mumbling and cursing to himself. 
 
 The baron stretched himself to his full height. He 
 was boiling inside; his fingers itched for a grip at 
 his insolent son's throat. There might have been a 
 change in the dynasty in that moment of rage if 
 some one had not plucked his high excellency's 
 kimono sleeve and whispered, "I bear great news." 
 
 "What is it?" the baron snapped, looking down 
 at the cringing servant. 
 
 "The dwarf " the man whispered. "He 
 speaks." 
 
 Like lightning was the change in the baron's 
 demeanor. He caught the man by the shoulder 
 and hustled him out into the sunlight. 
 
 "When was this?" he hissed. 
 
 "But an hour ago, high excellency. He knew 
 me and all about him." 
 
 "Quickly fetch my litter and the swiftest 
 bearers isoge!" 
 
 A tea-tasting party of silk-clad nobles and ladies
 
 A LISTENING EAR 193 
 
 was disturbed by the patter of feet. They looked 
 to see the Baron Matsuyama waving his arms and 
 bidding his four litter bearers to go faster. The 
 palanquin swayed as it plunged along the lawn, 
 through the flower beds and between the camphor 
 trees. They heard the cry of the carriers die away 
 in the forest beyond. 
 
 "His high excellency is in a hurry," laughed a 
 languid youth. Two dainty ladies tittered. 
 
 "Some one hath found hidden gold," said one. 
 
 "Or hidden charms," the youth went on with 
 a guffaw. "Madame Golden Glow grows older. 
 There are many pretty ladies about!" 
 
 The group all laughed and returned to their game. 
 
 Certainly His High Excellency the Baron Matsu- 
 yama was in a hurry. He sprang from the litter 
 the instant it touched the ground and loped up the 
 beaten path to his palace. Of solid logs was it 
 built, for the baron eschewed shoji walls. They 
 could be too easily pierced by knives or arrows. 
 The baron flung open the door and sprang inside. 
 
 The room was oblong, two-score and more feet 
 long. In one corner was built an alcove where a 
 green lamp shone on a five-armed goddess. A heavy 
 gong hung from the rafters before her. The walls 
 were covered by many suits of armor, swords, spears, 
 and other articles of warfare. Directly opposite the 
 alcove stood a magnificent silk screen.
 
 i 9 4 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 On a pile of skins that lay over the shining, black- 
 lacquered floor sat the Ugly Dwarf, leering, yellow- 
 fanged. The bandages that had swathed his head 
 for so many months were in his hairy hand; he 
 tossed them in the air, caught at them. 
 
 "Thou knowest who I am?" snapped the baron, 
 falling quickly upon his knees before the deformed 
 figure. 
 
 "Aye," the dwarf replied. "You are the Baron 
 Matsuyama I know you I know Madame 
 Kin-no- Yaku I know them all. I could have told 
 you that many moons ago; but it was my broken 
 jaw and not my mind that would not let me speak 
 before. 
 
 "See, high excellency I talk quite well again, 
 do I not?" The crazy-looking creature worked his 
 jaw up and down like a hinge. 
 
 "Thou rememberest all?" the baron spoke quickly. 
 "The place the house the country? Thou wert 
 brought here by huntsmen who found thy apish 
 figure in the forest. 'I have found Rennoske,' 
 thou howlest. Then down upon thy face thou 
 fallest, and here thou hast lain speechless for a year 
 or more thy ugly jaw bound in clay." 
 
 "Aye, aye," the dwarf squealed. "All of that I 
 know hei! but those were days of terror. Could 
 I but see again the hand that hurled the stone 
 curse him would I "
 
 A LISTENING EAR 195 
 
 "Enough of that!" interrupted the baron with a 
 snarl. "Where is the Prince Rennoske?" 
 
 "The house stands upon a plateau," the dwarf 
 chuckled, "a mile or less from Takenaka, upon the 
 side of the road. One cannot mistake it, for before 
 the shoji are three round wells of stone." 
 
 Then the dwarf went into further details, and 
 the upshot of the matter was that his high excel- 
 lency went quickly back in his litter to the palace 
 grounds. He gathered together twenty of his best 
 soldiers and bade them go with all speed to the house 
 of one Miyoshi the Farmer and bring back the head 
 of a youth of twenty-one whom, they would find 
 there. 
 
 The baron went to tell his son; but His Supreme 
 Highness the Daimyo Kuroki Obuto lay in a drunken 
 stupor, so the father was obliged to keep his news 
 till the son should wake. 
 
 His high excellency had not long been gone from 
 the dwarf ere a face appeared from behind the silken 
 screen. It was the face of a woman, old and ugly; 
 though the cheeks were pink like a baby's, the eyes 
 bright like those of a girl of twenty, the hair black 
 and glossy. 
 
 "I have jewels and gold," she whined, kneeling 
 beside the dwarf. "I have golden chains and silver 
 bracelets. I have sweet maidens at my call. All 
 all will I give to thee, if thou wilt do as I ask!"
 
 196 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 " Hei, Madame Golden Glow," answered the 
 dwarf. "Brave words. I have ever been at your 
 command, slave and servant, to receive in reward 
 but a cuff and a blow. Rise up it is not meet 
 that you should kneel to me. What has come over 
 the world that things are upside down?" 
 
 The woman waved his words aside with impa- 
 tience. She went on again with her whine. 
 
 "Listen, ugly one. I heard from behind that 
 screen all that thou saidst to his high excellency. I 
 would go myself; but the kingdom I know not nor 
 the way to Takenaka. Show me the way and all 
 that I have promised and more shall be thine. 
 
 "Nay, look not so upon me. What shall the baron 
 give thee and I, returning with the prince's head, 
 will again find favor in his eyes. Rich shalt thou 
 be and dwell the rest of thy life in peace and com- 
 fort. Do as I ask. All my life long shall I bless 
 thee. Do as I ask!" 
 
 The dwarf grinned up at her. 
 
 "You cannot go like this, madame," he said. "All 
 the country would know and betray you." 
 
 "That I can arrange. This washes clean from my 
 face. I will plan all. I will arrange all. Wilt thou 
 do it?" she pleaded. 
 
 "What wilt thou give now?" 
 
 " See this chain of purest gold these rings 
 upon my fingers. Wilt thou show me the way?"
 
 A LISTENING EAR 197 
 
 "Aye." 
 
 The dwarf took the jewels, hobbled outside, and 
 buried them in a hole beneath a stone. While he 
 was gone, Madame Golden Glow washed the paint 
 clean from her face.
 
 Chapter XFI ,'" 
 
 A Kimono of White on a Maiden 
 
 ON the morning of the dwarfs awakening 
 Rennoske was half-way between the bloody 
 field of Hachinohe and the fishing village 
 of Boruku. 
 
 He had spent the night in one of the lonely sea- 
 shore huts with a boy of sixteen and his mother. 
 He had lain down on the mud floor and slept without 
 a tremor in a house he had bereft of a father and 
 two sons. 
 
 One might think that the mother, seeing there 
 before her the cause of her widowhood, helpless in 
 sleep, might revenge herself upon him. No such 
 thought came to the woman. Instead, Rennoske 
 was given the best of everything in the house, while 
 the boys kept watch at the door. 
 
 She remembered through her grief the words of 
 her lord that "the Little Warrior was great in the 
 land a helper of the afflicted." She respected 
 his opinions and carried out the wishes she knew 
 he would have had concerning her unbidden guest.
 
 A KIMONO OF WHITE 199 
 
 So in the morning she heated a tub of sea-water 
 and Rennoske bathed. She sent him on his way with 
 a bag of dried fish and some seaweed, and asked his 
 blessing. 
 
 Near Boruku he was forced to take another bath, 
 this time in cold water, kimono and all, for he saw 
 a troop of horsemen trotting up the sands, returning 
 from the village. What they saw was a black speck 
 some two hundred yards from the shore, thought it 
 a bird or a rock, and passed on. Being mounted and 
 armored, the sea held no charms for them anyway. 
 
 Rennoske took no chances, however. By a half- 
 mile swim he came to Boruku by way of the sandspit 
 where he had first discovered his strange skill as 
 a swordsman. There was a junk there, but it was 
 not the Maya Maru, so he gave it no thought. 
 
 But the fishermen, who had come down to the 
 spit to see the junk, were filled with consternation 
 when they saw their late leader rise godlike out of 
 the sea, dripping and smiling. 
 
 The fishermen of Boruku had heard of the Little 
 Warrior before they had seen him. Tales of him 
 had come through other mouths, the mouths of 
 ignorant men like themselves. It was not strange, 
 therefore, that these tales should be highly em- 
 bellished as they passed from mouth to mouth. 
 
 The Little Warrior could slay twenty men with 
 one stroke of his sword; he could swim the sea and
 
 200 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 defeat the porpoise in a race; he spoke the words of 
 the gods in short, he was a demigod himself. 
 
 As for his malady the peasants had their own 
 version and explanation for that. He talked with 
 the dead and found out from them what to do in the 
 future. In the minds of the ignorant there is no 
 hero like the hero of one's own making. 
 
 "Men of Boruku," he said, calmly facing them, 
 "defeat hath come upon us. There are missing 
 faces among you. Move warily, my brothers, the 
 Black Boar will rule now with a rod of iron. Twice 
 as hard will your way be. But fear not. I go where 
 all men may find me. 
 
 "The flower but sprouted and was withered by 
 the blast of winter. The root is there in the ground 
 and will grow again and bloom in victory. We shall 
 rise and overthrow the tyrant. When the call comes, 
 ye will find me ready to lead or to serve." 
 
 Forgotten was the newly arrived junk, forgotten 
 their unburied dead. They crowded about him. 
 One took the wet kimono from Rennoske's shoulders, 
 replacing it with his own. The Little Warrior was 
 soon on his way along the white road, the shouts of 
 "Long life!" ringing behind him. 
 
 Victory seemed nearer now. He had only one 
 regret on his way home. He despised himself for 
 having been weak enough to think of taking his own 
 life. He would return home and wait. If he were
 
 A KIMONO OF WHITE 201 
 
 not welcome there well, let that take care of itself 
 when it came. ^ 
 
 In the boglands through the woods he found a 
 man sitting upon the ground with an arrow in his 
 foot, unable to walk. He took out the festering 
 point, bathed the wound in the stream, and helped 
 the man to Takenaka. 
 
 There were greetings there from those that es- 
 caped. He spoke briefly and sincerely, then walked 
 to a shoji in a shaded dell near by where alone 
 now dwelt the Tapper of Laquer Trees. 
 
 The old man was seated on the ground under a 
 maple. Rennoske bowed, the man did likewise, 
 with deep reverence. They looked at each other in 
 silence. There was no resentment in the man's clear 
 eyes, though they must have read the news in 
 Rennoske's. 
 
 "They told me naught, the sixty who returned, 
 many with wounds," he said slowly. "They are all 
 slain, then, O leader?" 
 
 "All slain," answered Rennoske. "It seems hard 
 that I should return and tell this, but it comes to me 
 that the Matsuyama will yet fall at my hands." 
 
 "Surely they will," the man resumed, a ring in his 
 voice. "What was the need of your death? Your 
 cause was just, your purpose right. The gods, no 
 doubt, have spared you for another trial which, I 
 pray, will be soon. Did they die well?"
 
 202 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Aye, reverend sir. It is to them I owe my 
 life." 
 
 "That is well said and leaves me content. Eight 
 sons my wife bore me. All of them the Matsuyama 
 have slain because they were strong and resisted. 
 When you come again, having nothing else, I shall 
 give myself. Saianara, O leader!" 
 
 "With hearts as stanch as thine, the Matsuyama 
 will not long hold us in subjection. Saianara, 
 reverend sir!" 
 
 Rennoske bowed again and turned upon his 
 heel. As he passed along the road he saw many 
 signs of the havoc his warlike spirit had wrought. 
 Wives were in the fields without their husbands. 
 Oxen stood idle at the wagon sheds. Yet many must 
 have escaped. 
 
 He saw the peasants on the steep slope of the 
 brown and green hills. There would be always a 
 wave of the hand, a bow to the earth. The simple 
 devotion touched him and made him more than ever 
 desire to lead them to the victory he felt sure must 
 one day be his. 
 
 And now he was in sight of the zigzag path that 
 led to the only home he had ever known. In the 
 red light of the sunset he could plainly see the house. 
 What was there so unfamiliar about it? Why were 
 there so many moving figures by the stone wells? 
 
 So weary was his spirit and so heavy his steps that
 
 A KIMONO OF WHITE 203 
 
 it was nightfall before he reached the path, and 
 toiling up, sent the pebbles clattering down. As he 
 reached the summit where the by-path branched off, 
 he saw that the shoji walls of paper were already in 
 their grooves, and there was much light within. 
 There were moving figures on the translucent screen. 
 He walked slower still. 
 
 What was the unfamiliar thing, and where? He 
 looked all about him, at the cherry trees, the garden, 
 the one, two there it was, by the third stone well. 
 He could distinguish it plainly, although the light 
 was faint, a great heaping of branches and twigs. 
 He knew what it was the funeral bonfire. Who 
 was dead Kiku? 
 
 A laugh from within the house made him creep 
 closer softly. There could be no death within, then. 
 He stood outside the paper and listened, feeling like 
 a son coming home to rob his father. Then he 
 heard a voice that rooted him to the spot. 
 
 "We were far out at sea when we discovered the 
 leak, O my father, and it was then too late. The 
 ship was full of water and sinking fast. We made 
 ourselves a raft and launched it with all the pro- 
 visions we could find. 
 
 "On this craft we drifted many days. At last 
 we were picked up by a junk. God of the sea, our 
 joy was short-lived! Our rescuers were our cap- 
 tors, pirates of China, O my father. They took
 
 204 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 us to their own land, and there we were sold into 
 slavery. 
 
 "For two years have I, once captain of mine own 
 ship, been a sandal-fastening, old woman's litter- 
 bearing dog, in the palace of a mandarin. But I 
 swim well, O my father; they were fools to give me 
 a pole upon the riverboats when there were so many 
 sea-going craft about ho! ho!" 
 
 Rennoske strode boldly to the door and slid it 
 back with a rattle. He stepped into the house and 
 stood there with folded arms across his chest looking 
 straight into the eyes of the man in blue who squatted 
 on the floor. 
 
 "Thou hast long ago invited me to thy wedding," 
 he said. "I am here, Osaki!" 
 
 The seal-hunter, thinner, a few more lines about 
 his eyes, sprang to his feet. 
 
 "The unknown Samurai," he whispered; but 
 none heard him, for the crash of a falling screen 
 made every head turn. Miyoshi and Osaki had a 
 flash of something white, and Rennoske found the 
 yielding body of Kiku folded in his arms. 
 
 "Thou art safe, Little Warrior," he heard her sob 
 on his breast. "Thou art safe! I thought they had 
 slain thee. The gods be thanked thou art safe!" 
 
 In the ecstasy of that moment Rennoske forgot 
 everything, forgot that the eyes of Kiku's father 
 and the eyes of Kiku's betrothed were upon him.
 
 A KIMONO OF WHITE 205 
 
 "I am safe, gentlest flower," he whispered. "All 
 horror, all pain, all misery is forgotten when thou 
 clingest thus to me. Stay thus ever, gentlest 
 flower." 
 
 Kiku sobbed and clung. 
 
 "How now, swearer of oaths!" boomed Osaki. 
 "How now, raiser of rice? Is this how thou 
 keepest a promise? Because I am gone two 
 years instead of one, because I bring no pelts of the 
 seal, so quickly dost thou forget who is the promised 
 husband of thy daughter? Aye, that thou canst 
 gaze with such doddering eyes upon that!" 
 
 And Osaki pointed a scornful finger at the two, 
 who, oblivious to their surroundings, were still locked 
 in each other's arms. 
 
 "Thou art wrong, Osaki," cringed Miyoshi. 
 "Thou art wrong. Does not my daughter even now 
 wear the white robe of mourning as a sign she is 
 dead to us? Does not the bonfire of purification 
 stand ready to be lighted outside my house, even as 
 if she were borne from us a corpse ? 
 
 "Do not thy father, and thy mother, and 
 thy guests even now heat the sakkee for the nine 
 times nine times at thy house? I have broken 
 no oath, Osaki. I swear it by the spirits of mine 
 ancestors!" 
 
 "Then yon fatherless, unknown dog has played 
 me false!" snarled the seal-hunter. "He has stolen
 
 206 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 the girl's heart behind my back. Traitor to me, to 
 thee, and to the people that he is!" 
 
 Rennoske tore Kiku's arms from him and with a 
 single catlike step stood facing Osaki. 
 
 "Take back those words, base-born sailor," he 
 said in a low, threatening voice. "Take them back 
 lest I thrust them down thy sakkee-dnnking throat." 
 
 "Not a word," answered Osaki. "Not if you were 
 the son of every demon that rides the typhoon. A 
 traitor you are. I have said it!" 
 
 Like two brown bears they clinched. Kiku 
 screamed; Miyoshi stood speechless, while his wife 
 clung about his knees. 
 
 Round the room the two men wrestled. The 
 vase in the alcove fell clattering to the floor, the 
 house shook as they swung each other about, 
 straw-shod feet scraping, kimono sleeves flying. 
 First, the pale, oval face was thrust backward, then 
 the brown. 
 
 Then slowly, slowly, the blue-clad figure bent 
 backward from the waist. With a mighty twist it 
 was sent reeling to the floor. Rennoske sprang at 
 the sailor's throat and thrust his knee upon the 
 heaving chest. Still as a statue he held him there, 
 his own breath coming fast. 
 
 The seal-hunter was helpless, for he had fallen 
 with his arms behind him, and they were held back 
 by his own weight. Kiku was trembling violently;
 
 A KIMONO OF WHITE 207 
 
 Miyoshi and his wife stood speechless in open-eyed 
 terror. 
 
 "Hunter of the Seal," came Rennoske's voice, 
 steel-cold, "the weakling is sometimes strong, the 
 imbecile sometimes brother to the tiger. There is 
 nought between thee and death but my five fingers. 
 Thou art on a troubled sea in a boat of rice 
 paper, Osaki so ? Yet it is not thus I would win, 
 O Kiku San, daughter of my father. For her honor, 
 then, I spare thee. Rise, Hunter of the Seal!" 
 
 And Rennoske took his hands from the other's 
 throat and his knee from his chest and rose himself 
 with a smile. 
 
 It was some moments before the sailor could 
 speak. He sat up, rolling his head from side to side. 
 Then he got to his feet and faced Rennoske. 
 
 "Should we ever again come face to face, O 
 unknown man," he said with smooth politeness; 
 "should it so happen that my fingers were about 
 your throat, I fear I should be honorably obliged to 
 press hard aye, to slay you." 
 
 Rennoske bowed low. 
 
 "I accept your challenge, O Osaki," he answered 
 with equal suavity. "Yet, perhaps I will not inter- 
 rupt an honorable ceremony of marriage. The nine 
 cups of wine are ready at your house. The guests 
 are assembled, the samisen plays. My father awaits 
 the lighting of the funeral fire. The bride wears the
 
 208 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 white of mourning. I stand not in your way. Why 
 do you take her not?" 
 
 The veins in Osaki's neck swelled under the taunt- 
 ing words, yet he controlled himself and answered, 
 smiling insolently: 
 
 "To take her now would be to take her as your 
 gift, and gifts are not welcome by me at your hands. 
 The daughter of Miyoshi may take off her kimono 
 of white. There shall be no marriage between her 
 and me until the stain is wiped from my name!" 
 
 "Gods of my ancestors!" cried Miyoshi. "Dost 
 thou mean I am dishonored? Then shall death be 
 my daughter's bridegroom." 
 
 "Dishonored you are not, O my father!" answered 
 Rennoske proudly. "That I swear." 
 
 "Then what means Osaki?" questioned the 
 farmer. "Why does he refuse my daughter's hand? 
 What is thy word, pauper and foundling?" 
 
 "Softly," said Osaki to the elder man. "The 
 unknown man is mine enemy; I would slay him if I 
 could. Yet his word is sacred, and thou must be- 
 lieve, O Farmer of the Three Wells. To thee, to 
 thy wife, to thee, unknown sir, and to thee, O Kiku 
 San, until I return again, Saianara!" 
 
 And Osaki, bowing to all, took his broken fan from 
 his sash, snapped it open, and walked slowly through 
 the open door. 
 
 All thoughts of the encounter were wiped clear
 
 A KIMONO OF WHITE 209 
 
 from Rennoske's brain. Why should his foster- 
 father believe him? Did Osaki know who he was, 
 or merely that his word should be taken? 
 
 He remembered how the sailor had changed that 
 day upon the Maya Maru when he had mentioned 
 the two swords. Was he, then, really a Samurai? 
 If so, whose son was he and how came he here? He 
 stood wrapped in thoughts that baffled. 
 
 When at length he came to himself the inside walls 
 were in place, Kiku and her mother were behind 
 them. He was alone with his foster-father. 
 
 "It is best I go, O my father. I fear I am no 
 longer welcome under your roof." 
 
 "Welcome thou art," answered Miyoshi. 
 
 After all, Osaki was gone, the boy was strong and 
 willing, and doubtless the warlike ideas were out of 
 his head now. 
 
 "There is no quarrel between us. I have taken thy 
 word. Moreover, I swore to keep thee until thou 
 wert sent for. My oath is as sacred as thine." 
 
 "I thank thee, my father," Rennoske answered. 
 "This is the only home I know. Those under its 
 roof do I love. You are my father I will obey." 
 
 With his brain reeling amid thoughts of swords, 
 rebellion, Samurai, conjectures as to his parentage, 
 Osaki's words, and the soft whisperings of Kiku, 
 Rennoske slept again under the roof of the Farmer 
 of the Three Wells.
 
 Chapter XFII 
 
 Two Rice Plants "Torn up by 
 the Roots 
 
 RENNOSKE was awakened by the usual 
 banging and scraping that accompanied 
 the taking down of the outside shoji walls. 
 He sprang up, went outside for his morning bath, 
 and donned his gray cotton shuban and the hara- 
 gakke, the short, coarse coat, the badge of peasantry. 
 
 He went about his old work of chopping down a 
 tree with the same gaiety he had always had at the 
 task. Yet, while he was about it, his brain was 
 busy. A gigantic task lay before him. 
 
 He had worked in secret for a year to overthrow a 
 dynasty. Like a pricked bubble, his plan was less 
 than nothing. Yet, by Inari, the dynasty must be 
 overthrown ! 
 
 How was it to be done? He had less in the way 
 of arms and men than before and no one to help 
 him. The Matsuyama, having overcome one re- 
 bellion, would be on the lookout and, naturally, 
 crush the beginning of another; aye, they might
 
 TORN UP BY THE ROOTS 211 
 
 even put a price upon his head and hunt him 
 throughout the land. All this he granted. 
 
 But there was a paramount thought. The people 
 were crushed the people looked to him to lead 
 them. Lead them he must, though his head roll 
 for it. 
 
 How was it to be done he knew not. But it 
 would be done and he would do it, the Baron Matsu- 
 yama, the Black Boar, and all the armored hire- 
 lings against him notwithstanding. So much for 
 the prince in him. 
 
 The birds sang, "Thou shalt do it"; the mountain 
 torrent roared, "Thou shalt do it"; the tree crashed 
 to the ground under a mighty blow from his ax, 
 shrieking as it fell, "Thou shalt do it!" 
 
 He dragged,it down the slope, a far different young 
 man from the one who sat in the forest these three 
 days back with a sword at his own breast. 
 
 They sat down to a meager breakfast his foster- 
 father and mother, Kiku, and himself. Everything 
 was the same as it was before the rebellion or the 
 coming of Osaki. 
 
 To say Miyoshi was pleased with the outcome of 
 affairs would be putting it falsely. He had still a 
 daughter in the house who should by now have been 
 a wife. He had his foster-son back again, though 
 different a leader of an army, the conqueror of 
 Osaki. There could be no more talk of cuffing
 
 212 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 about the ears. The farmer, who had once scorned 
 and laughed at the boy, now feared him with a 
 superstitious fear. Like the rest of his clan, how- 
 ever, Miyoshi was a fatalist. The lad was here 
 the best should be made of it hei! the gods abused 
 him! 
 
 "It is time for the transplanting, son," he said 
 after the meal. "Already are we more than a 
 week behind." 
 
 "It shall be done, O my father," Rennoske replied, 
 wondering at the old man's mild tone. Work was 
 work, after all, and he must do it, if he would eat 
 and live. 
 
 All morning long the four labored, ankle-deep, in 
 the rice fields. They returned to the house for a 
 frugal meal at noon; then again to the fields and 
 work. Once Rennoske stood up straight, for the 
 pain in his back was great from long bending. His 
 finger-tips, too, were shriveled by long immersion 
 in the water. Kiku stood beside him. Like a flash 
 her position in this tangle came to him. 
 
 Farther than ever from him now she was he 
 knew that. Osaki was gone, stung by a taunt. He, 
 in his excess of sudden jealousy, had flung the girl 
 in the seal-hunter's face. Osaki had retaliated by 
 refusing her and challenging him. 
 
 Could he now take what he had offered to his 
 rival with scorn? Then, too, the sailor had the
 
 TORN UP BY THE ROOTS 213 
 
 whiphand over him. He had not refused the girl 
 he was still her betrothed. The oath he had not 
 asked be taken back. 
 
 "There shall be no marriage between her and me 
 until the stain is wiped from my name," the seal- 
 hunter had said. It was clear the seal-hunter be- 
 lieved the marriage some time would take place. 
 Thus Rennoske saw the thing in its true light. The 
 victory last night had been his; the triumph today 
 was Osaki's. 
 
 "Thine eyes are clearer than mine," said the 
 farmer suddenly. "Who dost thou see about our 
 house ? " 
 
 Rennoske shaded his eyes and looked toward the 
 cottage. 
 
 "There is an old woman I see plainly," he re- 
 plied. "The other might be a boy by his stature, 
 yet his shoulders are too broad, and his arms 
 hang to his knees like an ape's. An odd creature, 
 surely." 
 
 "I know of no such pair," said the farmer. "What 
 do they seem to do?" 
 
 "They look about, O my father, as if in search of 
 some one." 
 
 "Hei! Perhaps they would buy rice plants or 
 have lost their way." 
 
 Miyoshi stepped out of the ditch and ambled 
 through the grass.
 
 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Come, woman," he called to his wife, "thy help 
 may be needed." 
 
 They had no sooner rounded the boulder than 
 Rennoske bent over to the silent, stooping Kiku 
 San, and in the ardor of his youth his words came 
 in a passionate stream: 
 
 "My gentlest flower, it is but just that thou 
 shouldst know the joy that came to me when thou 
 didst show to me where thy heart was. Long have 
 I loved thee, and in silence, for I knew thou wert the 
 promised bride of another. 
 
 "Honor closed my lips, Kiku San, and I thought 
 thy grief was for Osaki, when it was but fear that I 
 should be slain. I thank thee for thy love! It shall 
 keep me company many a weary day. I know now 
 that my love is returned." 
 
 She looked up at him smiling, yet there were tears 
 in the smile. She must have divined by his manner 
 more than his words what was in his mind. She 
 answered sweetly: 
 
 "Why must you go, Little Warrior, and whither? 
 Is it not pleasant here? It is not for me to ask; I 
 am but a woman. I would not have you go." 
 
 "Yet go I must, soon or late, gentlest flower. 
 Defeat came upon me in the field. I am a man, 
 Kiku San. Shall the people rise and point fingers 
 at me, crying, 'Coward'? Nay, till that defeat is 
 turned to victory must I wander far. Wouldst have
 
 TORN UP BY THE ROOTS 215 
 
 a poltroon for a husband? By Inari, nay! Tri- 
 umphant I return or never. This is my Saianara!" 
 
 "Then why do you leave me here to be the bride 
 of Osaki, whom I hate?" questioned the trembling 
 girl. He scowled at the name. She saw her words 
 had struck, and followed her vantage: 
 
 "Why do you fear him? Twice have you van- 
 quished him in fair fight. Man to man he is no 
 match for you." 
 
 " Fear him ? It is to meet him I go. Thou know- 
 est full well he durst not touch me while I am yet 
 under my father's roof." 
 
 "And you will think of me when afar, Little 
 Warrior?" 
 
 "Think of thee, gentlest flower," he said, and there 
 was tenderness in his voice. "When the sun shines 
 golden on the rice fields; when the red moon of 
 autumn turns the spray from the mountain torrent 
 into a thousand tiny rubies; when the heron flies 
 across the sea and the air is sweet with the salt and 
 the seaweed; when the soft spring rain scatters 
 pink the petals of the cherry blossoms; when the 
 chrysanthemums nod red, yellow, and purple in the 
 November breeze, then will I think of thee, O Kiku 
 San." 
 
 She would have spoken a reply; she might have 
 told him many things, many things she could have 
 done for him, for there was nothing she could not
 
 2i6 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 have done at that moment. But Kiku was unlearned 
 and unlettered. 
 
 She could not tell her love as he could. But it 
 was there, overwhelmingly there. She saw how 
 hard the battle would be with him gone. He was a 
 man. His sword, his strong arm might hew down 
 barriers. He needed but to find Osaki, challenge and 
 kill him or be killed. Either way there was action, 
 strength, with a ring of chance about it, while she 
 must fight the woman's silent battle. 
 
 Should Osaki return and say, "Woman, the 
 bridal feast awaits thee," she must come. If her 
 father bade her marry Osaki, this, that, or the other 
 man, she knew she must obey or be driven out to 
 starvation or a life of disgrace. 
 
 But he was still there before her, her Little War- 
 rior, and like a thirsty soul she drank him in with 
 her eyes. He, too, was silent. Her beauty came 
 suddenly upon him, for she shone now in the glow 
 of his love. Thus they stood, ankle-deep in the 
 water, as if each looked a sublime thing, seen for 
 the first time. 
 
 The girl turned quickly at the shound of a shrill 
 voice. Rennoske turned, too. The old woman he 
 had seen by the cottage was tottering along the path 
 toward him with the aid of a crooked staff, while 
 Miyoshi showed her the way. Rennoske looked at 
 her puzzled, then Kiku saw his face change.
 
 TORN UP BY THE ROOTS 217 
 
 A look of horror came into his eyes, his jaw worked 
 convulsively. She saw that he was not looking at 
 the crone. What was there about the shambling 
 thing that came behind her? Where had she seen 
 it before? Then she remembered. It was but a 
 while after the Boys' Festival, when she had told 
 Rennoske of her attempt to sink the Maya, Maru. 
 It was the Ugly Dwarf Rennoske had rolled the 
 stone down upon. 
 
 She recalled the imbecile fit that followed. Surely 
 it was coming on again she thought, as she watched 
 his trembling jaw. 
 
 The old woman was now within ten feet of them. 
 She was dressed in a kimono of coarse, fawn-colored 
 silk, with a sash of darker brown. It was the costume 
 typical of a merchant's wife, or of a pilgrim to a 
 Shinto shrine. Her hair was a streaked gray, her 
 face covered with a network of wrinkles that criss- 
 crossed each other. It was a face unadorned and 
 ugly. Taken from its frame of silk and jeweled 
 gewgaws, washed clean of its paint, it was the face 
 of Madame Golden Glow, courtezan of the Matzu- 
 yama. 
 
 "The thousand shades of our ancestors be 
 praised!" she shrieked, looking straight at Ren- 
 noske. "It is he! It is he!" And with a yell she 
 fell face downward at his feet. 
 
 "How now, Little Warrior," called the farmer,
 
 218 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 coming up. "Why starest thou at the swooning 
 body of thy mother? Is it possible that thou 
 knowest her not?" 
 
 "My mother?" gasped Rennoske. "My mother, 
 say you ? " 
 
 "Surely," answered Miyoshi, "or so she says, and 
 hath walked eighteen miles since yesterday, all the 
 way from Takaguru, where a neighbor hath seen 
 and recognized thee coming from the battlefield. 
 Lift her up, unnatural son; lift her up!" 
 
 "And what may that be?" 
 
 Rennoske pointed at the figure of the dwarf, who 
 squatted under a pine near by, one great hairy arm 
 embracing his bow-legs, which were clad in long, 
 white drawers, cross-garted with a black, silken 
 rope, while with the other he fanned his hideous 
 face with his tycoon. 
 
 "For myself I know not," resumed the farmer; 
 "for so ugly a thing I have never seen before. 
 Ask thou the woman. See, she revives." 
 
 The old crone had indeed raised her head, then her 
 body, so that she knelt upon the ground looking up 
 into Rennoske's face. With a wail she put out a 
 wrinkled hand and touched his knee. 
 
 He sprang back quickly and stared down at her, 
 his lip between trembling thumb and forefinger. 
 The woman raised her hands to heaven, then crossing 
 the skinny arms on her breast, she rocked to and fro.
 
 TORN UP BY THE ROOTS 219 
 
 "E-e-e-ah!" she wailed. "Mine own, my lost 
 Kojuro knows me not. He knows me not! My 
 boy knows me not! Knows not the face that looked 
 upon him as he smiled, a babe in mine arms. Oh, 
 wo!" 
 
 "Who is yon apelike thing, O woman?" Ren- 
 noske managed to blurt out. "Who is he, and 
 why do I fear him?" 
 
 "Alas!" she cried, her rocking now ceased. "He 
 knows not Kano, poor, misshaped Kano, his own 
 blood-brother." 
 
 Rennoske laughed wildly. 
 
 "That my brother! How comes it, then, that he 
 is crooked while I am straight? If he is my brother, 
 we are as unlike as the pine and the apple tree." 
 
 "What has come over thy brain, my son," the 
 woman went on, "that thou rememberest not the 
 deed that made him what he is? 'Twas thy hand 
 that misshaped him. Thou wert but twelve years 
 old and he nineteen, yet thou hatest him because thy 
 father loved him best. 
 
 * Can it be thou dost not recall the day thou 
 hurlest him from a high cliff and broke his legs? 
 Surely thou rememberest that, and the flight from 
 us for fear of thy father's wrath ? But come home, 
 Kojuro, all is forgiven. Thy father soon dies 
 come home!" 
 
 "Threw me upon a jagged pine stump, breaking
 
 220 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 my jaw," hissed the dwarf, "while a great stone fell 
 with me and made this hump upon my crooked 
 back. But I forgive thee, Kojuro I forgive thee!" 
 
 Rennoske stamped his foot and shook his fist at 
 the grinning, abortive creature. 
 
 "Nay," he cried, "thou art not my brother, 
 ugly thing!" 
 
 "Is it so?" squealed the dwarf. "Then why dost 
 thou fear me? Why didst thou hurl the stone down 
 upon me these twelve moons back? Aye, hurled a 
 stone upon me even from where thou now standest, 
 cracking my poor skull that I lay like death. And 
 when I came to myself, in the house of my mother, 
 I was dumb from my broken jaw so that I could not 
 tell where I had seen thee. Thou hatest me, as our 
 mother says. The signs prove it!" 
 
 Rennoske stood puzzled. He turned to the 
 woman. 
 
 "I tell thee thou art not my mother," he said 
 with shaking voice. "Every drop of my blood 
 cries out against it. Would I not know them 
 if my brain were fettered by a thousand chains?" 
 he asked, turning to Miyoshi. "Would I not know 
 them, O my father? You know who brought me 
 speak!" 
 
 The farmer's brows were drawn together. He 
 looked hard at his foster-son. 
 
 "It is true, O my son," he said solemnly, "that
 
 TORN UP BY THE ROOTS 221 
 
 thou wert given to me by an oldish man, who bore 
 himself like a soldier, and had no look of these." 
 
 "What said he?" queried the woman sharply. 
 
 " In faith I recall not now." 
 
 "Think, honorable sir." 
 
 "So I do remember his words: 'Keep him till 
 they come for him,' and again: ' Saianara y Little 
 Warrior,' and so he died." 
 
 "Even so," said the dwarf. "It was Hara the 
 Fisher. Remember, O my mother, he returned not 
 to his wife and five little ones?" 
 
 "That is not the name," said Rennoske, with 
 straightened shoulders. "The man was a soldier, 
 didst thou not hear ? Hara the Fisher, indeed ! Thy 
 lie-loom weaves poor cloth, ape face." 
 
 Madame Kin-no- Yaku, plotter and power behind 
 a throne, cast a swift, silencing glance at the dwarf. 
 
 "How canst thou be so stupid, Kano?" she 
 snapped. "Hara was lost in the great typhoon. 
 Did I not see his body washed upon the beach? 
 Another carried thee away. One Tobiero, the tea- 
 planter, e'en saw him with thee upon his back. Thou 
 surely rememberest the name of " 
 
 Madame Golden Glow lowered her head as if she 
 watched the turn of a card on which her whole 
 fortune was staked. Then with a reckless ring in 
 her voice she spoke the word: "Hida!" 
 
 Rennoske gave a joyful cry.
 
 222 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Hida that was the name! We shall engrave 
 it in golden letters upon the house shrine, O my 
 father. Tell me more of him; tell me more of him, 
 and I will bless thee." 
 
 In his anxiety he bent down and laid an impulsive 
 hand on her shoulder. Her manner changed. She 
 cooed pleasantly: 
 
 "As we go along, Kojuro, as we go along. Lift 
 up thy mother so ! I will tell thee of Hida as we 
 go along." 
 
 Rennoske looked about him in an odd panic. 
 There stood his foster-father, silent and frowning. 
 The dwarf, his tycoon on his head, leaned grinning 
 against the tree. The old woman stood up, bearing 
 her weight upon the crooked staff. 
 
 And there, a rice plant in either hand as she had 
 pulled them up, her eyes staring, stood Kiku, ankle- 
 deep in the water. Rennoske turned toward her. 
 He strove to smile and hide the sadness that clutched 
 icy at his heart. 
 
 "Farewell, gentlest flower," he said softly. "I 
 knew I should go. Whence I know not, yet it is 
 best I do. May the spirits of thine ancestors and 
 mine watch over thee till we meet once more be 
 it soon or late, here or beyond." 
 
 Her voice came like that of a sleep-walker, a 
 sibilant whisper: 
 
 "You go then, Little Warrior! The words you
 
 TORN UP BY THE ROOTS 223 
 
 spoke to me shall ring in my ears like the sweet 
 tinkling of far-away temple bells at twilight. 
 Saianara!" 
 
 She stood like a figure of wood, while the sun shone 
 on the glossiness of her raven hair. 
 
 "Come then, strangers," said Miyoshi. "Thou 
 wilt surely partake of an humble cup of tea at my 
 hands while I bid farewell to my son, for a son he 
 has indeed been to me." And he led the way along 
 the path. 
 
 Madame Golden Glow and the dwarf followed, 
 while Rennoske trailed behind with bowed head, not 
 daring to turn his eyes again upon the rice fields, 
 where the sun changed the waters into ribbons of 
 orange.
 
 Chapter XF III f 
 
 A Deserted Shoji upon the 
 Marsh 
 
 E-E-E-AH! How my feet burn! How my 
 back aches ! And thou tellest me there are 
 more of these hateful bogs of black mud 
 with the sharp grass that sprouts up as from the head 
 of an unshorn child ! Gods of my ancestors dost 
 thou call this a bridge ? Nay, I cannot cannot 
 cross it! 
 
 "Give me thy hand so carefully, carefully, 
 Kojuro! 'Tis as slippery as a grape floating in 
 honey. So so the gods be praised I am 
 across. E-e-e-ah! Here let us sit, Kojuro. I 
 must rest. I shall surely die if I go a step farther. 
 E-e-e-ah!" 
 
 All this from the ancient crone, moans and lament- 
 ings. It was at the same log bridge over the rushing 
 torrent that had twice been so fateful to Rennoske. 
 
 He thought of the first time as he sat there silent 
 upon a mossy stone; but the memory recalled Kiku 
 again, raising the sadness in his heart to overflowing.
 
 A DESERTED SHOJI 225 
 
 He reached out and pulled a switch from a hazel- 
 bush, and with it cut viciously at the nodding butter- 
 cups, as if they were the heads of the Matsuyama. 
 
 He was alone with the old woman, because of the 
 fact that the dwarf had gone ahead to prepare for a 
 lodging for the night, as the distance to his new home 
 was too great for them to travel in a single day. 
 This the old woman had told him, along with many 
 other trivial things that interested him not at all. 
 
 The departure of the dwarf had not bothered him; 
 he could spare his company surely. It was enough 
 that he must listen to the complaining hag that sat 
 beside him. 
 
 Not one word had been said about Hida, not one 
 syllable of the news Rennoske longed to hear. He 
 had questioned in vain. There was talk of the 
 illness of his father, the badness of the tea crop, 
 the dwarf's terrible struggle against death. Of the 
 man that had brought him to the home of Miyoshi 
 there was ever silence or a whining complaint. 
 
 "Is that the sun I see slanting through the 
 maples?" said the woman at length. "Come, we 
 must onward, Kojuro, if we would reach the house 
 of Okubo ere nightfall. E-e-e-ah! More bogs 
 more filthy pools! Let me lean on thy shoulder, 
 Kojuro so we go onward. 
 
 "Thou art a brave son and strong. Thy father 
 should turn to health again at sight of thee. E-e-e-ah!
 
 226 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 How my feet burn! How my back aches! It is not 
 often I come so far; but it is worth the trouble to 
 find thee, Kojuro, it is worth the trouble." 
 
 The woman whining, the man silent, the strange 
 pair made their way slowly through and out of the 
 woods to the white sandy road. Purple were the 
 rushes, and cattails beside it, for the sun had sunk. 
 The air was damp with the salt air; heat lightning 
 flashed in a bank of sullen clouds to northward. 
 Still they walked on, slowly, slowly, slowly. 
 
 "We are here at length," called out the woman 
 suddenly. "Gods of my ancestors, it pleases me! 
 See, Kano awaits us. This way, Kojuro." 
 
 The old crone turned sharply to the right and 
 parted the tall green rushes. Rennoske, following, 
 saw that the mud below his feet was covered by 
 boards that zigzagged in and out, making a path. 
 Even in the dim light he noticed that none of these 
 boards matched each other, some being old, others 
 new. They were clean and unsoiled by footmarks, as 
 if freshly laid there. The woman ahead of him he 
 could scarcely see, for the tall reeds that grew head- 
 high closed over the crazy path. He wondered at 
 the woman's words as he carefully picked his way. 
 How had she seen the dwarf? He could see nothing 
 but reeds, sullen sky, and black ooze. 
 
 A sharp turn and he came upon a round clearing 
 in the wall of nodding green and cattails, in the
 
 A DESERTED SHOJI 227 
 
 center of which stood the house, or rather what was 
 left of it, for it was in a state of dilapidation. The 
 platform stood upon three rotted tree trunks, sunk 
 deep into the slime. Where should have been the 
 fourth post, the boards sloped downward in a rickety 
 confusion. 
 
 The roof was supported on four worm-eaten pillars, 
 all of them at crazy angles to each other. The 
 thatch was ragged and torn, filled with rotting birds' 
 nests and the seaweed blown by the storms of years. 
 
 Upon the top step of a ramshackle tree sat the 
 dwarf, still fanning himself with his tycoon, still 
 leering, blue-gummed. Behind him stood another 
 man. Broad of shoulder, deep of chest he was; his 
 bloodshot eyes twinkled close to a flat nose, while a 
 wicked mouth smiled in a square jaw. 
 
 "Welcome, O my mother," chuckled the dwarf, 
 "and a welcome to thee, O Kojuro, my brother! 
 Welcome to the humble house of Okubo. We await 
 supper." 
 
 Okubo never extended a welcome himself, but spat 
 into the mire. Rennoske followed the woman up 
 the creaking steps and on into the house. Here an 
 odd sight greeted him. Hanging from the four 
 corners of the roof a ceiling cloth bellied inward. 
 This was not unusual; it was the cleanliness of it 
 that caught his eye, for it shone snow-white against 
 the cobweb-covered rafters and dust-thick eaves.
 
 228 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 In silence they sat down before their tables. 
 Again Rennoske was struck by the strangeness of 
 the dishes, for some were of new lacquerware, others 
 old, scarred, and wrinkled, and some of chipped and 
 cracked porcelain. 
 
 The meal was cold and tasteless, soup, bamboo 
 sprouts, and a raw herring soaked in soy. Rennoske 
 ate little, contenting himself with a morsel of fish 
 and a mouthful of tepid tea. 
 
 He sat motionless while the woman ordered the 
 man about. He could plainly see by the fellow's 
 manner that Okubo was not Okubo at all, any 
 more than it was his house, for he spat most un- 
 familiarly on the new-laid matting. Yet, after all, 
 the woman might be his mother. Had she not 
 known the blessed name that recalled distant and 
 sweet memories? 
 
 She was tired and fretted after the long journey. 
 Perhaps on the morrow she would tell him more. 
 Supposing he was her son? Did she not speak of 
 a tea plantation that his father owned? That 
 might mean a home and an inheritance for him 
 and then? 
 
 The vista widened and the way lay clear. First 
 there would be another rebellion, with his father's 
 money to help him. A new ruler chosen and the 
 Matsuyama overthrown, he would return, find 
 Osaki, and challenge him. Once again at his
 
 A DESERTED SHOJI 229 
 
 mercy, the seal-hunter could scarcely refuse to with- 
 draw. He did not want to kill him, though if it 
 came to that 
 
 Honored by the people, hailed as their deliverer, 
 returning home in triumph with many honors, a 
 home to bring his bride to, surely with all this, 
 Miyoshi could not fail to change his tune. 
 
 Thus sped his mind, building air-castles, painting 
 pictures of himself and Kiku, rose-tinted days and 
 full moonlit nights under the wistaria. 
 
 His dreams were interrupted by a banging and 
 scraping that told him it was time for the shoji 
 walls to be put up. He rose and watched the dwarf 
 and the so-called Okubo slide them in. They fitted 
 badly; the grooves were damp and splintery. 
 
 At length he found himself in the little paper- 
 enclosed square that was to be his room for the night. 
 Okubo had lighted his metal lantern with the many 
 holes. He could see the spotted and streaked light 
 as it moved about weirdly on the paper. He heard 
 whispering, then the dwarfs voice: 
 
 "Here is thy bedding, O Kojuro!" A soft thump 
 sounded on the floor at his feet. He picked up the 
 wadded cloth and, calling his thanks, spread it out 
 upon the floor. 
 
 "Thou art welcome," the hissing croak came back. 
 "I wish thee a long sleep, Kojuro, my brother a 
 long sleep and a deep one."
 
 230 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 He heard Okubo blow out the light. He was in 
 darkness. He lay flat on his back for an hour or 
 two, listening to the crickets making the gacha-gacha, 
 the simple peasant's well-loved harmony. " j 
 
 A far-away owl hooted once twice thrice. 
 He grew tired counting the melancholy notes. 
 Now came the nightingale, its voice trembling over 
 the waste. It stopped. 
 
 Another owl sounded nearer then the far-away 
 one again. The crickets chirped on, the deep bass 
 of a frog adding to the lulling din. 
 
 But there was no sleep for Rennoske this night. 
 Many had been the mental shocks of the day 
 his parting from Kiku 3 the old woman's startling 
 news, the sight of the dwarf, the mention of that 
 memory-rattling name. Now it was the strangeness 
 of this that disturbed his thoughts, bringing back 
 that odd, sickening whirling of his brain and the 
 pain that went with it. Mentally he wrestled with 
 the thing he feared his thinking kept his mind 
 clear. 
 
 From whence came that light? He sat bolt 
 upright in a panic then laughed at himself. It 
 was a great jagged patch of glow upon the ceiling 
 cloth. How silly! It was the moon, of course, 
 shining through a ragged hole in the roof that the 
 ceiling cloth covered. The light was obscured, then 
 came again brighter than before. There must be
 
 A DESERTED SHOJI 231 
 
 clouds flying before the face of the moon, he 
 thought. 
 
 It came a third time, still brighter. Surely that 
 was not there before! It shone through the ceiling 
 and on down the side of the shoji. At first it seemed 
 like the moving shadow of a spider, this thin line of 
 black; but he knew then that it moved too straight 
 for the insect. He must needs wait now until the 
 light came again. It seemed an hour at last it 
 shone, bright, steady, silvery. 
 
 The thin black line was no moving shadow of a 
 spider. It had reached the floor. Then, too, the 
 line remained where it was; a shadow would have 
 moved with the object. It was running horizontal 
 now, at right angles with the first. Clearly, dis- 
 tinctly, he saw it in the soft lunar rays. It was the 
 sharp point of a keen-edged knife! 
 
 A man was cutting through the thin paper wall. 
 Why could Rennoske not creep from his couch, 
 stand beside the square, and strangle the marauder 
 as he crawled in? 
 
 It was this other horrible, stifling thing that crept 
 through his muscles like ice, pressed down his chest 
 like a load of lead, deadened his thoughts like the 
 fumes of opium this disease this death-sleep 
 this cataleptic terror! 
 
 Suddenly from the other side of the room came a 
 faint tearing sound; and there, less clearly defined
 
 232 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 by the reflected light, but as swift and as certain, 
 another thin black line moved on the paper; another 
 knife point showed its sinister gleam! 
 
 Gods! To be killed like a rat in a trap as he lay 
 defenseless upon his back! This was unfair. Wait 
 give him a fight for it! 
 
 The light was overshadowed again. 
 
 In those few hour-seeming moments, when the 
 night noises sounded doubly loud and the rattle of 
 the paper like thunder, he thought of every moment 
 of his life every moment before the great blank 
 the life on the rice farm, the rebellion, the rivalry 
 for Kiku's hand. 
 
 Where now was the old voice so low and tender? 
 He would so soon hear it forever in the spirit land. 
 There was only a thin wall of paper between it and 
 him. He wondered whether the knife blades would 
 pain him or whether the leaden sensation in all his 
 body would deaden their keen edges. 
 
 The moonlight shone again. 
 
 He looked to the left. The paper there was cut 
 in the form of an L that was gradually becoming a 
 square-bottomed U. He looked to the right with 
 his eyes only for a stiffness in the back of his 
 neck made it impossible for him to turn his head. 
 No half-cut thing was there; but a clear square in 
 the paper black, grim, and yawning. 
 
 Something moved along the floor. It was a hand,
 
 A DESERTED SHOJI 233 
 
 a long-nailed, twisted-knuckled hand. A broad wrist, 
 then a hairy, muscular forearm followed it. The 
 nails of the hand dug into the matting, the muscles 
 of the forearm swelled there was a scraping a 
 face showed in the black frame of the square. 
 
 Rennoske found himself picking out every feature. 
 The slanting eyes with their saffron whites, the flat 
 nose that spread over almost half the face, the long 
 upper lip, the loose under lip that protruded over 
 the shriveled chin, and between those yellow, sharp- 
 pointed teeth the long blade of the knife shone in 
 the pale glow from above. 
 
 He heard the sweep of the paper on the other side 
 and knew by the sound that the other square was 
 cut and another body was crawling toward him 
 with another knife. 
 
 The face of the Ugly Dwarf fascinated him, for 
 it came to him now that he had seen that face before 
 not in this life, but that other life beyond the veil 
 of the past, when he was oh, before he was the 
 adopted son of Miyoshi the Farmer! 
 
 He tried to call. Words would not come. Surely 
 this was too unfair. All he wanted to say, all he 
 wished to do, was to ask this creature who sought his 
 life his own name. Let him tell him who he was 
 then he could strike. But vain was the struggle 
 blackness he knew nothing.
 
 234 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 A bright light shone through the jagged hole in the 
 roof when he awoke. He knew it must be the sun. 
 It was morning and he was alive. Or perhaps this was 
 but his spirit left here to haunt the scene of his death. 
 
 Fearing everything, he sat up slowly and looked. 
 There above bellied the snow-white ceiling cloth 
 against the cobweb-covered rafters and dust-thick 
 eaves. There was the paper of the shoji walls 
 yes, there was the square cut in each. 
 
 He rose and looked along the floor. What was 
 that huddled heap in the corner? He went slowly 
 to it and looked closely. There could be no mis- 
 taking those long white drawers cross-garted with 
 the black silken rope, no mistaking those broad 
 shoulders and hairy, muscular arms that, with the 
 fists tightly clenched, were drawn over the now 
 sunken chest. 
 
 He stooped and turned the body of the dwarf 
 upon its back. The yellow eyes stared horribly at 
 the ceiling, the flat nose was flatter still, the loose- 
 lipped mouth was wide open, and between the 
 yellow teeth the tongue protruded black. About 
 the heavy neck were the prints of five fingers. 
 The creature had been strangled! 
 
 There was no halting here. He went to the shoji 
 wall upon his right and strove to shove it out of its 
 groove, for through that room lay the door. He 
 tugged and pulled.
 
 A DESERTED SHOJI 235 
 
 There was a snapping and rending of wood 
 the teak and paper thing fell inward, no longer held 
 in place by the rotted groove that gave way under 
 the pressure. A flood of sunlight followed him into 
 the dim room. 
 
 There was no need for a second glance at the 
 huddled thing in that dark corner. What was it 
 now? Yesterday it had been an old woman who 
 whined of her feet and her back. Yesterday it was 
 she who, in fawn-colored kimono and crooked staff, 
 called herself the mother of Rennoske. Yesterday 
 it was Madame Golden Glow, plotter, courtezan of 
 the Matsuyama, power behind a throne. Today 
 
 The face was more than unadorned and ugly, 
 more than washed clean of its paint and taken from 
 its frame of silk and jeweled gewgaws. 
 
 For the streaked gray hair was disheveled, the 
 eyes stared ceilingward, the mouth hung wide open. 
 The skinny arms were drawn up and close hugged 
 the bent knees. Plainly upon the wrinkled throat 
 showed the telltale finger-marks! 
 
 With a roar of horror Rennoske ran pellmell into 
 the outside wall of the house, throwing his whole 
 weight upon it. It snapped and fell away from the 
 worm-eaten groove, splashing into the mud with 
 sickly thud. He jumped. A swarm of flies buzzed 
 upward from the ooze. He would have stepped 
 upon a something that stuck deep into the slime.
 
 236 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 He saw that, too the upturned, horrible face of 
 the man they called Okubo. The signs were there, 
 staring eyes, gaping mouth, blackened, protruding 
 tongue ! 
 
 Splashing in the mire, rattling on the boards, 
 Rennoske fled. His arms thrust straight before 
 him, his hands parting the rushes that closed with a 
 rustling sweep behind him. Would he ever be out 
 of this buzzing, green, ill-smelling ooze, this rotting, 
 worm-eaten horror? 
 
 At last the road! It stretched out before him, 
 white and green-flanked in the brilliant sunlight. 
 On he ran, kicking up the dust that flew in a cloud 
 and stuck to the sweat on his forehead. On and 
 on, anywhere anywhere away from that scene 
 of desolation and mysterious death!
 
 Chapter XIX 
 A Heap of Blackened Ashes 
 
 IT seemed to him as if all the world were running 
 that beautiful summer day. At least a dozen 
 peasants had passed him, tearing along, wild- 
 eyed, in the opposite direction. 
 
 He reached the bogs through the forest before he 
 slackened his pace, and, being tired, sat upon a 
 mossy stone to rest. 
 
 The more he thought of the last night's happen- 
 ings, the more he was puzzled. Who had slain the 
 dwarf, the woman, and the man, and why? Why 
 had the ugly creature sought to kill him? Why 
 were the men running? Where was he to go? 
 
 It was all a jumble that he dismissed in contempla- 
 tion of the sunlight through the trees, in giving ear 
 to the birds that sang so sweetly, in smelling the 
 perfume of the leaves as it mixed with the salt air 
 of the sea. 
 
 He listened feet were pattering over the leaves 
 behind him. Still unnerved by his gruesome expe- 
 rience, he jumped up quickly. Was this another
 
 238 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 to seek his life? He thought of flight and the log 
 bridge that lay but a little way ahead of him. He 
 could reach that, cross over, and fling it into the 
 stream. To follow him would mean loss of time and 
 would give him a fair start. Flight whither? 
 
 He had already started; but suddenly, disgusted 
 with a hare-and-hound existence, he stood resolute, 
 listening to the pattering, waiting for whatever it 
 portended. He saw the first of the men fishers 
 they were carrying clubs, knives, and spears. 
 They were about twenty in all. He folded his arms 
 across his chest awaiting them. About a dozen feet 
 from where he stood the leader halted and turned 
 back to his fellows. 
 
 "We have found him!" he cried over his shoulder. 
 "We search no more. We shall strike the blow!" 
 
 Still Rennoske stood, motionless, fearless now, 
 with arms folded across his chest, waiting for them 
 to come on and do what they would. Then it 
 happened the man dropped face downward among 
 the leaves at his feet. In a moment the entire 
 twenty squatted upon the ground, faces between 
 palms. 
 
 The thing was so anticlimactic that Rennoske 
 could but give forth a silly laugh like a schoolboy. 
 It was like sweating in terror under a knife that 
 hung by a thread and then find the blade but paper. 
 
 "Brothers all," he cried good-naturedly, "rise
 
 HEAP OF BLACKENED ASHES 239 
 
 and tell me why you have thus come upon me with 
 shouts and ready weapons?" 
 
 "All hail the mighty one!" cried a kneeling 
 peasant. 
 
 "May you live ten thousand years!" another. 
 
 "Long live the Little Warrior!" they all cried. 
 "Long live the man who shall lead us to victory!" 
 
 Rennoske laughed again; the thing struck him as 
 grotesque. As if in answer to his dreams, these men 
 came to him swearing fealty and asking to be led to 
 victory. There was the flavor of the supernatural 
 about it. 
 
 "There is mystery here, men of Boruku," said 
 he with contracted brows. "What shall twenty of 
 us do? We are but a dried pea hurled against an 
 avalanche." 
 
 "We care not," a sturdy fisher said. "We are 
 bidden to follow you that will we do." 
 
 At that he was more puzzled than ever. 
 
 "As ye were bidden ? Strange talk, men of Boruku. 
 No living soul knows my thought or cares what I 
 need. Who bids ye join me? Answer, I beseech 
 ye!" 
 
 "We asked his name," replied the first speaker, 
 "but he bade us call him the Man with the Scar 
 upon his Breast. This only did he say, except that 
 more would find and follow you." 
 
 "What manner of man was he?"
 
 240 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "That, too, we cannot reveal, O leader, for he 
 made us a secret sign that is known only to those 
 who live by the sea." 
 
 "Hei and you are to follow?" 
 
 "Wherever your steps lead, whether you will 
 or no." 
 
 "I go to Takenaka and there bide me for a time. 
 Follow, then." 
 
 Oh, puzzle upon puzzle in a day of puzzles! At 
 night he wakes to find an assassin with knife in teeth 
 creeping upon him. He is overcome by his malady. 
 In the morning he finds that assailant and his 
 accomplices strangled beside him. Now come these 
 twenty swearing fealty to him, with strange words 
 about "the Man with the Scar upon his Breast," 
 who would send more. 
 
 He had an ambition to overthrow the Matsuyama. 
 He had led a thousand against them and failed 
 now he led twenty. Sturdy, honest-faced souls that 
 had tasted warfare with him yet but twenty. 
 Would the number swell again? Would the chance 
 for victory come so soon and with so few? 
 
 The first thing that struck him as strange as his 
 footsteps crackled over the heaps of dead leaves, 
 and the footsteps of the twenty swished behind him, 
 was a thin, blue haze. 
 
 He thought it came from the fires of charcoal- 
 burners; but he was woodsman enough to know that
 
 HEAP OF BLACKENED ASHES 241 
 
 this would have drifted through the trees. What he 
 saw came in heavy volumes, and wafted down from 
 over the green tops. By the smell, too, there was 
 more than charcoal burning. 
 
 Next he had a view, along the sun-filtered path 
 ahead of him, of a frantic man with his wife and 
 four small children. The man, running along with 
 head down, carried one tot on his back, dragged 
 another by one hand, while he held his wife with 
 the other. She, in turn, carried another youngster, 
 while pots and pans clattered from a string about 
 her neck. 
 
 Straight for Rennoske and the twenty they came. 
 The man neither saw nor heard them until he was 
 about ten feet away. When he did, he uttered a 
 howl of dismay, darted into the underbrush, hauling 
 the whole yelping family after him. With the crash 
 of leaves and the snapping of twigs the bedlam died 
 away in the green distance. 
 
 "Who be these?" asked Rennoske of the nearest 
 man. "They run from us as though we were enemies. 
 I cannot fathom it." 
 
 "Nor I, O leader," the man replied gravely; 
 "unless it be that the Black Boar runs rampant 
 again." 
 
 "Let us hasten and Look there the smoke 
 thickens." 
 
 Many times on the road through the bogs and
 
 242 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 quagmire the scene, or ones similar, was repeated. 
 Men and women and children, too, running in their 
 direction, turned and ran from them at sight. 
 Sparks now mingled with the smoke and fell upon 
 the leaves at their feet. 
 
 They came now from the shelter of the trees and 
 stood a little distance from the great granite rock on 
 which stood the village of Takenaka. Rennoske's 
 heart sank. His fears were realized. The smoke 
 poured black now from the huddled huts. The 
 village was aflame. 
 
 Through the smoke that was blown along the road 
 Rennoske saw the fleeing figures. In the direction 
 of his own home, up the mountain, into the forest, 
 they were scurrying. One poor fellow, staggering 
 down the road in their direction, turned and fled. 
 He had gone but a few feet when he swayed and fell, 
 face downward, in the dust. Rennoske ran quickly 
 and raised him. 
 
 "Take the ram, then, wolves!" the man moaned. 
 "The lambs all have ye slain. Take me burn and 
 slaughter I will curse ye while ye do it!'* 
 
 "We take no life, reverend sir thee of all men." 
 
 The man turned and looked at him. Rennoske 
 saw the smoke-blackened face of the Tapper of 
 Laquer Trees. 
 
 "Inari be praised! You are safe, Little Warrior." 
 The old man laughed hysterically as he scrambled
 
 HEAP OF BLACKENED ASHES 243 
 
 to his knees. "The sight of you is worth all the 
 rest. You are safe, then safe and unhurt?" 
 
 "As safe as ever, reverend sir. Why dost thou 
 ask? What mean these fires and scampering men 
 and women?" 
 
 "Well may you ask. Sit me here upon this 
 stone, for I am weary and heart-sick so that 
 is better now hei a moment to catch again my 
 wind ! " 
 
 Above, on the heights, the flames crackled; the 
 smoke, blowing down, enveloped them. Up on the 
 mountainside the cries of the fleeing peasants died 
 away. The deep-breathing man upon the roadside 
 stone, the ring of anxious faces, they only showed 
 life amid the havoc. Nature's own sounds came 
 doubly loud, as if to say: "Man alone makes war. 
 Here is peace." 
 
 The Tapper of Laquer Trees, his eyes upon the 
 ground, spoke. 
 
 "It was but yestere'en that Centaro the Wagoner 
 came running into the house of Nogi the Weaver, 
 crying out that a black tower of smoke rose straight 
 in the air to northward." 
 
 "To northward?" Rennoske echoed with blanched 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Aye hear on, O leader! Jubika, son of the 
 Sandalmaker, cried out the news to me as I sat by 
 my shoji. I ran to the lawn, where were gathered
 
 244 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 many more. It was as he reported; smoke and 
 flames rose through the trees. 
 
 "Not long did we watch before Centaro cried out 
 and ran from us. We could not fathom this at first, 
 until we saw plainly that another column of smoke 
 rose to the sky. All knew that it was Centaro's 
 house. 
 
 "It grew dark apace, yet we stayed there upon the 
 green. Horrible was the sight, Little Warrior. We 
 watched the flames that rose ever nearer to us. As 
 one red, licking tongue topped the trees, another 
 behind it died away into a shower of sparks. On- 
 ward it came until we knew the last house upon 
 the slope blazed. There was naught now between 
 the devastators and us. 
 
 "Loud were the shouting, the cries, and the 
 lamentations when, at midnight, the soldiers came 
 from out the trees upon the lawn. The torches 
 they bore shone upon their black armor. The 
 butchers were upon us twenty of them the 
 butchers of the hated Matsuyama. 
 
 "I stayed no longer, for I guessed what was in the 
 wind. I went to mine own shoji, put up the walls, 
 and barred myself in.'* 
 
 The man paused and looked about him; then he 
 shook his head, as if the tale was too terrible to tell. 
 
 "All my life I have lived here, O leader. I have 
 gone abroad at my work; but always I have returned
 
 HEAP OF BLACKENED ASHES 245 
 
 to Takenaka, to find peace and comfort. I pray to 
 the gods that death come upon me before I must 
 needs listen to the sounds of the night just passed. 
 The cries of men, the shrieks of women, rent the 
 air, and through it all came the crackling of the 
 flames. Toward morning I heard a sobbing outside 
 my door. I opened it and looked out. There upon 
 the ground lay little Jubika, a great wound in his 
 side. I brought him in. The soldiers had been to 
 his house, he told me. They asked for some one. 
 
 "He, poor lad, becoming frightened, sought to 
 run away, when a spear thrust laid him low. The 
 heat of the flames from his burning house made him 
 crawl through the grass, seeking he knew not what. 
 "The soldiers whom do they seek?' I asked 
 of him. 
 
 "They ask, first, if any know Miyoshi the Farmer,' 
 he moaned. 'Then they cry: "Thou knowest him 
 where is his son?" If the answer was glib or 
 slow, it mattered not. 
 
 "The man was either beaten or stabbed, and the 
 women driven out of doors. I learned later, to the 
 shame of my soul, that some of our fairest daughters 
 were dragged away by the swine. 
 
 "What more need be said, Little Warrior? I left 
 my house and did what I could for the wounded, 
 which was little. They burned it behind me out of 
 sport, then returned whence they had come. Those
 
 246 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 that escaped I need not say what they have done. 
 Look up, Little Warrior like ants they climb the 
 mountain." 
 
 The Tapper of Laquer Trees rose to his feet. 
 
 "See! Takenaka lies in ruins. All are fled but 
 me. Gods, give me the strength Inari, enter 
 my brain and give me the cunning to avenge this 
 shame!" 
 
 His old voice trembled, while he shook his clenched 
 fists. Rennoske stood with thumb and forefinger 
 holding his lip. He thought deeply. Then, as if to 
 himself, they heard him say: 
 
 "They sought me now it seems the time is ripe 
 that I should seek them." 
 
 "You speak truly, O leader," the Tapper of 
 Laquer Trees said quickly. "The hate that smolders 
 in every breast now bursts forth with the flames of 
 their homes. The time is ripe." 
 
 Still Rennoske thought in silence, while the awed 
 peasants made a ring about him. Suddenly he 
 turned to the Tapper of Laquer Trees. 
 
 "Thou canst write?" 
 
 "Well enough for the men of these parts to read." 
 
 "Thou hast brush, knife, and inkhorn?" 
 
 "The priest shall give them me." 
 
 "Good. Go now and fetch them. Then up the 
 mountains where the men of Takenaka must pass. 
 Go unto every tree that thou knowest. Cut away
 
 HEAP OF BLACKENED ASHES 247 
 
 the bark in a square that the white of the wood may 
 show; then mark upon the square these words: 
 "'Him they call "Little Warrior" waits by the 
 mountain torrent under the curved rock until the 
 moon is full. There all foes of the Matsuyama shall 
 find him.'" 
 
 The man bowed in answer. 
 
 "Far and near I go, O leader. Far and near with 
 thy words aye, till I come to the camphor trees 
 before the palace of the Black Boar. Saianara I 
 salute you!" 
 
 And the Tapper of Laquer Trees turned and 
 walked toward the mountains. 
 
 "Forward, men of Boruku!" cried Rennoske. 
 
 If testimony were needed for the words of the 
 Tapper of Laquer Trees, it was there in plenty for 
 any who had eyes to see. The road, with its woods 
 and pine-clad hills the road he had come along but 
 yesterday presented quite a different aspect. 
 
 The steep incline to his right bore all the signs of 
 the Matsuyama raid in their search for him. House 
 after house was razed to the ground. An ox-cart 
 lay overturned, the beasts dead in their yoke. Not 
 a living thing was seen. 
 
 Yes small black things stood out against the 
 green and gray of the towering mountain. Thorough 
 had been the work of the soldiers of the Matsuyama, 
 Rennoske thought, thorough in everything but the
 
 248 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 slaying of himself. He chuckled queerly at that 
 the hand of justice was not altogether stayed. 
 
 He passed the rice fields of his foster-father; the 
 water in the ditches between the dikes of mud turned 
 as ever by the sun into ribbons of orange. He 
 walked quickly up the zigzag path, sending the 
 stones flying in a shower. 
 
 Where the way branched off and the by-path led 
 to Miyoshi's house he bade the men wait for him. 
 
 The sun had set and cast over all a faint pink glow. 
 The cherry trees stood as he had last seen them, but 
 slightly blackened by the smoke. The round stone 
 wells were there, so was the garden where the chrys- 
 anthemums bloomed in November. As for the 
 house One post stood still upright, holding a 
 corner of what had once been the thatched roof, 
 now but a tangled and charred mass. The other two 
 posts slanted inward over a heap of blackened ashes. 
 
 The body of Miyoshi he found on a little mound 
 where the farmer often burned his charcoal. The 
 wife lay face downward near the door. 
 
 He searched among the underbrush, poked long 
 at the ruins, even throwing heavy stones down the 
 three wells. After an hour he sat under the cherry 
 trees, the Tapper of Laquer Trees' words booming 
 in his ears: 
 
 "Some of our fairest daughters were dragged away 
 by the swine."
 
 HEAP OF BLACKENED ASHES 249 
 
 He looked up at the moon, which could be seen 
 faintly in a light-blue sky. It was a pale crescent. 
 He walked back to where his men waited and gave 
 them a command to turn down toward the rock that 
 jutted out over the waterfall. 
 
 His face was calm, his eyes clear and bright. No 
 sigh nor tear nor sob came from him. When the 
 body of the Black Boar lay at his feet there would 
 be time enough for that.
 
 Chapter XX 
 "The Knights of the Purple Lotus 
 
 THE rushing torrent under the curved rock. 
 It was now no scene of childhood wan- 
 derings, but an armed camp. There was 
 the ledge of granite above the boiling, tumbling 
 waterfall; but instead of an awkward, shaven- 
 headed boy, Rennoske stood upon it a full-grown 
 man of twenty-one, steel-muscled and death-careless. 
 Instead of a dainty, kimono-clad girl beside him, 
 her left hand in his, there stood three rugged men. 
 
 The great rock itself, curved over like the palm 
 of a gigantic hand, the thumb forming the ledge on 
 which they stood, cast a black shadow on the white 
 water that foamed out of the side of the mountain 
 and fell sheer a hundred feet into the stream below. 
 The moon was at the full. 
 
 Along the zigzag path up the mountainside many 
 figures sat or lay, singly, in pairs, and odd groups. 
 The light of the moon showed them, up and along 
 the path, until it dwindled away between the two 
 granite boulders.
 
 KNIGHTS OF THE PURPLE LOTUS 251 
 
 They were there, too, these still and slightly 
 moving figures. They were upon the by-path, upon 
 the shelving plateau where once stood the house of 
 Miyoshi the Farmer, under the cherry trees, in the 
 trampled garden, about the three wells; yes, even 
 along the way to the rice fields they lay in the rank, 
 uncut grass. 
 
 The slope of the hill was black-dotted with them, 
 and beside every reclining, sleeping, or sitting figure 
 weapons silvery in the soft light. 
 
 For the message of the Tapper of Laquer Trees 
 had been cut in the bark of many trees. The chil- 
 dren of the Mikado had read; the children of the 
 Mikado had suffered at the hands of the Matsuyama; 
 the children of the Mikado had gone to the curved 
 rock by the mountain torrent. 
 
 Then there were those who lived and took their 
 living from the sea. No tree-cut messages had they 
 seen; but they had heard a voice that bid them leave 
 their life of toil, sharpen their knives and fasten them 
 to long poles, a voice that rang with earnestness, 
 a hand that made a secret sign. 
 
 And they had come, seeking a man they called 
 "Little Warrior." They had found him by the 
 curved rock by the mountain torrent, found and 
 sworn fealty to him. 
 
 "How are we provisioned?" asked the first of the 
 rugged men upon the ledge Takagi they called him.
 
 252 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 A man of wealth he was, owning tea plantations 
 with fifty coolies under him. But his tea plantations 
 were idle, his coolies now bore ax and club, for a 
 soldier of the Matsuyama had carried off his only 
 daughter, and the Black Boar had answered his plea 
 for justice with a shower of arrows from the palace 
 gate. Takagi of the High Castle they called him, 
 stout from a life of ease he was, with the light of 
 doubt in his shifting eyes. Yet he had read the writ- 
 ing on the trees and had come to serve Rennoske, 
 for his wrong was great. 
 
 "Each man bears a bag of millet. There is pulled 
 and dried venison from the mountains, seventy 
 sacks of bamboo sprouts and ninety of rice, not to 
 count the forage we may gather on the way." 
 
 This from the second speaker, a broad-shouldered 
 man of fifty. The Sorrowful Father they called him, 
 and well, for the Matsuyama had lured from him 
 his only son, who now drank deep in the court of the 
 Black Boar, throwing away his heritage for a geisha's 
 song and a robe of silk in the dreadful palace of the 
 house of the Mountain of Pines. He had read the 
 sign on the trees for vengeance he had come to 
 join the man they called "Little Warrior." 
 
 "How many do we number now?" asked 
 Rennoske. 
 
 "Eleven hundred, six and seventy," answered the 
 third man.
 
 KNIGHTS OF THE PURPLE LOTUS 253 
 
 A dweller in the mountains was he one Yuki- 
 taka. Older than the rest, some sixty-odd. No 
 one knew from whence he came or why, for he dwelt 
 high among the snowy peaks, among musty Chinese 
 books. A deep thinker, a man of wisdom, he had 
 seen the secret sign and heard the earnest voice, 
 and so he came, for he loved the right. 
 
 "How are we to march, O leader?" he asked. 
 
 "I bethought me," Rennoske answered, "of the 
 road through the mountains to the west. Here we 
 avoid the great plains where our army would be 
 spread out, an easy target for archers' arrows. By 
 the narrow, walled-in road I would take, our enemy 
 must needs meet us face to face. If our courage fail 
 us not, we must, by force of numbers, drive them 
 back." 
 
 "There is room for much speech upon that, O 
 leader," Takagi spoke up. "The road to the east 
 is filled with many villages, while that to the 
 west through the mountains is poorly settled. By 
 this we will gain little, while by the other will we 
 pick up many men." 
 
 "I most honorably differ, reverend sir," replied 
 Rennoske. "The east country I have been through 
 before and drawn forth many faithful followers. 
 Did not I meet defeat? Wherefore should we go 
 that way? Again, most of those who are now with 
 us have come from the east road, so we will gain
 
 254 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 naught and are likely to lose a few when these pass 
 their homes. The way to the palace is shorter to the 
 west, the road harder. Will it not be more difficult 
 for the armor-clad soldiers of the Matsuyama to 
 make headway than for us who are lighter equipped ? 
 Are my words heard and thought upon?" 
 
 "Aye, O leader," said Yukitaka, "they are fraught 
 with much wisdom, as becoming thy station. I 
 think, brothers," he continued, turning to the other 
 two, "the plans of our leader are well laid. The 
 west road is the better way." i 
 
 "The west road be it then," responded Takagi. 
 "So-ho whom have we here?" 
 
 A bare-legged peasant bent before them. Ren- 
 noske recognized in him one of the men he had 
 appointed as an outpost. 
 
 "What news?" he demanded. "Why hast thou 
 come so fast as to pant now like a breathed hare? 
 Rise and tell us!" 
 
 "O leader," answered the man, puffing, "as I lay 
 high upon the overhanging branch of a cedar, I saw 
 the moonlight gleam upon breastplates. Long I 
 looked and carefully. It is true, leader, a band of 
 knights, about seventy I should fancy, march this 
 way from the south. They come slowly I came 
 like the wind yet they are still far off. 'Twill be 
 dawn at least ere they reach us." 
 
 "From the south?" queried Rennoske strangely.
 
 KNIGHTS OF THE PURPLE LOTUS 255 
 
 "Perhaps another body comes from the north," 
 ventured Yukitaka. "They might seek to surround 
 us. Had we not best awake the men and be ready?" 
 
 "Nay," Rennoske answered, "let the men sleep. 
 They would not attack us here, we up the mountain 
 and they at the foot. Should the courier from the 
 north come, then will it be time enough, for after all, 
 what should we fear from seventy? Let the men 
 sleep. I myself will climb upon the mountain and 
 watch." 
 
 In spite of the protests from the three that he, 
 above all, needed sleep, Rennoske threaded his way 
 among the huddled figures on the zigzag path and 
 along the smaller path to the tiny plateau where 
 once stood the house of Miyoshi the Farmer. He 
 watched the road to the north but not altogether. 
 There were the three wells, the cherry trees, the 
 garden where the chrysanthemums bloomed in 
 November. How strange it all seemed now! 
 
 Where was the gentle voice that called "Little 
 Warrior"? Where the feet that pattered over the 
 matting? Where the eyes that looked so tenderly 
 into his at his words, "Gentlest Flower"? Where 
 was Kiku San? 
 
 But he must watch the road to the north he 
 must watch the road to the south. 
 
 The first streaks of the dawn revealed them, 
 coming slowly down the south road. Rennoske
 
 256 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 could even count them from where he stood. They 
 marched in fours, seventeen of these groups, making 
 sixty-eight knights, for knights they were, plainly 
 enough. Even at that distance he could see every 
 shining corselet, every jointed apron and pointed- 
 cornered helmet. One of the first four carried a 
 banner of silk; it lay against its pole, motionless in 
 the still morning air. 
 
 Suddenly a breeze sprang up. The flag fluttered, 
 half concealing its own folds, now rolled about the 
 pole, then flew clear. Rennoske saw that which 
 made him run madly down the slope, crying: 
 
 "Awake, brothers ! Awake, awake and welcome ! " 
 
 The men sat up, staring stupidly. He ran to 
 where lay the three, their heads pillowed upon their 
 arms. 
 
 "Rise, Yukitaka!" he cried, shaking them one by 
 one. "Takagi, bestir thyself! Open thine eyes, 
 Sorrowful Father, and look upon a sight that is rose- 
 water to them look at yonder banner!" 
 
 The three sprang up and in an instant were follow- 
 ing his trembling finger. They saw the yellow 
 banner, bearing no pine tree upon a mountaintop, 
 the hated sign of the Matsuyama, but the purple 
 lotus of their neighboring kingdom! 
 
 "Gods!" cried Yukitaka; "have these joined with 
 the Matsuyama against us?" 
 
 "We are ruined then!" the Sorrowful Father cried.
 
 KNIGHTS OF THE PURPLE LOTUS 257 
 
 "Nay, what need we fear of seventy let us up 
 and at them to arms to arms, comrades!" 
 
 "Hold, Yukitaka," thundered Rennoske; "look 
 you!" The vanguard of the knights was near now. 
 "The flagpole is draped with garlands. They come 
 in peace, not in war. See they halt one comes 
 toward us." 
 
 On the mountainside was now a Babel of many 
 voices, angry and questioning. Rennoske and the 
 three went quickly down the hill to meet the knight. 
 The armored figure halted at sight of them, then, as 
 they came near, drew his sword and laid it upon the 
 ground. 
 
 "I seek the man they call Little Warrior," he said 
 in a solemn voice. "Where may he be found?" 
 
 "I am that man," answered Rennoske, striding 
 forward. " What would you of me ?" 
 
 The man bowed low, then raised his hand. 
 
 "Our most sublime, most noble ruler, O Kotora, 
 Daimyo of the house of the Purple Lotus, ruler of 
 Katsu and Nokodate, the two states, hath sent 
 me with these eight and sixty knights. They are to 
 be at your command in this your war against the 
 Matsuyama." 
 
 Rennoske stood speechless. 
 
 "Moreover," continued the soldier, "he sends a 
 suit of armor of bronze and gold, a sword of sharpest 
 steel, and begs you will wear it in his honor."
 
 258 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 At the words two soldiers, one bearing the breast- 
 plate and trappings, the other the sword and helmet, 
 came forth from the ranks and laid them upon the 
 earth. 
 
 "Who hath done this?" 
 
 The fierce tone in which Rennoske's words were 
 uttered startled the soldier and the three. 
 
 "Who hath done what?" asked the knight. 
 
 "This this this!" cried Rennoske, stamping 
 his foot. "The Little Tiger, Daimyo of Katsu and 
 Nokodate, gives not gifts of armor and men like rain 
 from the skies. Who told him of me? Who told 
 him I made war upon the Matsuyama ? " 
 
 "I saw the man but in the darkness," the soldier 
 answered, "after he had come from the secret 
 council-chamber of the Daimyo. I asked his name, 
 but he spake not truly, for he bade me call him 'the 
 Man with the Scar upon his Breast.' Then he 
 vanished into the night and I saw him no more." 
 
 Rennoske clutched wildly at the air. Then, 
 collecting himself, he turned a strange face upon the 
 knight. 
 
 "I most humbly accept the gift of Kotora, Daimyo 
 of the house of the Purple Lotus, ruler of Katsu 
 and Nokodate," he said in a far-away voice. "We 
 march by the west road at sunrise." 
 
 The vermilion of that sunrise sent its slanting rays 
 upon the mountainside. Rennoske had seen it shine
 
 KNIGHTS OF THE PURPLE LOTUS 259 
 
 thus often and often, but never had it disclosed 
 such a sight as this! The peaceful path to the rice 
 fields now bristled with knife, club, and spear. 
 Under the cherry trees men passed in twos and 
 threes, trampling the blackened ashes where once 
 stood the house of Miyoshi the Farmer. Down the 
 path they swarmed, the zigzag path, where the tiny 
 pebbles fell in a shower. Down the path, laughing, 
 shouting, and singing. The word was given ! 
 
 First came the twenty men of Boruku, shoulder 
 to shoulder, five abreast, with white bands about 
 their heads. Next marched the Knights of the 
 Purple Lotus, their swords, breastplates, and hel- 
 mets gleaming. In their wake followed Takagi 
 and his fifty coolies, armed with the ax and the 
 long knife. 
 
 A body of sturdy mountaineers were next in line, 
 for weapons their long shepherds' crooks with 
 keen knives lashed to them, the Sorrowful Father 
 at their head. Bands of fishers and farmers came 
 in their turn, all armed rudely, yet with something 
 shining in their faces that showed deathless deter- 
 mination. Yukitaka led them. 
 
 Rennoske turned for an instant and looked toward 
 the mountain. The sunlight blazed upon its green 
 and gray. 
 
 " Saianara, O mountain," he murmured. "Thy 
 son goes forth. Let my feet be as swift as thy
 
 260 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 stream. Let me stand firm as thy rocks. Like 
 thy avalanche, let me sweep away my foe. For the 
 land of my birth, for the poor oppressed who trust 
 and follow me, for thee, O Kiku San, wherever thou 
 art, I go!" 
 
 He walked to the head of a band of broadax-armed 
 woodmen, who, brown-legged and brown-clad, waited 
 to bring up the rear of the army which tramped 
 ahead. His fingers closed affectionately about his 
 sword-hilt. He raised the weapon on high. 
 
 "Forward!" he cried. 
 
 And so along the road past the towering moun- 
 tain, along the bank of the rushing stream, by the 
 trees of the forest where the birds sang they marched, 
 the army of the man they called "Little Warrior." 
 Woodmen, fishermen, sailors, tea-pickers, coolies, 
 and mountaineers, shoulder to shoulder, under the 
 one banner, with the same world-old desire of liberty. 
 
 Well had the Tapper of Laquer Trees written. 
 Well had spoken the Man with the Scar upon his 
 Breast. Onward the army of Rennoske moved, to 
 regain a throne he did not know was his. 
 
 Onward they marched eleven hundred and 
 seventy-six of them.
 
 Chapter XXI 
 The Shadow of a Pine *Tree 
 
 HOW numbers our host now, Takagi?" 
 Rennoske asked the question, standing 
 in the shade of a fantastic fir that grew 
 straight from two black rocks at the head of a 
 narrow ravine. 
 
 "Two thousand and twenty, O leader," answered 
 the tea-planter. "This counting the eighteen slain 
 in the engagement with the Matsuyama horsemen 
 that fell upon our flank yestere'en." 
 
 "We have gained, then, seven hundred four 
 and ninety even in this rude country and lost 
 but eighteen," replied Rennoske. "What of the 
 horsemen? I saw not the fight, having stayed 
 behind with my woodmen in the Village of the 
 Two Crags." 
 
 "The news is good, O leader," Takagi responded. 
 "Ten of the men were slain, while some ten more 
 fled wounded upon the horses of the others, so we 
 have sixteen of the beasts living, with twice as many 
 captured swords, helmets, and lances."
 
 262 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "It is well. Which way fled they through 
 the pass?" 
 
 "Nay, over the crest of the hills to our right. 
 The shepherd we questioned this morning tells us 
 there is but room for two abreast in the center of 
 the pass. The way is stony and steep and will not 
 warrant the passing of a pony." 
 
 "So," replied Rennoske, his lip between thumb 
 and forefinger. "See that the men are well fed. 
 We go upon a long, fast march at dawn. The 
 mountain path, as thou already knowest, leads to 
 the great plain behind the palace. Coming out 
 suddenly upon it, as we should ere noon, it is but 
 another two days' march to the home of our 
 enemies. From the poor opposition we have met 
 and the report of our spies, it is easily seen the 
 Matsuyama expect us by the east road and have 
 drawn up their forces there to meet us." 
 
 "Yet methinks, O leader," said the Sorrowful 
 Father, who had come up, "that the wily baron 
 will turn again to the plain, as we come from yonder 
 mountain pass. He will have ample time." 
 
 "Time, yes," answered Rennoske. "But there is 
 a river between him and us. They cannot cross it 
 in time to cut us in two ere we surround the palace 
 grounds still further westward." 
 
 With a smile Rennoske strode toward his wood- 
 men, who were making their camp in a ragged grove
 
 SHADOW OF A PINE-TREE 263 
 
 of firs, in the shadow of the cliff that towered above 
 them. The Sorrowful Father and Takagi exchanged 
 glances. 
 
 "'Tis a wise head he hath on such young 
 shoulders," said the former. "His parentage must 
 be high, or he comes from the gods themselves, for 
 in the fifty years of my life such keen powers of 
 reason I have not seen." 
 
 "Aye," answered Takagi significantly, "but what 
 the gods give they take away." 
 
 "What mean you, Takagi?" asked the Sorrowful 
 Father. "It is not good to speak so. Dost thou 
 mean defeat will follow?" 
 
 "Softly," Takagi replied. "I mean not that. 
 The mind of the Little Warrior is great, greater than 
 any I have seen; but though his intellect shines 
 with the light of noonday, it fades anon into night. 
 He hath a strange sickness that comes upon him 
 wherein he stares at naught and knows naught. 
 
 "For a moon have I been in his company, but 
 I have not seen him so. Some of those who were 
 with him before saw him so upon the bloody field 
 of Hachinohe. They, in their simple hearts, declare 
 he sees and talks with a dead man who watches 
 o'er him and gives him knowledge supernatural that 
 he uses when right again. I cannot tell these things 
 they are beyond me. Yet I hope he acts not so 
 upon the day of battle."
 
 264 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "And I," answered the Sorrowful Father, "for 
 then shall it be in our hands. Shall we fail him, 
 OTakagi?" 
 
 "We have gone too far," the other smilingly 
 replied. 
 
 He put a finger on his lips, for the voice of Ren- 
 noske was borne to their ears. They looked up to 
 see him, clanking in his armor, walking with old 
 Yukitaka toward them. 
 
 "The spirit spoke of victory," they heard him say. 
 "All shall be well." 
 
 With a still deeper bow of obeisance, they wel- 
 comed him under the now black shadow of the 
 jutting fir tree. 
 
 "Look you, O my brother-in-arms," he cried 
 ecstatically. "Is this not a sight to surpass dancing 
 geishas under the wistaria?" 
 
 With a sweep of his mail-clad arm he took in the 
 V-shaped space between the mountains. The heights 
 rose clear, the precipitous slopes in purple shadow, 
 except where the last rays of the setting sun made 
 a golden triangle near the top, as the light filtered 
 through the two higher peaks, above and behind 
 them. 
 
 Many streaks of thin, blue smoke rose upward 
 from many camp-fires, the reddening embers casting 
 a soft glow on bronzed, moving legs, on the black, 
 gray, blue, and brown of the hara-gakkes of the
 
 SHADOW OF A PINE-TREE 265 
 
 squatting ones, on the piles of bristling spears, the 
 heaps of shining axes. 
 
 And the sound of it! The clatter of pots and 
 pans, the sizzling of meat roasting on the coals. 
 The laughter, the good-natured jibes, the full- 
 mouthed, smothered guffaws. All was a happy, 
 grinning, clattering, crackling, chattering jumble 
 of sound and color! 
 
 Something stirred within the soul of Rennoske 
 as he watched. What could he do to stir the 
 spirit of these men whom he had seen ever peace- 
 ful in their toy houses with the toy gardens at the 
 back? 
 
 The fishers, with their cormorants diving and 
 squawking in the torchlit water. The woodmen 
 with the ringing sound of their axes in the forest 
 while their straw-sandaled feet crushed the sweet 
 perfume from the carpet of pine needles below them. 
 The shepherds, who dwelt the long day with their 
 flocks upon the mountainsides, while they piped 
 quaint tunes on flutes of reeds. The farmers, whose 
 fingers pulled the green stalks of the rice plants 
 out of the cool water. The sailors, the charcoal- 
 burners men of the sea and dwellers close to the 
 earth, kin to it. 
 
 "Men of the Land of the Rising Sun!" his voice 
 rang out, echoing from rock to rock. 
 
 The peasants stopped their chatter.
 
 266 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Look ye upon yonder crag! What do ye see? 
 A single pine-tree upon a peak. Look at my feet. 
 It casts its shadow there. Look upon yourselves. 
 Its spreading branches cast a shadow upon ye all. 
 Of what is it the symbol?" 
 
 A snarling roar came back from two thousand 
 throats: "The Matsuyama!" 
 
 "Shall it cast its shadow upon us?" 
 
 "Down with it!" two thousand voices thundered. 
 
 There was a swift rush, like horses into a fire, a 
 running into danger, that was terrible. The crag, 
 or sort of peak it was, rose straight up to a height 
 of some three hundred feet. 
 
 The sides of it were little better than perpendicu- 
 lar, with a spiral path, probably made there by 
 goats in their spring search for tender green things. 
 In shape the whole mass was a rugged and ridged 
 cone, with the offending tree on its top, like a feather 
 on the top of a sugar-loaf hat. 
 
 The men of Boruku were the first to come upon 
 the path and made to climb it at a run. But the 
 mountaineers caught them by the ankles and held 
 them fast, while some of their fellows climbed up 
 the treacherous sides, hand over hand, like sailors 
 up a rope. 
 
 A great shout went up from the men of Boruku. 
 One of their number had wormed himself away 
 from the good-natured grasp and now, like a brown
 
 SHADOW OF A PINE-TREE 267 
 
 bear, partly on hands and partly on feet, went 
 scurrying upward. 
 
 "Luru! Luru!" shrieked the woodmen. 
 
 An ax in his sash, a broad-shouldered, long- 
 armed fellow of their clan had essayed to climb the 
 north side of the slope, where the way was steepest. 
 He reached up, caught hold of a jutting stone in 
 his great, pawlike hand and, like an acrobat on a 
 horizontal bar, drew his body after him. 
 
 Never pausing, he thrust up another arm, seized 
 another rock, and up he went. In the space of a 
 few minutes he had beaten all in the dizzy race. 
 
 "Crawl! Crawl! Bide by the path!" shouted 
 the ten men of Boruku to the other ten that were 
 now half-way up the slope. 
 
 "Dig feet into the earth!" roared the moun- 
 taineers. "The earth yields." 
 
 "Follow Luru! We do what he does!" came in 
 shrill tones from the woodmen. Soon the whole 
 north side was black with them, climbing up like 
 great apes. 
 
 Rennoske and the three stood spellbound at the 
 daring sight. Had the topmost woodman fallen, he 
 would have wiped the rugged sides of the cone clean 
 of the clinging figures, so steep was the ascent. 
 
 "We gain the top!" cried the men of Boruku. 
 
 "We gain the top!" echoed the woodmen and the 
 mountaineers.
 
 268 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 The fishermen had indeed come upon the tree at 
 its dizzy height first, but they could do nothing 
 but pull frantically at its branches. They and the 
 mountaineers, seeing how useless their efforts, waited 
 for the woodmen, who soon clambered up. 
 
 Now the tree was lost, surrounded by some fifty 
 men, where there was room for no more than forty. 
 But the steady chop, chop of the axes rang out 
 swift and steady. 
 
 The snarl of hate was borne down on the evening 
 breeze to be answered by snarl of hate from those 
 below. 
 
 Crash, crash, crash sounded the axes of the wood- 
 men. 
 
 The treetop trembled. It swayed while the 
 crowd parted to let it go. With a shriek of 
 twisted and rent wood it swayed and writhed, 
 then, thrust over by many hands, plunged down, 
 down, turning over and over in its whirling de- 
 scent, and with a thud fell into the blackness of 
 the ravine below! 
 
 " Hei-ei-ei!" What a shout! It echoed and 
 re-echoed among the rocks, rising up and up. 
 Rennoske caught the spirit. He drew his sword 
 and waved it high. 
 
 "Thus shall it be with the Matsuyama!" he 
 cried. 
 
 "Thus shall it be with the Matsuyama!" they
 
 SHADOW OF A PINE-TREE 269 
 
 repeated. "Long live Little Warrior! Long live 
 our prince!" 
 
 Rennoske shivered at the words, and with bowed 
 head he turned and walked toward where the three 
 were standing under the jutting fir tree, while the 
 shouts rang ever behind him. 
 
 "A good omen, leader," remarked Yukitaka. 
 "The pine tree no longer shadows us." 
 
 "A good trick, too," Takagi chimed in. "This 
 sets their blood at boiling-point. Would that we 
 could meet the host of the Matsuyama on the 
 morrow." 
 
 "What meanest thou by a trick?" asked Ren- 
 noske oddly. "Dost thou think I fed their minds 
 with this?" 
 
 "With what, O leader?" answered Takagi, 
 amazed. 
 
 "Thou heardst the name they gave me?" 
 
 "What name?" 
 
 Takagi was puzzled, Yukitaka caught the Sorrow- 
 ful Father by the arm, unnerved by the young man's 
 fierce manner. 
 
 "Didst thou not hear?" Rennoske went on. 
 "They called me their prince." 
 
 "And what of that, O leader?" replied the tea- 
 planter. "What is there in that speech so to unman 
 you? Their prince you are, and ours." 
 
 "I will not have it so," the young man cried.
 
 270 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 " Is it for this I brought these men from their homes ? 
 Thou knowest it is not so, O Takagi. To relieve 
 them from oppression; to put a curb upon the reign 
 of the Black Boar; to be their prince? Nay, it 
 no more occurred to me than to think to fly over 
 yonder mountain. Prince I? The son of Miyoshi 
 the Farmer? Thou speakest wildly, O Takagi!" 
 
 Takagi, encouraged by the glances of the other 
 two, spoke boldly on: 
 
 "Not wildly. It is you who tend to wildness 
 in saying we are but to curb the Matsuyama. As 
 well might we strive to dam the mountain torrent 
 with shoots of young bamboo! 
 
 "Who curbs the rushing of the black boar as he 
 rushes red-tusked among the flying fawns? Curb 
 him? We had best slay him, and then he forages 
 no more. You the prince ? and wherefore not ? 
 Who more capable to govern? Who more wise, 
 more beloved?" 
 
 Rennoske paused. The three saw it was with an 
 effort that he spoke. His chest rose and fell, his 
 eyes were wet as he answered slowly: 
 
 "To you, the companions of my heart, I say 
 and by no other living men would the words be 
 heard I say I am not fit to rule." 
 
 "Not fit?" the three echoed. 
 
 "Nay you forget the mark upon my brain 
 you forget my sickness. The prince ? Aye and
 
 SHADOW OF A PINE-TREE 271 
 
 * Prince Imbecile' they shall call me." He stopped, 
 looking from one to the other. "Not I! Better 
 Yukitaka here for wisdom, Takagi for courage, 
 or the Sorrowful Father for justice. Not I, of all 
 men!" 
 
 "Nay, not I," cried Takagi quickly. 
 
 "Let the young blood rule," said the Sorrowful 
 Father after him. 
 
 But Yukitaka caught their eye. The light was 
 faint, the other two could hardly see him; but 
 they saw the long-nailed, bony finger he laid upon 
 his lips and the sly twinkle in his narrow eyes. 
 
 Rennoske stood there for many moments, uncon- 
 scious of everything but the turmoil within him. 
 Then he found himself watching a tiny spot of light 
 that swung in semicircles toward him. He saw, as 
 it came nearer, that it was a man bearing aloft a 
 torch, and behind him another man stalked. 
 
 The second man spoke to the torch-bearer, then 
 stopped, while the man with the light came on. 
 Rennoske recognized him as one of his woodmen as 
 he came into his presence. The man bowed low. 
 
 "There comes one to crave an audience with you, 
 O leader," he said. "There is that in his eyes that 
 made me think he should see you." 
 
 "What does he call himself?" asked Rennoske, 
 still in a dream of a future hope. 
 
 "He gave me no name," the man replied, "but
 
 272 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 bade me say to you that he was the Man with 
 the Scar upon his Breast." 
 
 "Takagi, Yukitaka, Sorrowful Father!" cried 
 Rennoske in a sudden frenzy. "He has come 
 he who placed me where I am. Stand near, I pray, 
 lest the sight of him unnerve me." 
 
 Rennoske watched the torch dwindle away, saw 
 it pause, whirl, and then grow brighter and brighter 
 on its way back again. He watched it as if it were 
 a floating lamp upon the sea of uncertainty. Now 
 it was near him; but the torch-bearer came before, 
 the other man stalking in his shadow. 
 
 The torch-bearer came on. He stood at the side 
 of Rennoske. The light sputtered as the man came 
 into the circle of its brightness. The newcomer 
 spoke as he came up, distinct, heavy, and of great 
 volume was his voice. 
 
 "I am the Man with the Scar upon his Breast." 
 
 The light of the torch shone upon the face of 
 Osaki, the seal-hunter, suitor of Kiku San!
 
 Chapter XXII 
 The Man with the Scar 
 
 I GIVE thee greeting, O Little Warrior," said 
 the seal-hunter with the suavest tone and 
 most profound bow. 
 
 "Thou thou Osaki?" cried Rennoske in a 
 choking voice. "Forbear! Why comest thou in 
 another's name with thy challenge? Beware I 
 stand with thousands at my back! One little word 
 and thou wouldst be in as many pieces as there 
 are leaves upon the maple. It is now no time for 
 private brawling, Osaki." 
 
 "For private brawling I come not, O leader," 
 the seal-hunter answered calmly. "Moreover, men 
 no longer call me Osaki. I am the Man with the 
 Scar upon his Breast." 
 
 "To that name I owe many things," responded 
 Rennoske, regaining his composure. "But between 
 the man they call Little Warrior and the man they 
 have called Osaki, hunter of the seal, there is bad 
 blood and a threat of death. How can I, then, 
 bow before one and hold ill-feeling toward the 
 other? Thou speakest in riddles."
 
 274 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "The riddle is solved in Osaki's death. I am 
 come from the ashes of myself. Osaki's challenge 
 fades with the cherry blossoms of spring. His words 
 are blown hither and thither like their pink petals." 
 
 "And canst thou prove thy speech?" Rennoske 
 asked, thinking the seal-hunter's tame withdrawal 
 unlike the former fiery spirit of its owner. 
 
 "Aye," Osaki answered firmly. "Call the twenty 
 men of Boruku. Call the captain of the eight and 
 sixty Knights of the Purple Lotus. Or easier 
 Yukitaka hast thou seen this face before?" 
 
 The old scholar took the torch from where it had 
 been stuck into the ground, walked over, and held 
 it before the seal-hunter's face. He peered long 
 and hard into the frank eyes. Then the torch was 
 lowered. He turned to Rennoske. 
 
 "It is even he, O leader," he said slowly. "It is 
 he who came to me in my mountain cave and told 
 me a wondrous tale of thee. He is the bearer of the 
 secret signal the one who called himself the Man 
 with the Scar upon his Breast." 
 
 Osaki smiled his old, insolent smile. 
 
 "Do you believe now, Little Warrior?" he said, 
 slowly fanning himself. 
 
 "The word of Yukitaka is sacred," Rennoske 
 replied. "Yet the riddle is not solved." 
 
 "I crave your patience. Let my deeds stand only 
 upon their completion. Let me say that it is not
 
 THE MAN WITH THE SCAR 275 
 
 for love I do them but for a greater reason. 
 When I have done more, then shall I speak." 
 
 "But why thy new name, O Hunter of the Seal?" 
 
 "Truly it is simple. I wore about my neck a 
 chain on which was a rare foreign jewel which hung 
 upon my breast. When I lay on my back upon the 
 matting, your knee upon my chest, the sharp edge 
 of this stone sank deep into my flesh. Thus do I 
 take my name from the scar of it." 
 
 Rennoske knew, in the light of the torch that 
 then suddenly blazed up and shone in Osaki's eyes, 
 that the scar was deeper than he said. What was 
 behind it all? 
 
 "What deeds are yet to do, my enemy and 
 friend?" he asked aloud. 
 
 Osaki fanned himself slowly a moment before 
 replying. 
 
 "Many, O Little Warrior. Let Yukitaka and 
 these others gather about me so that none but us 
 may hear. So ! Know, then, that I would save the 
 army from an ambush!" 
 
 "Ambush!" whispered Rennoske and the three 
 together. 
 
 "Aye," went on the seal-hunter. The lines of 
 anxiety on his face showed deeply in the light of 
 the torch upon the ground. 
 
 "Ye think the soldiers of the Matsuyama lie 
 upon the east bank of the Obigawa. Many do, in
 
 276 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 truth, as your spies have told. But the eyes of the 
 baron are many; they know you mean to enter 
 yonder pass. Thither have his soldiers marched. 
 
 "They now lie hidden behind great rocks and 
 boulders on both sides of the ravine. It is their aim 
 to let the men of Boruku, the Knights of the Purple 
 Lotus, the farmers, and the fishers, pass through, 
 then to fall upon the woodmen, who are less experi- 
 enced and poorly armed. 
 
 "They, hemmed in, will be slaughtered and the 
 leader of you all slain. Then will they turn upon 
 the others and the armored knights, crying out that 
 the Little Warrior is dead, demoralizing them and 
 driving the armored men back and separating them 
 from the main body. It is you alone they seek, 
 Little Warrior. No matter how you enter, they 
 will lie in wait till you appear. Then will they 
 strike!" 
 
 "Devilish!" cried Takagi. 
 
 "O fiend of the Mountain of Pines!" said the 
 Sorrowful Father. 
 
 "Like the fox that he is," chimed in Yukitaka. 
 
 Yet, through it all, Rennoske heard a single sen- 
 tence boom in his ears, a single sentence spoken 
 by this same voice: "Should it ever happen that 
 my fingers were about your throat, I fear I should 
 be honorably obliged to press quite hard aye 
 even to slay you."
 
 THE MAN WITH THE SCAR 277 
 
 It was the voice of this same man Osaki upon the 
 night he was to wed Kiku San. Here then was a 
 fine opportunity for his revenge! 
 
 Rennoske's voice came icy cold to the ears of 
 Osaki and the three: 
 
 "How know we that thou speakest the truth, 
 Osaki? How know we that the army of the Matsu- 
 yama are not even now ahead and behind us? 
 Should we take the pass, might we not find our- 
 selves surrounded by our enemy on all sides? Fail- 
 ing to enter the pass, might we not give them time 
 to gather their forces upon the plain and so march 
 against us?" 
 
 Again came Osaki's insolent smile. 
 
 "I see you still mistrust me," he answered in 
 his suave voice. "I see you forget not that I once 
 threatened you with death, though I have with- 
 drawn my word. It is well so. Listen, then, to 
 my plan. 
 
 "Let the twenty men of Boruku go at dawn 
 through the pass, with myself at their head. The 
 Matsuyama will see me, for you shall lend me the 
 armor that you wear. It is you that they seek, as 
 I said. What will it be but the loss of twenty and 
 myself to prove I speak the truth ? 
 
 " From yonder crag the pass can be seen. Watch 
 you there. If the black-armored knights of the 
 Matsuyama fall not upon us, then will mine own
 
 278 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 hand cut out my entrails with my sword. Is it 
 enough?" 
 
 Rennoske stood silent, legs apart, head bowed, 
 lip between thumb and forefinger. 
 
 "It shall be as thou sayest," he answered, "O 
 Man with the Scar upon his Breast." 
 
 "Quickly, quickly!" Rennoske cried, as the tall 
 figure of the seal-hunter stalked from them among 
 the sleeping figures in the faint light of a misty 
 moon. "Yukitaka, Sorrowful Father, Takagi! 
 There is work for us to-night!" 
 
 The three gathered close about him, for he spoke 
 in a soft voice. 
 
 "Listen, ye who are my brothers. This man 
 has always been mine enemy. The reasons matter 
 not. His talk sounds fair indeed, yet he may play 
 me false. A plan comes to me whereby we may 
 be safe either way. 
 
 "If the Matsuyama are hidden as he says, half- 
 way up the pass, they must be close to the way we 
 would come by. Suppose we climbed the mountains 
 on this end from both sides? Would we not be 
 above and behind them? 
 
 "If Osaki plays us false, it will be an easy mat- 
 ter to fall upon him. Yet perchance the seal- 
 hunter tells the truth. The Matsuyama will attack 
 him and the men of Boruku. Could we not fall
 
 THE MAN WITH THE SCAR 279 
 
 upon them from behind, driving them into each 
 other, tumbling upon the rocks? Thus would 
 the ambushers be ambushed. Do I speak with 
 reason ? " 
 
 Yukitaka alone found his voice. 
 
 "The divine light of the gods themselves shines 
 upon your mind. Heaven blessed you are a 
 thousand times!" 
 
 Rennoske ignored the praise; his brain throbbed 
 with action. 
 
 "Thou, Takagi," he commanded, still in a whisper, 
 "lead thou the farmers and the fishers up the right 
 slope. Travel quickly but softly. See yonder peak 
 that shows velvet-black. Halt there. Sorrowful 
 Father!" 
 
 "Here, O leader!" 
 
 "Take thou the mountaineers and the woodmen 
 up the left slope. The way is hard and stony. Yet 
 they are surefooted and slow. Halt opposite where 
 Takagi stays. Thou understandest?" 
 
 "Well, O leader." 
 
 "My signal shall be my waved sash from the 
 crag where the pine tree stood. Thou canst see 
 plainly nay, we will light a fire. The smoke 
 rising blue shall be the signal. Then swoop down 
 upon them like the hawk drive them before you 
 like swine! Brothers-in-arms, the fate of the Matsu- 
 yama is in thy hands!"
 
 280 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "At dawn, then, we shall move up the mountain?" 
 questioned Takagi. 
 
 "At dawn!" cried Rennoske. "Nay, at dawn 
 ye shall be there. Now now now! Move 
 quickly move softly! At dawn thou must watch 
 the crag where stood the pine tree. At the first 
 puff of smoke strike! If we meet not again, O 
 my brothers Saianara, I salute you!" 
 
 " Saianara, we salute you," answered Takagi and 
 the Sorrowful Father. They turned and walked 
 out of the red, flickering circle of light cast by the 
 torch on the ground.
 
 Chapter XXIII 
 
 Like Black Ants and Brown 
 
 ALIGHT drizzle of rain fell upon Yukitaka 
 and Rennoske as they lay upon the crest 
 of the peak, eyes riveted on the east. The 
 first faint gray had just illumined the sky, yet there 
 was hardly enough light for the scene below to be 
 revealed to them. 
 
 There was a rustling of dry leaves. The young 
 man knew it to be his companion piling high the fuel 
 for the fire. The light grew until, faintly outlined 
 against it, the mountains showed a black and jagged 
 jumble. Slowly their crags and boulders came into 
 view. Slowly the ravine became distinguishable. 
 
 Not a moving thing was seen upon the long and 
 narrow panorama. Rennoske sat upon his haunches 
 watching and watching. And now, plainly seen, 
 the narrow way between the walls caught the rain- 
 filtered light, while the rain-polished rocks threw 
 it back again in a weird effect. Rennoske still 
 watched the entrance. Then he saw them. 
 
 How boldly they walked, these men of Boruku,
 
 282 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 the white bands about their heads showing tiny 
 specks against the gray. Four abreast they entered 
 between the walls, like minnows into the open jaws 
 of a shark. And at their head, the armor glistening, 
 walked the boldest of all Osaki! 
 
 How could he doubt him? There could be no 
 sham there in those straight shoulders, that deter- 
 mined stride. Yet he must watch, watch, watch! 
 
 Fainter and fainter grew the bands of white; on- 
 ward they went between the dark shadow of the 
 mountain walls, the armored figure at their head. 
 Rennoske saw Osaki turn, his face but a pin point 
 of brown against the shadow. He saw the fisher- 
 men change from four abreast to two. Osaki's 
 sword now waved in the air as if he were motioning 
 his followers forward. 
 
 No, he was doing more than that. Like some 
 tinkling of memory, a sound came to him, hurled 
 from rock to rock, borne upward on the misty 
 wind. Osaki had shouted something a command 
 what could it mean? 
 
 Rennoske must now half close his lids and peer 
 out, searching the depths of that narrow defile, for 
 the men of Boruku marched quickly. At every step 
 they moved deeper and deeper into the shadow. 
 
 What was that? Black and shining, it moved 
 among the rocks. He watched it, but could not tell 
 what it was. Following it, other black, shining things
 
 BLACK ANTS AND BROWN 283 
 
 sprang up from behind the boulders, out of cracks 
 and crevices, till the pass was filled with them. 
 
 At the other side of the ravine his eye was caught 
 by more black things that popped up like jack-in- 
 the-boxes that a gnome's child might play with. 
 He saw a sword waved, heard a faint shout, and 
 the black things seemed to crawl like black ants, 
 downward on both sides. Like the coats of black 
 beetles the armor shone. The ants now flashed 
 forth something silver gray. 
 
 And now black swarm and white-topped min- 
 nows came together. The silver-gray things circled, 
 swept, flashed high, and circled again. 
 
 Thus it appeared to Rennoske, upon the top of 
 the peak, as he looked down. 
 
 Had he been nearer he would have seen the men 
 of Boruku, but twenty against a hundred, with two 
 hundred more behind them, fighting the fight of 
 desperate men. Knowing certain death was before 
 them, they faced that death with eyes shining, 
 heads erect, standing firm, while they gave back 
 blow for blow. 
 
 Osaki seemed to bear the strength of a demon. 
 Surrounded by a ring of swirling swords, he parried 
 and swung out, dealing swift death with his borrowed 
 weapon. But the borrowed armor was broken in 
 many places Osaki's blood mingled with the blood 
 of the victims of his blade, though he still stood,
 
 284 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 cutting and slashing like a man possessed. At death 
 he laughed as he swung wide and hard. 
 
 None of these details of carnage could Rennoske 
 see from his aerie. But he had seen enough to 
 convince him that the Matsuyama were hidden in 
 ambush and that the men of Boruku were falling 
 fast. He thought quickly, that if the black-armored 
 soldiers discovered that the seal-hunter was not 
 himself, they might be on their guard. He called 
 to Yukitaka, "The fire! Light the fire!" 
 
 There was the snap of the tinder box a cough 
 from the old man and another snap. Two sparks 
 fell on unresponding leaves. 
 
 Rennoske turned in a panic. The leaves were 
 wet! There were three more snaps; still the spark 
 did not catch. 
 
 In a fever he turned his eyes again quickly upon 
 the ravine. The moving white specks among the 
 black were few now. What if Takagi and the 
 Sorrowful Father saw no signal! 
 
 A sputter a crackle a tiny flame flickered 
 went out caught again! Then, with a mighty 
 swirl, the blue smoke rose in a spiral cloud. 
 
 Rennoske's hungry eyes turned again to the 
 ravine. What a sight! Were they brown ants 
 bees flies? Down they swarmed upon the black! 
 Their yells came up on fitful gusts of wind. They 
 broke no, it was the black that spread.
 
 BLACK ANTS AND BROWN 285 
 
 He saw the Matsuyama, no longer intent on 
 slaying the peasants, try to escape from the un- 
 expected trap. Some ran pellmell into the pass and 
 were lost in the shadow. Others, swinging their 
 blades before them, cut a path through the thick 
 swarm as it came down, like a fly trying to climb up 
 the inside of a bottle, against a stream of water 
 trickling through its top. 
 
 Some went up ten, some twenty, some as high 
 as fifty feet. But down they rolled, turning over 
 and over as they went, sweeping from under them 
 alike the feet of pursued and pursuer. Spear was 
 doing stabbing work, broadax singing a merry tune 
 upon the black armor! 
 
 Then there were those in the pay of the Black 
 Boar who did not care to brook the dangers of 
 either a peasant-swarming ravine or a peasant- 
 swarming incline. These ran straight for the mouth 
 of the pass, thinking to escape over the foothills, 
 taking a cross-country path to the east road and 
 the palace. 
 
 Alas! such quickly formed plans for escape were 
 as quickly frustrated as made. Instead of open 
 country and a clear road, they came face to face 
 with eight and sixty knights, armed with short 
 sword and long, armored and helmeted, waiting 
 grimly for their coming. 
 
 What little courage was left after their surprise,
 
 286 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 the last vestige of it vanished then. They rushed 
 upon the Knights of the Purple Lotus, all cunning 
 and swordsmanship thrown to the winds. 
 
 Here was no question of rudely armed peasants, 
 where every blow told on exposed flesh. They were 
 fighting soldiers knights like themselves, fully 
 and splendidly equipped, prepared and ready for the 
 fray. 
 
 The black-armored men were paid to fight for 
 the house of the Mountain of Pines. They fought, 
 and well. The Knights of the Purple Lotus were 
 paid to fight for their Daimyo, the Little Tiger of 
 Katsu and Nokodate. They were not fighting for 
 him now; but he had sent them there to fight for 
 the man they called Little Warrior. The Little 
 Tiger had a reputation of being splendidly obeyed. 
 
 What mattered who they fought for? They 
 fought because it was their business. They fought 
 because there were swords in their hands and a foe 
 before them. Rennoske saw them fight, but he 
 heard not the song of their swords. 
 
 The long sword bit through helmet and breast- 
 plate. The short slid under the joints of armpit, 
 apron, thigh plates, and through the gorget lacings. 
 If the swarm in the defile had been furious, this 
 trained file was, in its calm, cool way, doubly 
 effective. 
 
 "Come, Yukitaka," said Rennoske, turning. "We
 
 BLACK ANTS AND BROWN 287 
 
 had best descend. Much blood flows below. Like 
 a groaning table heaped with viands, to a full man, 
 it sickens me." 
 
 True as was his sentiment, there was hardly the 
 tone of disgust in his voice. Much blood flowed 
 below; but it was the blood of his foes. There was 
 no joy in watching them slaughtered, yet there was 
 the little voice within him that cried: "The victory 
 is thine. Thou hast planned it!" And though the 
 spoils of war were gruesome, he was entitled to 
 them. 
 
 Down the spiral path they toiled. It was slow 
 work, for the way was slippery from the rain. An 
 hour it took them, the wind-borne shouts growing 
 louder at each step. 
 
 As for the fight, they saw no more of that, for the 
 hill was between them and it. At length they 
 reached the foot of the slope and walked toward the 
 jutting fir tree. 
 
 Rennoske gave but a glance at the ground be- 
 tween himself and the pass. Hideous black and 
 red things lay upon it in an ominous trail. There 
 was a flash and a shout now and then from the 
 ravine, with an undernote of a clanking and clat- 
 tering din. 
 
 There was something in the shadow of the tree 
 that made him quicken his steps. 
 
 They were taking off his armor, the two Knights
 
 288 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 of the Purple Lotus who brought him there. He 
 lay upon the ground, his handsome face drawn and 
 pale, a great purple stain on the blue kimono they 
 had thrown over him. He smiled bloodily up at 
 Rennoske. All the scorn was in the smile still. 
 
 "Who lies now?" he hiccuped faintly. "I fling 
 my life at you!" 
 
 "Osaki Osaki!" Rennoske murmured, kneeling 
 beside him. "Canst thou not forgive?" 
 
 "Nay, and I cannot!" 
 
 There was still the vestige of a snarl in the seal- 
 hunter's weak voice. 
 
 "I am not so much to blame, Osaki. Thou 
 didst threaten me. Was it not meet I should have 
 doubted thee?" 
 
 " Hei what matters that now? The words of 
 Osaki are not many." 
 
 "Then tell me what changed thee from mine 
 enemy into my friend?" 
 
 "No friend am I to my duty let this cursed 
 moment be placed!" 
 
 "Duty, Osaki? I pray thee speak on." 
 
 Osaki raised himself on his elbow. His voice 
 came slowly and painfully: 
 
 "You vanquished me at the house of Miyoshi 
 and shamed me before my bride. Can I love you 
 for that? I wandered all that night, shamed to 
 return home brideless. Wandering in the woods
 
 BLACK ANTS AND BROWN 289 
 
 by Boruku I heard voices. A dwarf one was, the 
 other a hag of a woman. From them I learned " 
 
 A racking cough shook the seal-hunter's frame. 
 His head rolled from side to side while he gasped for 
 breath. 
 
 "Aye, aye, Osaki," Rennoske whispered tensely. 
 "The strangling of the dwarf and the woman 
 that was thy work, was it not?" 
 
 Osaki found strength enough to nod. 
 
 "Yukitaka, many of my followers, and the Purple 
 Lotus Knights came at thy word?" 
 
 After a long spell of coughing the nod came 
 again. 
 
 "Yet tell me why, Osaki. Why shouldst thou 
 do this for me who once threatened my life?" He 
 caught the sailor by the kimono sleeve. "Clear 
 the mystery, Osaki, tell me why." 
 
 Osaki croaked hoarsely, every word a terrible 
 effort: 
 
 "Have you not had enough? Through you have 
 I not lost all?" 
 
 The effort was too much for him. He fell back, 
 gasping and coughing. 
 
 Rennoske twisted the kimono sleeve in his sweat- 
 ing palm. 
 
 "Speak, Osaki for the love we both bear Kiku 
 San speak!" 
 
 The seal-hunter turned upon him a wild, glassy-
 
 290 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 eyed stare. His jaw worked. He spoke each word 
 between a soul-racking gasp: 
 
 "I learned hag of hell throttled them 
 ha ! ha ! You were the one the true the Pr 
 hei I" 
 
 "Yes, Osaki!" exclaimed Rennoske. "I am 
 what?" 
 
 The sailor struggled to his elbow again, while his 
 waving arm pointed a finger at Rennoske. His 
 eyes protruded in his effort to speak; but all that 
 came from his throat was a rattling, throaty gurgle. 
 
 " What what what ? " screamed Rennoske, 
 as he saw the man topple on the brink of death. 
 Once he had almost told him on the sands of Boruku, 
 again in the house of his foster-father. In his fear 
 lest the secret of his identity would go with the seal- 
 hunter, he tugged at the blue kimono sleeve. 
 
 "Speak, Osaki! Who am I?" 
 
 Osaki raised his hand above his head, saluting 
 the man before him. 
 
 "Gods spare him!" cried Rennoske. "Speak, 
 Osaki!" 
 
 But Osaki fell back, his lips forever silent.
 
 ' : Chapter XXIF 
 
 A Crawling "Thing in the Grass 
 
 A FLOCK of herons rose screeching from 
 the marsh at the approach of heavy foot- 
 steps. Their armor bright in the noonday 
 sun, two men trampled the green reeds, bending 
 and crushing them under foot. 
 
 "Come, Yoshida," called the first clanking warrior, 
 emerging upon the white highway; "it is time we 
 showed ourselves." 
 
 "So and glad I am," answered the other, 
 stamping the mud from his steel shin-plates. "An- 
 other hour in that slippery black ooze and I would 
 soon commit hara-kiri, and well I might, for me- 
 thinks that will be our end anyway, O Mori." 
 
 "And thou, too, hast caught the infection, Yo- 
 shida," answered the first speaker with a sneer. 
 "Dost fear the ugly player's mask, and art frightened 
 like a silly peasant at a Kabukil" 
 
 " Kabuki mask indeed!" answered Yoshida, the 
 stouter and rounder-faced of the two, a man who 
 loved his raw carp and rice, his geisha upon his lap,
 
 292 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 and his hot sakkee. "Yet it is better sitting in the 
 shade of a camphor tree than to chase thus after a 
 bloodthirsty peasant." 
 
 "Thou art droll, O Yoshida," answered the slim 
 and pious-faced Mori, cadaverous-cheeked and hol- 
 low-eyed. "A wildgoose chase it is not, for a sharp- 
 edged sword upon a velvet pillow awaits our failure. 
 Thou art wrong, though, concerning the talk of 
 peasant. Did not the Old Fox tell us the man was 
 the prince himself?" 
 
 "How, now?" answered Yoshida, puffing from a 
 stumble over a stone. "What base treason is this? 
 There is but one true prince, the Kuroki Obutu, 
 and he reigns in the land. Thankful am I for it. A 
 lover of ease like myself is the Black Boar. What 
 talk is this of other princes?" 
 
 Mori peered cautiously about; then, satisfying 
 himself that he was unheard in that desolate sunlit 
 waste and there were no ears in the willow and reed 
 lined road, he spoke confidently to his companion: 
 
 "Between thou and me, O Yoshida, there should 
 be agreement most perfect. Well dost thou know 
 that the throne belongs to the Ackagawa, and the 
 man we are sent to slay is Rennoske, rightful Daimyo 
 of that house." 
 
 "Indeed," answered Yoshida. "This interests 
 me. I paid but little attention while the baron 
 spoke, my mind being upon a Chinese dish a
 
 A CRAWLING THING 293 
 
 soft kind of bird's-nest I had for dinner. It was 
 only when his high excellency declared my life would 
 be forfeit if we did not slay this fellow, who, me- 
 thought he said, was a peasant. Tell me more." 
 
 "There is little else to tell," continued Mori. 
 "The boy was taken from the court when he was 
 twelve, on the day of his father's death, by one Hida, 
 his sword teacher. The baron sought to slay them 
 in the summer palace by the Inland Sea, long since 
 burned in that fight. 
 
 "It seems that by some means the Prince Rennoske 
 escaped and has dwelt these twelve years among the 
 people of the mountains. Yet the strangest part of 
 the tale is that the young man knows not that he 
 is the prince, for a blow with a sword in the hands of 
 the Black Boar when they were children, robbed him 
 of his memory and makes him at times an imbecile, 
 and to Yoshida, thou art not listening! Is it 
 the edible bird's-nest of China again?" 
 
 Yoshida snorted. 
 
 "Listening? Aye, and plenty have I heard! It is 
 enough that he is the son of the Ackagawa dynasty, 
 for they were rice eaters always, with not a carp or 
 ape for dinner from one full moon to the other." 
 
 "Then wilt thou think still less of the son," 
 laughed Mori; "for thy fat must subsist upon 
 millet and barley, with now and then a parboiled 
 bamboo sprout."
 
 294 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted Yoshida. "Of all things, I hate 
 millet worst, excepting it be barley; and if a bam- 
 boo sprout be not well cooked I would sooner 
 starve than eat it. This being so, I will send this 
 insolent rebel hellward before I have eaten one of 
 his filthy meals." 
 
 "Softly, Yoshida," said Mori; "we must work 
 slowly. First his confidence must be gained, so we 
 may be near him while he sleeps. I will try first, 
 Yoshida, and if I fail, then will it be thy turn. 
 Listen - 
 
 And heads together the two knights walked slowly 
 along the dusty, sunlit road. 
 
 Rennoske had made his camp on the other side 
 of the ravine, for owing to the complete rout of the 
 Matsuyama host, it took almost a day to gather 
 together his blood-lusted peasants. 
 
 They had pursued the fleeing black-armored 
 knights far up the mountainside, returning with 
 captured swords, helmets, and breastplates. 
 
 The wily baron had underestimated the strength 
 and cunning of his foe, for the ambushing party 
 had consisted of few more than three hundred men, 
 of which less than a hundred had escaped. The 
 peasants lost sevenscore, including the ill-fated men 
 of Boruku. 
 
 Even though the opposing army had been so small,
 
 A CRAWLING THING 295 
 
 the victory was not so hollow as it seemed. What 
 if the ambush had succeeded? What if the dead 
 Osaki's warning had not come? 
 
 Taken unawares, their army cut in half, the effect 
 of the sudden appearance of the soldiers, all experi- 
 enced men, would have had its effect on the excitable 
 peasants. Rout would have been sure, Rennoske's 
 death certain. Without him their spirit would 
 be broken and the entire cause lost. As for the 
 Knights of the Purple Lotus, although they had 
 fought nobly with a winning cause, their mettle 
 was yet to be tried by defeat. After all, it was no 
 quarrel of theirs. 
 
 Yet victory, and complete victory, had shone on 
 Rennoske's arms. There were some two hundred 
 experienced warriors fewer in the pay of his enemy, 
 while his own men had seen the bloody clash of arms 
 and heard the death-rattle in the throats of their 
 companions. 
 
 Valiantly they had borne up under the test. Yes, 
 thought the young leader, as he stood upon a flat 
 rock in the shade of a shelving one above, victory, 
 and complete victory, had been his. 
 
 "Might I humbly beg, O leader," said Takagi, 
 coming up to him, "to know what are your plans?" 
 
 "I would fain remain here over night, O Takagi," 
 he answered. "Then the men will be rested for an 
 early march at dawn."
 
 296 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Will not this give our enemy a chance to gather 
 their forces and cross the Obigawa?" asked the 
 Sorrowful Father, speaking from the rock on which 
 he squatted. 
 
 "It does not so occur to me," Rennoske replied 
 quickly. "Those who escaped have ere this rejoined 
 their companions. They will bring news that the 
 Little Warrior and his men have come through the 
 pass, and march onward. Then will they probably 
 move to this road through the marsh lands, thinking 
 to head us off before we reach the plain before the 
 palace. 
 
 " In truth we shall turn to the left, and by a day's 
 march come upon the banks of the Obigawa. The 
 stream here is far from the sea and shallow. Half 
 of our army will ford, the other half remaining on 
 the right bank. Thus we will move toward the 
 palace on both sides of the river. 
 
 "If we encounter the Matsuyama on either side, 
 our force is enough, though divided, to hold them in 
 check, while those of us on the other bank will rush 
 onward to the palace that will be almost defenseless. 
 What shall the host of the Matsuyama do then, 
 thinkest thou, O Takagi?" 
 
 The tea-planter and the Sorrowful Father answered 
 nothing. Yukitaka, lying upon his back in the cool 
 shade of the rocks, muttered something about the 
 divine light of the gods themselves shining on a mind.
 
 A CRAWLING THING 297 
 
 And he shook his old head, rubbing his bald spot 
 upon the smooth stone. 
 
 A bare-legged woodman came suddenly into the 
 silence where Rennoske stood. 
 
 "There are two knights come, O leader," said the 
 man with deferential bow. "They say their business 
 is urgent, and offer to leave their swords with me as 
 a token of their peaceful intentions." 
 
 Yukitaka sprang up hurriedly. 
 
 " Perhaps the Matsuyama sue for peace, Little War- 
 rior," he cried. "Oh, grant it not! It is not that 
 the sharp tusks of the boar may heal the havoc of 
 blood and terror he has wrought. Oh, grant it not!" 
 
 "Grant it not," said the Sorrowful Father and 
 Takagi together. 
 
 Rennoske raised his hand. 
 
 "Bid the two knights enter," he said calmly, "and 
 with their weapons. Yet stay go first to the 
 Knights of the Purple Lotus and ask in my name 
 that four accompany these two hither." 
 
 In a few moments the clanking of the six armored 
 men resounded over the rocks. From between the 
 Purple Lotus Knights stepped Yoshida and Mori. 
 The thinner knight knelt, drew both his swords 
 from his sash, hilt foremost, and laid them at the 
 feet of Rennoske. With a grunting effort the stout 
 Yoshida did the same, then both lay, face between 
 palms, upon the black stone.
 
 298 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Rise, Samurai," came Rennoske's voice. "If 
 your business be peaceful, as your offered swords 
 portend, it shall be good for myself and the knights 
 who are my companions." 
 
 Mori gave a quick glance to Yoshida, then pro- 
 ceeded in a well-rehearsed voice of submission : 
 
 "I am Mori of the Scarlet Poppy, my companion, 
 Yoshida, son of Yoshida of the Ringing Bell, sons 
 of the Samurai both. We have come to offer our 
 swords and our service, for they have grown rusty 
 among the geisha. 
 
 "We take them from one who scorns them for 
 women's deeds and bring them to one who is a 
 soldier. We take them from one who oppresses and 
 give them to one who offers freedom. We take them 
 from the service of the Black Boar and offer them to 
 the man they call Little Warrior." 
 
 So unexpected was the message that Rennoske and 
 the three stood speechless. 
 
 "Right our wrong, O man they call Little War- 
 rior," croaked Yoshida. " Bid us rise and join 
 you." 
 
 "Ye have wrongs?" asked Takagi with a stinging 
 emphasis on the first word. 
 
 "Aye," answered the stout knight. "The Black 
 Boar gave us bad food." 
 
 "Our wrongs are many, O leader," Mori said 
 quickly. "There are others at the side of the Black
 
 A CRAWLING THING 299 
 
 Boar who eagerly await your coming. The court 
 totters amid licentiousness." 
 
 The Sorrowful Father groaned. 
 
 "The women rule; all true men await your 
 coming. Many would have joined you ere this, but 
 they feared your feelings against the Matsuyama 
 would be too bitter to welcome any who had partaken 
 of their meager bounty. Thus are they between two 
 fires. We, whose wrongs at the hands of the Matsu- 
 yama are many as the cattails upon the marsh, could 
 wait inactive no longer. I had the promise, too, of 
 many who but waited to see how we were received 
 ere they, too, offered their swords at your feet." 
 
 Mori was bold enough to look up at the face of 
 Rennoske to see what effect his words had had. 
 The leader stood in deep thought. The shadow from 
 the rock above darkened half of his face. He 
 started from his reverie. 
 
 "Rise, Knight of the Scarlet Poppy," he said. 
 "Rise, Knight of the Ringing Bell." 
 
 Yoshida puffed, relieved, and scrambled to his feet. 
 1 "You are welcome among our host," Rennoske 
 continued. "Thy words are fair, O Mori, a place 
 ye shall both have at my side." 
 
 Mori shot another quick glance at Yoshida and 
 the knights bowed low again, offering a thousand 
 thanks. 
 
 Rennoske spent the afternoon among his men,
 
 300 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 showing those who had swords taken from the 
 Matsuyama how to use them. Until late in the 
 evening he drilled them, never tiring, his heart in 
 his work. Though they were an incongruous lot, 
 a pudding-faced fellow here and there under an ill- 
 fitting helmet, a brawny chest sweating under an 
 unaccustomed breastplate or shirt of chain-mail, yet 
 they had in their frank, slanting eyes the light of 
 idolatry that made his heart beat high. 
 
 He ate a silent meal with Yoshida, Mori, and the 
 three, and after a round of his camp-fires, where he 
 had a cheery word for all, went to his resting-place. 
 But sleep would not come. A sharp pain at the 
 back of his head disturbed him. He dared not 
 think of what it might portend. 
 
 Ever and anon, like the droning of bees, came 
 Yoshida's sleepy voice in answer to questions put to 
 him by the Sorrowful Father who asked for news of 
 his son. This too soon died away into silence. 
 
 There were two more under that shelving rock 
 who could not sleep. The first was Mori, because 
 he would not. The other was Yukitaka, because he 
 could not. When the wind swept over the marsh, 
 sending the rustle of it to his ears, the Knight of the 
 Scarlet Poppy would sit up and peer about him under 
 cover of the noise. Once he even tried to creep 
 toward Rennoske. 
 
 But with every stir, with every move, Yukitaka
 
 A CRAWLING THING 301 
 
 moved with him. Mori heard and felt, even though 
 he could not see, that he was watched, felt that the 
 keen eyes of the old student were upon him. Fearing 
 lest he should betray himself too soon, he let himself 
 fall softly to sleep. 
 
 At dawn the little army arose and moved onward. 
 The way was hard, for they struck through the 
 black ooze of the marsh under a broiling hot sun. 
 All day they marched in the stifling heat, yellow 
 faces shining sweaty, brown legs caked with sticky 
 mud. In the evening they came upon the banks of 
 the Obigawa and, tired, hungry, and thirsty, made 
 a hurried camp, first cooling their weary feet in the 
 stream. 
 
 Two men took advantage of the bustle of prepara- 
 tion for a whispered conversation under a drooping, 
 sheltering willow. 
 
 "It must be to-night, Yoshida," said the first. 
 "I hear from the man they call Takagi that they 
 will be upon the plain before the palace upon the 
 afternoon of tomorrow, or at dawn of the second day 
 hence. Listen then lie thou far from the prince. 
 Stir not, unless I call. Yet there is that which 
 thou must do. When the stillness and the darkness 
 that comes before the dawn are at hand, creep to 
 where he lies. If he is alive, strike with this dagger, 
 run to the river, and swim the stream. There will 
 you find me under yonder fir, whose gnarled branch
 
 302 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 spreads o'er the stream like a brown crooked elbow. 
 Dost thou understand?" 
 
 "Aye," answered Yoshida, taking the knife. "I 
 have borne enough of this dog's insolence. I shall 
 strike then, if thou failest. Failing or not, I am to 
 meet thee by yonder ape's elbow of a tree before the 
 dawn." 
 
 "It is agreed then," said Mori, through set teeth. 
 "Let us return ere we rouse suspicion." 
 
 By separate ways the two knights walked toward 
 Rennoske and the three. The night was dark. The 
 river ran by swiftly, the lap of it among the reeds 
 and the muddy shore was made doubly loud by the 
 silence in tree and grass, of bird and insect. 
 
 The army of the Little Warrior slept on the 
 sloping bank of the Obigawa, heads pillowed on 
 sinewy arms or flat upon broad backs in the wav- 
 ing grass. The willows waved over them tired 
 and worn, sailor beside mountaineer, fisherman be- 
 side shepherd, woodman breathing deeply beside 
 weary farmer. 
 
 Yoshida lay alone twoscore feet from the water's 
 edge. It was an uncomfortable night for him, son 
 of Yoshida of the Ringing Bell ! He had taken off his 
 armor in the expectancy of his early morning swim. 
 He cursed the thought that he had first looked 
 upon as a stroke of genius, for sharp stones stuck into 
 his fat back. He turned on his side, then reared up
 
 A CRAWLING THING 303 
 
 again with a smothered howl as a thick bunch of 
 stubble sank into his flabby flesh. 
 
 First it was the gnats that flew persistent about 
 his head, tickling his nostrils. Now it was the 
 mosquitoes that buzzed about his thick neck and 
 stung his bare arms and ankles. 
 
 When at length the insects left him, borne away 
 by a sharp, chill breeze that froze him to the marrow, 
 he fain would have slept. Sleep he dared not, lest 
 he should be sleeping in that horrible hour before 
 the dawn. 
 
 Ugly sounds came to his ears. At first he thought 
 it was crawling crocodiles and started up with damp 
 and bristling hair. No, it was but these pigs of 
 peasants they snored curse them! 
 
 Ever and anon he heard other sounds where Ren- 
 noske, Mori, and the three lay. Each clink, each 
 stir, each deep breath chilled his blood. Was that 
 it was that Mori's knife striking deep ? 
 
 Yoshida had known no such night of misery in all 
 the three and thirty years of his life. At length he 
 heard a faint splash and the paddle, paddle of hands 
 growing fainter over the water. 
 
 The gods of his ancestors be praised it was 
 done then! The peasant prince was slain, for Mori 
 swam the river. 
 
 Yet there was work disgusting menial work 
 ahead for Yoshida, son of Yoshida of the Ringing
 
 304 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Bell. An hour he waited. He took the dagger and 
 placed it between his teeth it was the calm before 
 the dawn. 
 
 Lying flat upon his stomach, he crawled and 
 wriggled through the long grass, a foot a yard 
 a dozen yards. And now an armored foot stuck up 
 out of the grass beside him. He crawled toward the 
 face it was Takagi. 
 
 Further he crept. His hand felt something stiff 
 and cold. He peered close to it it was another 
 hand. He followed it up to the elbow on to 
 the shoulder. He saw a still chest under a motion- 
 less kimono. 
 
 He looked at the face. The jaw hung loose, 
 drooping inward, the nose was pinched. The eyes 
 were wide open and stared glassily upward. It was 
 the face of the man they called Little Warrior! 
 
 Some one stirred at the other side of him. Yo- 
 shida became panic-stricken. What if they should 
 find him there by the side of their dead leader, the 
 knife in his teeth ? Mori's knife had done its work. 
 The man was dead quite dead. 
 
 There was another movement and a deep breath 
 beside him. His only thought was escape before 
 they discovered him. Yoshida crawled down the 
 steep bank and, parting the reeds, slid head fore- 
 most into the water. 
 
 There was another splash behind him!
 
 Chapter 
 The Rustling Reeds of Pursuit 
 
 WITH a rapidity that was remarkable even 
 to himself, Yoshida swam the cold water 
 of the Obigawa. The first splash had 
 increased now to three; distinctly he heard them 
 above his own puffing and splashing. 
 
 How many there were it mattered not. There 
 was enough terror to clutch icily at his heart. 
 
 Had Mori escaped and was he alone the scapegoat? 
 Would they torture him with fire or water if he 
 were caught? These and like horrible questionings 
 coursed through his brain as he plowed, porpoise-like, 
 through the water. 
 
 At length his feet touched the mud of the bottom. 
 He sank deep in it up to his ankles. Gods he was 
 stuck there, like a fat ox! 
 
 He heard behind him the soft, cuplike splash of 
 the swimmer's hands. Every second brought them 
 nearer. Yoshida gritted his teeth and with a mighty 
 leap landed face downward in the water. But he 
 gained what he sought, for as he fell he stretched his
 
 3 o6 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 arms at full length, and his hands gripped the base 
 of the reeds. He felt them twined about his fingers. 
 Then a tug a mighty pull and dripping, muddy, 
 slimy, he emerged upon the bank and fell crashing 
 into the grass! 
 
 But there was no rest for him. There was a splash 
 and a sucking sound behind him and he knew his 
 pursuers had reached the mud. 
 
 Through the grass he wriggled, squirmed, and 
 twisted, his object the fantastic tree that was now 
 faintly seen against the gray of the east. A snake 
 wriggled slimy over his back. He screamed, stood 
 up, and ran toward the tree. 
 
 A black something rushed at him, an arm ran 
 round his waist, and a hand was laid tightly upon 
 his mouth. Caught! No, his bulging eyes looked 
 into the face of Mori. 
 
 "Swine!" whispered the other knight in his ear. 
 "Wouldst wake the whole camp with thy yelling 
 and have them after us?" 
 
 For Yoshida had answered never a word; but 
 Mori, Knight of the Scarlet Poppy, read in the other's 
 horror-lined face the truth read that they were 
 fugitives in this marsh land, fugitives with a band 
 of death-robbed peasants after them who would 
 why dwell upon that thought, there was already a 
 rustling in the reeds close to him. 
 
 "Follow me for your life!" he cried, releasing his
 
 RUSTLING REEDS OF PURSUIT 307 
 
 hold on the quaking Yoshida, and darted among the 
 reeds. Would it never end? thought the stout 
 knight. He kept Mori's back as his guide as he 
 stumbled through the mud and grass. He dared not 
 look below, lest some twisted black root of a sunken 
 stump make him think a snake lay coiled to strike. 
 He dared not look behind lest he should see the 
 leering face of a peasant through the bars of grass. 
 
 Slowly the light in the east grew. More clearly 
 he saw Mori's back that every moment grew smaller 
 and smaller. Could it be that the other was running 
 away from him? He stopped, his breath spent, his 
 heart thumping like a hound-chased rabbit. 
 
 R-r-r-rustle sweep ! 
 
 It was the tall grass behind him! He did not look 
 back, but with the strength born of terror, ran on 
 through the mire, closing in on Mori's disappearing 
 back with every frantic leap from bog to bog. 
 
 "Mori! Mori!" he panted, spent again after a 
 struggle of a quarter of a mile. "Halt I can go 
 no further!" 
 
 To his relief he saw Mori stop. Dragging his 
 lead-seeming feet after him he came to the bog where 
 the thin knight stood. 
 
 But something in the attitude of Mori, Knight of 
 the Scarlet Poppy, made him hold his peace. The 
 expression on the cadaverous face was terrible, the 
 eyes but mere slits in the head that lay sunk upon
 
 308 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 his chest. Yoshida followed the direction of the 
 other's gaze. 
 
 In the first pink rays of the rising sun he saw, 
 through the grass, a peasant armed with a heavy 
 club, coming directly toward them. Gods had 
 they been surrounded then? 
 
 The peasant looked up and saw them. With a 
 yell he sprang out at the two, swinging his weapon. 
 Quickly did Mori move. He crouched upon his 
 haunches as the man came toward him. The 
 peasant, impelled by his sudden leap, fell sprawl- 
 ing over Mori's shoulders. Yoshida saw something 
 gleam in a circle it was Mori's knife. He heard 
 the man on the ground utter a groan. 
 
 Then looking behind him, Yoshida saw something. 
 Another peasant had just parted the reeds and 
 was moving cautiously upon Mori, who still crouched 
 upon the ground. Yoshida, terror and the fear of 
 death turning him suddenly insane, lowered his 
 head and, bellowing like a bull, ran madly at the 
 man, butting him in the pit of the stomach! 
 
 "Quick! The river!" 
 
 In a panic Yoshida turned to the right and followed 
 blindly on. He cared not now where his feet trod; 
 snakes or crocodiles had no terror for him. Mori's 
 cry of "the river" echoed through his brain. 
 
 The river? Aye, anywhere out and away from 
 this! Whether Mori meant to swim or drown him-
 
 RUSTLING REEDS OF PURSUIT 309 
 
 self mattered not in that wild moment. The water 
 was cool and would awaken him. How he longed 
 to lie down and sleep in the mire, like a hog! 
 
 The other knight had reached the bank of the 
 stream. Instead of splashing through it, Yoshida 
 saw that he crept slowly out until the water reached 
 his chest. The stout knight did likewise. 
 
 "Keep thy head under water and splash not," 
 came Mori's whisper. 
 
 Yoshida, like an infant, obeyed. Twice he sank, 
 his strength ebbing fast; but the booming roar of the 
 water in his ears spurred him on again to move his 
 arms and legs like an automaton, and he reached 
 the opposite bank. 
 
 Still following Mori's back, he stumbled on, this 
 time under the overhanging branches of a grove of 
 willows that grew close to the water's edge. The 
 gods of his ancestors be praised Mori sat upon 
 the ground. With the last spurt of his strength he 
 came beside him and fell face downward upon the 
 ground, a worn-out, quivering lump of exhausted 
 flesh! 
 
 How long he slept he knew not but a hand 
 was tugging at his shoulder. He started up, think- 
 ing he was caught at last. But it was only Mori. 
 
 "Awake, Yoshida," the slim knight whispered. 
 "None follow us. We have escaped. I would 
 question thee."
 
 3io THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "So," he answered, "I thought thee a bloodthirsty 
 peasant. Thy knife sings a good song, O Mori. 
 First the Imbecile, then those who pursue us. A 
 noble welcome we will have at the hands of the old 
 fox." 
 
 "You killed him then?" hissed Mori. 
 
 "What was the need?" answered Yoshida with a 
 shiver. "The man was already dead. I felt his icy 
 hand, saw his hanging jaw and staring eyes as he lay 
 upon the ground. We have had a fearsome time of 
 it, but the prince of the Ackagawa is dead." 
 
 "Yet you struck home to make sure when you 
 reached him?" Mori spoke in a tense whisper. 
 
 "And wherefore?" Yoshida replied, with another 
 shiver. "Why should I strike a dead man? More- 
 over, there came the stirring beside me that made me 
 fear for my life, and indeed it was one I had awaked 
 as what happened since showed. Struck home to 
 make sure? Gods of my ancestors, a man can be 
 killed but once!" 
 
 "Son of a thousand apes!" cried Mori. "What 
 needed we of this cowardly running from swine? 
 I came not near the prince, for the dog Yukitaka lay 
 ever between us. It was all I could do to escape." 
 
 "But" 
 
 "Fool! fool! fool! That which you took for death 
 was only the man's strange sickness the mark of 
 the Black Boar's sword!"
 
 RUSTLING REEDS OF PURSUIT 311 
 
 Mori rose with an effort, then turned to the staring 
 Yoshida. 
 
 "I think under yonder spreading willow tree is a 
 good place to die," he said slowly. "Wilt thou join 
 me or do the deed here alone?" 
 
 But Yoshida, son of Yoshida of the Ringing Bell, 
 never answering, rose and ran screaming from the 
 shade of the trees out into the sunlight, toward the 
 palace.
 
 Chapter 
 A Blow with the Same Sword 
 
 LOOK you, O leader!" cried Yukitaka. 
 "The river runs red in the morning sun- 
 light." 
 
 Rennoske looked. 
 
 Red ran the river between the green-reeded banks 
 toward the palace. A red river flowed toward the 
 palace and Red River was his name. The omen 
 was good, but Rennoske knew it not. Prince 
 Rennoske of the Ackagawa knew not yet his 
 identity. 
 
 To himself, in lieu of something better, he was still 
 the son of Miyoshi the Farmer. As such, and as 
 such only, he had come to be the leader of more than 
 two thousand men. Fate had played its part. 
 Another's help had added to the roll; so had a primi- 
 tive form of advertisement, the written words on 
 the trees. Yet behind it all, the young man's 
 splendid spirit was paramount. So much again for 
 hereditary training and innate warlike instinct. 
 
 As was the usual thing, the spell of his illness of
 
 A BLOW WITH THE SWORD 313 
 
 the night before gave him a brighter view of things 
 in the morning. It was as if the cogs of a wheel had 
 slipped, and on being repaired again, worked more 
 smooth than before. 
 
 "What is it, O Takagi?" he asked of the tea- 
 planter, who stood by him with questioning eyes. 
 
 "The knights Yoshida and Mori?" he responded. 
 "They are gone, O leader! Their armor lies upon 
 the ground e'en where they slept." 
 
 "How sayeth thou? What means this?" 
 
 "'Tis not so much of a loss," croaked Yukitaka, 
 his tongue in cheek and his little eyes twinkling mer- 
 rily. He had had an early morning interview with 
 four sturdy peasants. "Perhaps the simple fare of 
 our camp was too coarse for the honorable Yoshida's 
 stomach. Yet I fancy the breakfast the baron hath 
 prepared for him will be hardly to his liking. As for 
 the knight Mori he lies upon his back in the tall 
 grass, his wide-open eyes admiring the top branch 
 of a waterside willow." 
 
 And Yukitaka's eyes twinkled into the under- 
 standing eyes of Rennoske. 
 
 The order was given for the men to bathe in the 
 stream and that they should not spare themselves 
 anything they wished for breakfast. This gave 
 them the hint that they would either feed that night 
 upon the stored-up rice of the baron, or eat the food 
 dead men required none at all.
 
 3 i4 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "But hei!" said they. "Let us eat anyway, for 
 if we go empty among the spirits, we must wander 
 about kitchens in search of the food we went hence 
 without." 
 
 The start was made about an hour after sunrise. 
 According to the plans, the army was to be divided, 
 each half moving along either side of the stream. 
 
 The knights of the Purple Lotus split into an even 
 thirty-two, taking the van to give the advance a 
 more imposing front. The Sorrowful Father and 
 Takagi were to take charge of the body on the right 
 bank, while Rennoske and Yukitaka took command 
 of the' one on the left. Final orders and commands 
 came from the leader, of course, whose plan the 
 movement was. 
 
 Soon the water was a-splash as the fishers felt for 
 the ford with long boughs of willow. Finding bottom 
 as they walked, they stood in double file, while those 
 less experienced in the ways of the waters passed 
 laughing and shouting between. 
 
 One of Rennoske's bronze toe-caps was already in 
 the water. He turned to where Takagi and the 
 Sorrowful Father stood upon the bank above him. 
 He looked into their eyes. His chin was held high. 
 Firm and untrembling were his lips as he spoke: 
 
 "Thou, O Takagi, and thou, too, O Sorrowful 
 Father. We are now upon the last spoke of our 
 wheel, the last tempering of our steel. Today our
 
 A BLOW WITH THE SWORD 315 
 
 fate hangs in the balance. To you, brothers both, 
 I entrust one-half of my forces. It is not meet that 
 I call to your minds what rests with you both. 
 Should you meet the foe, hold them and fight to the 
 death. Should I come upon them, then it is your 
 duty to rush onward with all speed to the palace 
 and slay the Black Boar. Doing this, it will be time 
 enough to search for me. 
 
 "It is plain that this day many men must fall. 
 It is also plain that we who lead must give courage 
 and show the way, even should we fall ourselves. 
 I ask not that you do more than I. All I shall do 
 that the gods let me. 
 
 "Stand firm when you stand; strike hard and 
 deep. Give no quarter till it be asked, and remember 
 that it is for your homes, your wives, and the liberty 
 of the people that you strike. When the blessed 
 fruits of victory are before us, then we may smile 
 indeed, and share them. Saianara I salute you!" 
 
 " Saianari, I salute you, O leader," repeated 
 Takagi. "If those on one side of the river must fail, 
 Inari and all the gods bear me witness, it shall not 
 be the one on the right bank if I stand and face 
 these dogs alone!" 
 
 The Sorrowful Father raised his hand in silent 
 benediction. 
 
 Rennoske followed the fisher through the water 
 that came slowly and cool to his chest, then back to
 
 3 i6 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 his ankles again. He soon came upon the opposite 
 bank, his armor dripping into the willow-reflected 
 water. 
 
 The Knights of the Purple Lotus were drawn up 
 before, his woodmen behind him. He drew his 
 sword. 
 
 " Forward, children of the Rising Sun ! " he shouted. 
 "Forward for your homes, forward for your freedom! 
 Death to the Matsuyama!" 
 
 "Death to the Matsuyama!" repeated the men, 
 clashing and clanking through the brake. The cry 
 rippled and re-echoed over the water. 
 
 "Death to the Matsuyama!" it thundered back 
 over the stream from those on the opposite bank. 
 
 The advance upon the stronghold of the enemy 
 was begun! Flashing bronze, blue, and silver in the 
 sunlight, reflecting dull upon sweaty face of yellow 
 and knotty leg of brown snapping of twig, tramp- 
 ling of dry grass, parting of rustling reed. Thus 
 moved the army of the man they called Little War- 
 rior, on both banks of the gentle-flowing Obigawa 
 that fateful August morning. 
 
 Slowly the stream widened, smaller grew the 
 sparkling host upon the other green bank. Noon 
 came and early afternoon. Still they marched on. 
 
 It was Yukitaka's old eyes that saw them first. 
 
 "See, O leader!" he cried out. "See the 
 Matsuyama!"
 
 A BLOW WITH THE SWORD 317 
 
 "Where?" answered Rennoske, following with his 
 eye the pointing of the long-nailed finger. 
 
 "Yonder, upon the sloping, treeless rising, aye, 
 and a goodly number of them." 
 
 Rennoske looked upon the other bank of the river. 
 Drawn up in a glistening crescent, there stood the 
 fearsome black armor, motionless and terrible, upon 
 the sloping bank. Rennoske gave the word to halt. 
 
 "Gods!" Yukitaka cried. "Here are we divided 
 by the stream, while they are together in a body. 
 Fools we were so to do!" 
 
 "Thou forgettest thyself. It is thus I had 
 planned. Watch!" 
 
 He stepped to the rippling brink of the river and 
 made a trumpet of his hands. 
 
 "O Takagi!" rang out his clear voice. "O 
 Sorrowful Father. Hold them! Drive them back!" 
 
 A pause, where the breathing of the peasants 
 sounded loud. "Them ba-a-a-ack!" rang out the 
 echo. 
 
 "We sta-a-a-and, leader!" was wafted back over 
 the water. "We sta-a-a-a-and, O le-e-e-ader!" rang 
 the vibrating echo. 
 
 "See!" came Yukitaka's voice. "The black line 
 charges!" 
 
 Down the hill the Matsuyama thundered. Fully 
 five hundred they must have numbered; their swords 
 flashed as they tore down, each knight and squire
 
 3 i8 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 screaming his battle-cry. An answering yell went 
 up from the peasants. 
 
 Rennoske saw the Knights of the Purple Lotus, 
 swords held point outward as they ran in a straight 
 even file, lead the returning charge, while his faithful 
 followers came quickly at their heels, brandishing 
 their spears, axes, and clubs, whirling their new- 
 found swords. It was divinely terrible, terribly 
 beautiful. 
 
 But twenty feet separated the onrushing hosts, 
 ten five gods! The rending, shrieking, grinding 
 of that crash as they met! 
 
 The Knights of the Purple Lotus planted both feet 
 into the soft earth and stood their ground. Then, 
 the long sword swinging wide and the short jabbing 
 straight, they began to kill. The line they made 
 extended but forty yards from end to end. 
 
 From behind each end, their front protected, the 
 peasants swarmed. The woodmen came first. So 
 sudden was this flank movement upon the black- 
 armored knights that it took them entirely by sur- 
 prise. Before they were fully aware of it, broadaxes 
 were swinging about their heads, broadaxes that had 
 spent from ten to twenty years cutting down great 
 oaks, wielded by sturdy arms that had sunk them into 
 the juicy bark. The armor that could stand against 
 them was not among the host of the Matsuyama! 
 
 The shepherds and the mountaineers were not far
 
 A BLOW WITH THE SWORD 319 
 
 behind. On numbers they depended, their trick 
 being quickly to single out one knight, then three at 
 him at once, to make short shrift. One pole with 
 its pointed knife was thrust straight for the throat 
 at the gorget lacings, the second aimed for the 
 armpit, while the third pried under the jointed 
 apron for the groin. 
 
 Many a knight who served the Black Boar 
 regretted that he had done so, for he fell prone on 
 his face, bleeding from three simultaneous wounds 
 before he had time to raise his sword. 
 
 But the fight was not altogether as one-sided as 
 it may seem. One advantage the Matsuyama had. 
 While most of their troop had charged down the 
 hill, there still remained some upon its crest. The 
 archers these were, some fifty-odd. 
 
 From their point of vantage they poured down a 
 deadly rain into the thick of the peasants. Their 
 aim was true, the target easy, for it was simple to 
 single out the many-colored, moving mass among 
 the black. 
 
 To Rennoske, on the opposite bank, all was a 
 jumble of steel, cloth, and armor, faces, spears, and 
 helmets, with the deafening clamor and shriek of it 
 all. Long could he have stayed and watched that 
 broth of carnage to see how fared his beloved peas- 
 ants. Aye how he longed to be with them in their 
 trial ! But there was work for him to do.
 
 320 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Advance, my children!" he shouted. "The 
 way to the palace lies straight ahead. Swift as the 
 morning wind advance!" 
 
 With a shout they broke forward on a run, their 
 hurrying feet making a thumping through the mud 
 and grass. As they began their dash, from the 
 foremost runner to the last straggler, the cry from 
 across the river rang out for them to hear: "We 
 sta-a-a-and, O le-e-e-eader!" 
 
 Onward they went! 
 
 Once again did the Baron Matsuyama underesti- 
 mate the cunning of his opponent. He had guarded 
 but one side of the river, hearing from his scouts that 
 the rebellious peasants advanced upon the right side. 
 They had evidently been misled by the fact that he 
 made a camp there and did not cross the stream. 
 
 A yell from the archers on seeing the dash of 
 Rennoske's band caused a cessation of their deadly 
 fire. Their commander, thinking to halt the running 
 division, bade his men shoot across the river, at the 
 runners. Most of their arrows fell short, whereupon 
 they ran along the bank, shooting as they went. 
 
 Unwittingly, these very archers sealed the doom 
 of their own army. As has been told, their arrows 
 were the most effective means of holding in check 
 the bloodthirsty peasants. These deadly shafts ceas- 
 ing suddenly, sword, spear, and broadax went at it 
 again with redoubled vigor.
 
 A BLOW WITH THE SWORD 321 
 
 Naturally, the black-armored men looked to see 
 what became of their allies with bow and arrow. 
 Some thought that they fled, while others, divining 
 the true state of affairs, knew that Rennoske and 
 Yukitaka made for the palace. Soon that cry went 
 through the ranks and the archers were followed by 
 a running band of re-enforcements. 
 
 The turning-point in the fight was that move. 
 The first file of the Matsuyama supporters were 
 now facing a doubly courageous, death-defying mass 
 of howling peasants, led by strange-looking foreign 
 Samurai who fought like demons. 
 
 They called for aid they looked behind for that 
 aid. What did they see but their own former com- 
 panions-in-arms, stumbling and clattering over the 
 plain, away from them! 
 
 It was too much for human instinct, too much for 
 half-hearted desire, to die for a ruler that had not 
 been overzealous in looking after their welfare. By 
 twos and threes, dozens and scores, they, too, turned 
 and ran! 
 
 After them, like falcons swooping upon their prey, 
 came the swifter-footed, lighter-equipped peasants, 
 cutting them down as they fled, or taking them 
 prisoners as they flung away their swords and cried 
 for quarter. 
 
 Fate now played one of her many strange tricks. 
 In the first battle, when Rennoske met defeat at
 
 322 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 the hands of the Black Boar at Hachinohe, a small 
 tributary of a river had been his undoing. It now 
 capped the climax of the defeat of the Matsuyama. 
 It was not the same stream. They had crossed 
 it that morning, further up, where it was narrow and 
 shallow. Here, where it flowed into the Obigawa, 
 it was too broad and deep for armored men either to 
 swim or ford. Fighting peasants behind them, the 
 stream ahead, the army of the Black Boar surren- 
 dered in great numbers, while others fled for safety 
 in the adjoining woods. 
 
 But how fared his men on the right bank of the 
 river was now no concern of Rennoske's. The 
 palace being his aim, he spurred his followers on in 
 that mile and a half, outdistancing the arrows, till a 
 something rewarded him. 
 
 That long, even line of dark-green light and 
 shadow, over there to his left, wa's that not the 
 famous grove of camphor trees that surrounded the 
 palace grounds ? Those long, low buildings, tiled in 
 red, their bamboo sides glistening in the sun through 
 the trees, were they not the very home of the house 
 of the Mountain of Pines? Gods at last! 
 
 As he pointed with his sword and bade his men 
 halt in their double-quick, there was borne to his 
 ears the buzzing of many gongs. A banner waved 
 among the trees steel glinted he was to have 
 a fight for it then!
 
 A BLOW WITH THE SWORD 323 
 
 He called a halt to give his men a breathing space. 
 Behind him flowed the river, golden through the 
 fringe of the green banks in the sloping afternoon 
 sunlight. In a succession of green waves, like 
 motionless waves of the sea, toward the long, even 
 line of trees, the ground rolled upward. These 
 trees crossbarred the grouped buildings, fountains, 
 flowers, and blooming shrubs behind them. 
 
 A road, or rather a path, led down from them to 
 the water's edge, where a pennon-fluttering barge 
 was fastened to a stone quay, used, no doubt, for 
 pleasure excursions of the court on the river. 
 
 The shouting behind him on the right bank came 
 intermittent now on the afternoon breeze that blew 
 gently and peacefully, bearing the sweet scent of 
 river and meadow with it. The buzzing of the 
 gongs, too, died away. 
 
 "Woodmen to the right! Yeomen to the left!" 
 he cried. "Knights of the Purple Lotus, on ye I 
 call. Make a square about me. When they tire 
 from the first shock, then will we at them. But 
 hold ye the square. The badger turns in his hole 
 hold steady they come!" 
 
 Come indeed they did, the last of the Matsuyama, 
 down the slope in a flying wedge. In front the 
 banner, white, bearing a boar's head in black. There 
 might have been fifty to a hundred of them, their 
 battle-cries sounding shrill. Soon each helmet and
 
 3 2 4 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 breastplate was distinguishable, here a twisted carp, 
 there a chrysanthemum in gold, a white-enameled 
 swan a bronze tiger's claw. 
 
 Yet heraldry counted not for everything the 
 woodmen's axes fell upon the crests, the swords and 
 spears of the farmers pried under breastplates. In 
 spite of this, the wedge moved ever forward toward 
 the square. 
 
 Desperate men, these! To the Black Boar they 
 owed their lives and their livelihood. Slippery was 
 their ground if he fell. Each, like a cornered rat, 
 fought with every ounce of strength. The peasants' 
 ranks were broken through they crossed swords 
 with the square! 
 
 Rennoske, his nails sinking into the wood of his 
 sword-hilt, stood with spread legs in the midst of the 
 clattering, shrieking, groaning, cursing din. The 
 upward parry and downward sweep of a hundred 
 swords gleamed and circled, white and red, all about 
 him. Crash thud! Armor rattled at his feet. 
 A man his own size and stature stood before him. 
 Inky black was his glistening armor, a crimson- 
 dripping sword he held in both hands. Over his 
 helmet, like a monk's hood, was the skin of a black 
 boar's head, under the tusks of which met two black 
 brows over black, snapping eyes. He was face to 
 face with the Black Boar! 
 
 "Aha the Imbecile!" cried the usurper through
 
 A BLOW WITH THE SWORD 325 
 
 the muffling hair. "Now let me finish what I began 
 in my childhood!" 
 
 He swung the sword, but the blow fell upon the 
 flat of Rennoske's. There was an answering cut, 
 too swift for the Black Boar's parry. The sword 
 bit deep into the black armor. 
 
 There was a roar of pain from the Black Boar. 
 A light of hate seemed to sparkle like fire in his eyes, 
 while he threw himself forward like a madman. 
 
 "Matsuyama, Kuroki Obutu!" he shrieked. 
 
 Somehow the name, the familiar voice, caused a 
 shiver to run through Rennoske's frame. The 
 helmet was a ton on his head, the breastplate was 
 smothering him. What was that which seemed to 
 turn his brain into solid ice, the blood in his veins 
 to icy water? He tried to raise his arms. Gods! 
 He could not! 
 
 Quick as the darting tongue of a snake, the Black 
 Boar saw his advantage. He circled the sword over 
 his head and brought it down with all his strength 
 upon Rennoske's helmet. 
 
 The brass was cloven in two, each half fell clatter- 
 ing to the ground. A thin, bloody gash showed 
 through the hair on Rennoske's scalp! 
 
 Again the Black Boar's sword circled, again he 
 swung with all his strength. The blow fell but 
 on the flat of the sword ! 
 
 For like the fire of a thousand suns upon the ice
 
 326 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 of a glacier, the ice of Rennoske's brain melted; 
 boiling water was in his veins. A name, unknown, 
 unremembered, sprang to his lips. He screamed. 
 
 " Ackagawa, Rennoske!" 
 
 "Gods, he knows!" cried the Black Boar. 
 
 That was all he said, for in a twinkling Rennoske's 
 sword cut clean through the boar's skin, helmet, 
 and skull. The Black Boar whirled, fell on his 
 shoulder, turned, writhed, twisted then he lay 
 still.
 
 Chapter XXFII 
 
 Red River and Mountain of 
 Pines 
 
 UNDER a heavy canopy of crimson velvet, 
 brocaded with gold and silver thread in odd, 
 fantastic designs representing the deeds of 
 warriors, seated upon a rug composed of the single 
 skin of a huge tiger, was Rennoske, hereditary 
 Daimyo of the province. 
 
 Hereditary Daimyo of the province! He had been 
 that since his twelfth year; now he was in his twenty- 
 first and but for a week had he known it. For the 
 blow of the Black Boar's sword, the same sword that 
 had caused his malady, cured it by an odd surgical 
 trick. 
 
 Daimyo of the province at last! Was it really 
 true? He looked about the long room with its 
 heavy, hand-woven matting of sweet-smelling grass, 
 its hangings of lavender silk, its lamps of suspended 
 glass on coral strings that jingled and tinkled in the 
 soft morning wind. 
 
 The Sorrowful Father bent over a couch in the
 
 328 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 farthest alcove, where lay his wounded son, the son 
 that had fought with the Black Boar in that last 
 dying rally. The wound, a fleshy one in the shoul- 
 der, did not look dangerous, and the father sat and 
 watched with forgiving eyes. 
 
 At Rennoske's left, a green inkhorn and many 
 brushes before him, squatted an engrossed Yukitaka, 
 busily engaged in writing on a scroll of rice paper a 
 new code of laws. 
 
 The prince, for now he was again, sat thinking of 
 the many events that had happened since he regained 
 the throne of his childhood that had been stolen from 
 him. 
 
 Takagi and the Sorrowful Father, as is known, had 
 routed and completely defeated the army of the 
 Matsuyama on the right bank of the Obigawa. 
 Those that had surrendered came along with the 
 victorious peasants and asked permission from 
 Rennoske to gather by the old stronghold of the 
 furious Fifty to discuss the unexpected event of 
 serving a new Daimyo, who turned out to be the 
 legitimate ruler of the province. 
 
 They sent out emissaries to their fellows who had 
 fled, calling them back to look the new situation in 
 the face. The new Daimyo, being no peasant at all, 
 it altered matters in the eyes of these born aristo- 
 crats. It came suddenly to their minds how grossly 
 they had been fooled by the Matsuyama.
 
 MOUNTAIN OF PINES 329 
 
 After all, a Daimyo was a Daimyo to them, be he 
 House of the Red River or Mountain of Pines. 
 What was the difference so long as they received 
 their koku, the so-and-so many bags of rice per year 
 for their wives and families? A vote was taken, and 
 it was the unanimous verdict of the whole three 
 hundred of them to offer allegiance to the Ackagawa 
 by presenting their swords and service at the feet of 
 the Prince Rennoske. 
 
 A feast was cleverly ordered, where victorious 
 peasant and defeated Samurai sat down side by side. 
 At this banquet Rennoske offered to grant knight- 
 hood to any who would swear lifelong fealty to 
 him, for his army was wofully lacking in numbers. 
 Twenty fishers, ten yeomen, and thirty woodmen 
 answered the call. 
 
 The climax was capped when he put them in charge 
 of the born Samurai, to be taught the gentle art of 
 both manners and warfare. Then he sent the entire 
 combined force of peasant-knight and born noble 
 against the Baron Matsuyama, who had taken refuge 
 in his forest stronghold. It was for their return 
 he was now waiting. 
 
 Little by little the greater body of the peasants 
 were returning to their homes. The godowns, the 
 great mud storehouses, were thrown open to them 
 and every man given as many bags of rice as he 
 could carry, together with a handful of shining
 
 330 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 yen and a promise of lifelong exemption from the 
 provincial land-tax. 
 
 Takagi, too, and his fifty coolies had departed, 
 for he had found his daughter, the unhappy wife, and 
 now the happy widow, of one of the Black Boar's 
 slain knights. He had refused Rennoske's offer of 
 a place in the kingdom, saying that a restored 
 daughter and the knowledge that his tea plantations 
 would be free from devastating raids was reward 
 enough. 
 
 The Sorrowful Father had been given the lands of 
 Yoshida of the Ringing Bell and delicate palate. 
 He was to take possession of them when his son was 
 well enough to be moved. 
 
 Only Yukitaka remained, old Yukitaka, in whose 
 eyes Rennoske read a knowledge of many things. 
 Yukitaka had known who he was, as Osaki had; of 
 that he felt certain. 
 
 Under the heavy canopy of crimson velvet, bro- 
 caded with gold and silver thread, on a perfect tiger- 
 skin, Rennoske sat and watched old Yukitaka as he 
 mumbled and nodded, the brush in the long-nailed 
 fingers flying fast. 
 
 "One thing methinks thou hast forgotten, O 
 Yukitaka," said he. "There is a message for the 
 land of China." 
 
 "To what effect, O my prince?" 
 
 "One Iwashi and five others dwell there as slaves,
 
 MOUNTAIN OF PINES 331 
 
 if they are living. Let the next ship bear their 
 ransoms, for they are the crew of the Maya Maru, 
 owned once by the dead seal-hunter who befriended 
 me. Befriended and helped me, though he was 
 mine enemy, befriended me against his will, because 
 he knew me to be the prince. It is thus that I 
 would but poorly repay him." 
 
 "It shall be done. Would you deign to write the 
 letter to the Daimyo of the Purple Lotus ? " 
 
 "Nay, for that I will trust thee, being better at 
 the letters than I am. Thou canst tell him I send 
 back the knights, now but seven and fifty, having 
 lost twelve. As a gift there shall be the twelve 
 wagonloads of rice, each drawn by four snow-white 
 oxen say, too, I will keep the sword and armor as 
 a token of his kindness, and that he may ever call 
 upon me for aid should trouble beset him." 
 
 "Spoken well and truly, O my prince," answered 
 Yukitaka, with a grave nod. "Can I write it as 
 well, it shall be a noble message." 
 
 And the brush between them, the long-nailed 
 fingers danced over the paper. 
 
 Dinner over, and still Rennoske sat, still Yukitaka 
 wrote. Outside the carved and gilded posts that 
 held up the roof of red slate-tiles, the bees droned 
 among the hollyhocks, while the fountain in the 
 broad stone court shone pearly in the afternoon sun. 
 
 Not a moving figure was seen among the gardens
 
 332 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 of stunted trees, the fantastically trimmed hedges 
 and the star-formed, crescent and circular flower 
 beds, that at even distances from each other, blazed 
 brilliant in the sunlight in variegated hues. 
 
 "Hoi! hoi! hoi!" sounded through the trees. 
 
 Rennoske's eyes brightened, Yukitaka's hand 
 stopped. 
 
 "Hoi! hoi! hoi!" it came again, a second's pause 
 between each cry, the last louder than the one before 
 it. The staccato shouting reached a crescendo out- 
 side the posts, and a palanquin, borne by six tall 
 Koreans, halted. 
 
 The gilded shafts were set down by the twelve 
 sturdy arms. From under silken curtains a white- 
 stockinged foot was thrust out of the litter. Another 
 followed it. Soon a stiff, black haori over a black 
 kimono came next, a tall man wearing them stood 
 up, straightened himself, and with a majestic air 
 walked between the carved pillars, while he slowly 
 fanned himself. 
 
 Thinner was the long black mustache, more 
 wrinkled the aristocratic and haughty face. There 
 was a marked mixing of glossy black silk in the elab- 
 orately dressed topknot, a shininess to the shaven 
 head. Yet the skull was as well-formed, the eyes as 
 fiery, the thin-lipped mouth as firm and cruel. Ten 
 years had made but little difference in the face of 
 His High Excellency the Baron Matsuyama.
 
 MOUNTAIN OF PINES 333 
 
 "Thou sittest in high places, peasant," said he to 
 Rennoske in biting tones. He bowed not, but stood 
 erect as he had entered. 
 
 "Surly as ever thou art, O king of foxes," answered 
 Rennoske suavely. "Is it thus thou wouldst sue 
 for peace?" 
 
 "'Thou,' not me!" roared the other. "I am His 
 High Excellency the Baron Matsuyama!" 
 
 "And 'thou' not me!" answered Prince Rennoske 
 haughtily. "Bow thy head to the earth. No peas- 
 ant am I. I am Rennoske, Prince of the Ackagawa!" 
 
 Terrible must have been the struggle within the 
 baron's soul by the expression of his face. Con- 
 sternation that Rennoske knew his name and birth- 
 right was written there. Hatred, bred of many 
 years, shone from his fine eyes. Yet slowly those 
 eyes lowered under Rennoske's imperious gaze, 
 slowly the knees bent until the baron lay face between 
 palms prone on the matting. 
 
 "You have sent for me, O prince," he mumbled. 
 "I am here, a crushed and forsaken old man. What 
 would you of me ? " 
 
 "Rise, wolf that now whines because he is tooth- 
 less," said Rennoske in a stinging tone, still squat- 
 ting on the rug, arms akimbo. "I would many 
 things of thee, O high excellency. There are ques- 
 tions I look for answers. Hast swallowed thy 
 spleen?"
 
 334 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 The baron rose to his feet again, wearily it seemed. 
 He nodded assent, stroking his long black mustache. 
 
 "First, O Pine Mountain snake, where is my 
 mother?" 
 
 "Thy mother?" echoed his high excellency as if 
 in answer to a ridiculous question. "I recall not thy 
 mother." 
 
 "Gods!" cried Rennoske in a rage. "A pair of 
 white hot pincers on thy toes would perhaps make 
 thee more civil. They are to be had and quickly 
 answer me!" 
 
 The baron shivered, his eyes rolled. 
 
 "Thy mother is even now among the blessed 
 saints," he faltered. "She died soon after Hida 
 took thee hence." 
 
 "Aye and at thy filthy hands!" 
 
 "Nay by the gods of my ancestors I 
 swear " 
 
 "Silence! There is no oath sacred from thy lips. 
 It is not in me to believe aught that thou sayest. 
 Yet dead I thought she must be. What wouldst 
 thou?" 
 
 The baron looked as if he would ask a question, he 
 cringed and bent low. 
 
 "There was a woman," he whined. "One 
 Madame Golden Glow. Did it so happen that your 
 sublime highness saw aught of her? Old she was, 
 while a dwarf "
 
 MOUNTAIN OF PINES 335 
 
 "Enough," snapped Rennoske. "It pleases me 
 to say that both the hag and the apelike thing, her 
 companion, lie strangled in a rotting shoji on the 
 marsh that lies by the white road to Boruku unless 
 the crows have made a meal of them." 
 
 There was the faintest trace of a tear in the baron's 
 eyes, the slightest trembling of his lip. 
 
 "She meant to serve me," he muttered, while 
 Rennoske listened with interest. "Her power was 
 waning, she thought, and after the dwarf came out 
 of his sickness and he told her where your highness 
 lay hidden, she went to fetch you, unknown and 
 unbidden by me. 
 
 "Yet did I learn of the mountainside shoji where 
 you dwelt, or one near it, so I sent a company of 
 knights thither. Poor fool! When they reached 
 there they found you gone. It is to her you owe 
 your life, for in thinking to aid me, she bungled my 
 plans and all the soldiers found in that shoji was " 
 
 "Was a defenseless man and woman, whom they 
 slew, and a gentle maiden whom they stole, and then 
 burned the house to the ground," interrupted Ren- 
 noske, suddenly remembering the enormity of his 
 wrongs at this man's hands. "It is thus that I 
 would question thee. Where is the maiden they 
 call Kiku San?" 
 
 The baron laughed. 
 
 "You speak in riddles, prince. Kiku San I
 
 336 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 know no Kiku San. What have I to do with the 
 lusts of the Samurai that were once in my pay. No 
 woman dwells in my palace by that name." 
 
 "Fiend!" cried Rennoske, springing to his feet 
 and snatching a short dagger from his sash. "Tell 
 me where lodges the girl or I will deny thee the honor 
 of death at thine own hands. Where is my heaven- 
 sent betrothed?" 
 
 "Your betrothed," answered the baron calmly. 
 "Why did you not say so before? Your betrothed, 
 indeed safe she is in my palace awaiting but the 
 word that makes her your wife." 
 
 Rennoske's upraised arm fell limp at his side. He 
 breathed deeply. 
 
 "I thank thee for this crumb of comfort," he said 
 thickly. " For once thou hast spared me when thou 
 couldst have struck." 
 
 "Your betrothed," the baron went on in pleasant 
 tones, "that is another matter. It was upon this 
 subject I came to visit your supreme highness, though 
 an army howled outside for my blood. The goddess 
 of beauty herself could not be more fair. Health 
 sits upon each cheek and sparkles bright from her 
 eyes." 
 
 "And is she sad or cheerful?" asked Rennoske, his 
 anxiety getting the better of his hate. 
 
 "Sad always," answered the baron. "Does she 
 not long for you?"
 
 MOUNTAIN OF PINES 337 
 
 "Aye," the prince sighed. "Thus was it ever, 
 though I was blind to the cause." 
 
 "Now do you talk like a true son of the Red 
 River," continued the baron, fanning himself slowly. 
 "An anxiety for your betrothed is but natural. Now 
 talk you like a true prince. Long may you reign in 
 peace. Is this not better than talk of unknown 
 geisha? Is this not better than prating of one 
 Kiku San?" 
 
 Rennoske felt like a man awakening on a bed of 
 silk to find a serpent coiled about his neck. 
 
 . "What meanest thou, smiling villain? One mo- 
 ment thou talkest of my betrothed, and then again 
 dash my hopes to earth. Speak plainly!" 
 
 The baron, ruffled, drew back from Rennoske's 
 face that peered close to his. 
 
 "Plain enough I speak," answered his high excel- 
 lency. "You ask for your betrothed. I tell you 
 she is sound and well. I know of no Kiku San or 
 of any betrothal of your imbecility. I mince not 
 words. When I say your betrothed, thus do I 
 mean." 
 
 Rennoske laughed wildly. 
 
 "It is thou now who art the imbecile," he cried. 
 "To whom am I betrothed if it is not to Kiku San?" 
 
 The baron fluttered his fan against his silk-clad 
 chest, ten, fifteen, twenty times. Then came his icy 
 voice.
 
 338 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "I forget your memory failed you, O prince. I 
 recall the day perfectly. Your father stood for 
 you, the commander of his Samurai was the middle- 
 man, while I stood for my niece, your betrothed, the 
 Princess Misono San." 
 
 At first the whole thing struck Rennoske as a 
 huge comedy. He, the Daimyo, betrothed before 
 he understood the meaning of the word ? And who 
 was the Princess Misono San? 
 
 He had an odd memory of a saucy child who threw 
 a teacup at her nurse. It was all too insanely 
 ridiculous for a second thought. And yet 
 
 His father had made the bargain that made it 
 sacred. There were witnesses iron-bound custom 
 raised its horrid head to cry, "You must!" No, no, 
 no, he could not! 
 
 "Listen, son of the Ackagawa!" 
 
 The baron's cold voice sounded through the chaos 
 of his brain. 
 
 "The peasants flocked to your standard when you 
 raised it against me. Yet did they all follow? Think 
 you none were with us ? We did not grind all, many 
 were stanch to our black. 
 
 "What do these think of you? What do our 
 knights of the Samurai think of you? Like a tiger 
 behind a screen will there be ever the growlings of 
 revolt. A miserable, hunted life will you lead, and 
 to crush down the spirit of those who would turn
 
 MOUNTAIN OF PINES 339 
 
 against you, will you oppress and punish aye 
 and slay even as we have done." 
 
 "Stop, stop, stop!" cried the prince. "I would 
 hear no more!" 
 
 But the baron was not to be silenced. 
 
 "Look into my face, son of the Ackagawa." 
 
 Rennoske looked. 
 
 "See the lines of care, see the sleepless nights in 
 mine eyes. See the days of terror on my lips. Thus 
 will it be with you, ever half upon a fence of bamboo, 
 fearing to turn this way or that lest it break beneath 
 you. Thus will it be with you, son of the Ackagawa 
 thus will it be with you!" 
 
 "It is not true! Tell me it is not true, O Yuki- 
 taka!" shrieked Rennoske, turning to the old 
 student. 
 
 But Yukitaka was silent. 
 
 "Like a single path through the heaped-up 
 snows of a mountain, there is a clear way out." 
 The baron was speaking again. "Marry my niece 
 as your father intended. Marry my niece as I 
 would have had you do, had I the last ten years 
 of my life to live again. Then will the houses of 
 the Red River and the Mountain of Pines be 
 joined together in harmony, and the kingdom will 
 dwell in peace." 
 
 "Thy way to heaven lies through perdition," 
 Rennoske cried out in agony. "Out, out of my sight,
 
 340 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 king of foxes, lying, tempting, slandering devil ! Thy 
 path alone lies clear!" 
 
 "And I will take it, O prince," the baron answered 
 calmly. "The sword of the Matsuyama is not yet 
 sheathed. Remember that, son of the Ackagawa. 
 Remember that!" 
 
 Slowly fanning himself, the Baron Matsuyama 
 stalked majestically through the carved posts and 
 back to the litter. Soon the hoi of the carriers echoed 
 through the still evening air, fainter and fainter. 
 Then it died away, drowned by the droning of the 
 bees and the gentle rustle of the leaves of the lilac 
 bushes. 
 
 Yukitaka still wrote. The Sorrowful Father 
 watched his sleeping son. Rennoske, his face like 
 stone, sat under the heavy canopy of crimson velvet, 
 brocaded with gold and silver thread in odd, fantas- 
 tic designs, representing the deeds of warriors.
 
 ,.;; Chapter XX F 711 
 
 An Honorable Ceremony of 
 Marriage 
 
 THE great stone court before the palace that 
 held the throne-room shone with myriad- 
 colored globes. They were the thousand 
 feast lanterns, that hung, row on row, like glow- 
 worms against the soft blue shades of night. They 
 glimmered among the camphor trees; they cast more 
 fantastic shadows behind the fantastic hedges. They 
 shone mellow on the lilac bushes reflected, waver- 
 ing images, in the pool before the fountain. 
 
 Under the red-tiled roof, inside the building itself, 
 they shone on variegated shades of silk of kimono, 
 sash, and haori. 
 
 In the throne-room there was apparently a great 
 to-do. A hundred gaily clad men and women were 
 crowded into its low length, with its lavender hang- 
 ings and coral-beaded, tinkling lamp. In and out 
 among the crowd dainty maidens in blue went soft- 
 footed, bearing lacquer trays on which were dainty 
 porcelain cups filled with steaming rice wine.
 
 342 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Old men drank and bellowed loudly for more. 
 Smooth-faced young men, with crested haoris, hand- 
 embroidered with their coat-of-arms, drank, too. 
 Their narrow-slanting eyes were soon roving about 
 the room, picking out the fairest of the women. The 
 eyes sparkled brighter. 
 
 The dainty ladies, too, sipped at the pretty cups, 
 laughed, giggled, and hissed, casting up shy little 
 glances over the tops of their fans back at the young 
 men or lowering heavy-lashed lids again as gouty 
 husband beside them scowled. 
 
 With every lull in the talk and the laughter the 
 monotonous strumming of samisen and tsudsume 
 rose and fell in tinkling waves. 
 
 The brocaded canopy of crimson velvet was now 
 the background for two figures. One was a young 
 woman in a kimono of pale-blue embroidered with 
 pink seashells and held together by a pink, watered 
 silk sash. In her glossy black hair were many orna- 
 ments of gold, set with turquoises and pink coral. 
 About her neck was a fine iron chain, from which 
 dangled a single black pearl, the color of her house. 
 For this with her little upturned nose, black-lined 
 eyes, thin painted lips, high cheek bones like her 
 uncle was the Princess Misono San, last of the 
 Matsuyama. 
 
 Beside her stood a young man in crimson kimono, 
 sash, and haori of the purest raw silk. On his finger
 
 CEREMONY OF MARRIAGE 343 
 
 gleamed a single ring, set with a deep red, pigeon- 
 blood ruby, the color of his house. For this, oval 
 and olive-faced, frank-eyed and smiling, was the 
 Prince Rennoske, last of the Ackagawa. 
 
 They were man and wife. 
 
 From the day of that final interview with the 
 Baron Matsuyama, the prince's brain had been in a 
 turmoil. Hemmed in on one side by all the bars of 
 ancient custom, driven on the other by Yukitaka 
 and his talk that the union would benefit both prince 
 and kingdom, he had wearily consented to the match, 
 silencing the old student's, "And we find Kiku San, 
 there is a simple way out, for policy and love have 
 never yet gone hand in hand." 
 
 There had been the usual weeks of preparation 
 on the bride's part. Moreover, there was some 
 respect due to her dead uncle, self-slain at the 
 prince's command. For the times were grim times. 
 Had the outcome of the rebellion been the other way, 
 Rennoske felt sure he would not have been given 
 even this honor. 
 
 The groom, or those who looked after his inter- 
 ests, had been busy in their own way. There were 
 messengers to be sent abroad to all those who were 
 rich or influential in the country, inviting them 
 to the wedding feast. There were the decorations, 
 the food, and the wine, and many other details to 
 be looked after in so important an event.
 
 344 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 At length the day arrived, and there was much 
 bustling about the stone court before the lawn and 
 the flower beds. Servant, Samurai, and Saimyo ran 
 in and out of the dozen buildings, making ready the 
 coming of the guests. 
 
 All afternoon these poured in through the stone 
 dragons of the great gate, borne thither in their 
 palanquins. They had been given quarters in the 
 many shojis of the courtiers, where they ate and 
 drank until the evening. 
 
 Rennoske remembered now that long ride in his 
 litter, accompanied by fifty knights, to the palace 
 of the Matsuyama in the woods. The princess was 
 waiting for him in the great room, with its black 
 lacquered floor and brazen gongs. He saw the 
 stacked armor and the five-armed goddess in the 
 green-lit alcove. 
 
 The white of the princess's robe seemed appropri- 
 ate in such a place. To him it represented real and 
 not mimic death. He remembered his words: 
 
 "I am come to take thee to the palace for the 
 honorable ceremony of marriage, O Princess Misono 
 San." 
 
 And her answer as she smiled, scarlet-lipped: 
 
 "And I am ready to be your bride, O Prince 
 Rennoske." 
 
 She rode back in the litter with him. He said 
 nothing, nor did she.
 
 CEREMONY OF MARRIAGE 345 
 
 There was the procession through the crowd in 
 the light of the lanterns, while they were pelted with 
 flowers. There were the nine cups of sipped sakkee, 
 she drinking first as his guest. There was the arrival 
 of the Shinto priest, with his high, baglike hat of 
 black velvet, and the handsome, richly clad boys 
 who held up his long silken train, embroidered in 
 gold and silver thread. 
 
 As for the ceremony itself, that seemed now pretty 
 much a jumble of mumbled words and incanta- 
 tions. It was hard for him to realize that he was 
 eternally bound to this woman whom he hated. 
 
 The ring of lantern-lit faces all about him seemed 
 somehow to bear a leering expression. Then, the 
 priests' mumblings over, the nine sipped cups of 
 sakkee again, he drinking first as her lord and master. 
 
 They were man and wife. 
 
 The guests began to depart one by one, the old, 
 gouty husbands by this time unable to see the sly 
 glances of their wives, while the young men thickly 
 whispered extravagant pleasantries that sounded 
 doubly loud in dainty little ears. 
 
 All this by the carved and gilded pillars that held 
 up the roof, where the coolies came in a seemingly 
 never-ending line bearing the palanquins. Silk 
 rustled, voices were loud, and Saianaras stuttered 
 as unsteady hands groped among the silken cushions. 
 
 By the velvet canopy there was many a, "Thou-
 
 346 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 sand years of happiness come to your supreme high- 
 nesses!" and often repeated, "May the union of the 
 Ackagawa and the Matsuyama be fruitful and a 
 blessing to the kingdom!" while bowing couple after 
 bowing couple passed before the royal pair. 
 
 Rennoske bore up under this as bravely as he 
 could. He had always taken things as they came, 
 with a patient shrug and a light heart for the mor- 
 row. Small blame to him, though, when his heart 
 was elsewhere, if he found this marriage a bitter 
 draught to swallow. 
 
 At last the shouts of the litter bearers died away 
 into the night, and they were alone with Yukitaka. 
 The old man clapped his hands, and out of the dark- 
 ness into the light, feet pattering over the stone, the 
 Koreans brought the litter again. 
 
 Rennoske saw the student's thin arms raised over 
 his head. He longed to halt the benediction that 
 he knew was coming from those lips. A blessing 
 on this union ? Nay, Yukitaka, speak it not it 
 is sacrilege! 
 
 "May the light of heaven shine upon you both," 
 came the old man's voice, slow and solemn. "May 
 the house of the Red River and the house of the 
 Mountain of Pines be ever at peace in the loving 
 embrace of their two most worthy children. 
 
 "May the words of an old man rise like white 
 mist to heaven, and the gods send it back again
 
 CEREMONY OF MARRIAGE 347 
 
 like pearl-dropping rain to cover your house and 
 make the flowers in the garden of your lives bloom 
 everlasting." 
 
 "I thank thee, O counselor," said Misono. 
 
 But Rennoske, with graven face, walked slowly 
 toward the litter. Entering it, he called out: 
 
 "The lanterns go out the men wait. It is time 
 to depart." 
 
 "I follow where calls your voice, O my husband," 
 she answered. 
 
 Yukitaka, smiling broadly, helped her into the 
 litter. 
 
 That ride in the night! Rennoske thought it a 
 horror. The red August moon showed its rim over 
 the distant mountains, silhouetting the fir trees 
 black-barred against it. There it was again, the 
 red and black. Were they not together, even in 
 nature ? 
 
 No, tomorrow the sun would shine; where would 
 the red and black be then? He looked out at the 
 other side. There, a lurid speck, shone the bonfire 
 that blazed before the palace of the Baron Matsu- 
 yama the funeral fire of the Princess Misono San, 
 to show she was dead to her house. Gods and 
 the trees of the forest before it black, black, black! 
 
 Rennoske closed his eyes to shut out the sight. A 
 scene came clearly to his brain. A dim cave, an old 
 man, a Samurai in armor that watched a squirming
 
 348 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 monkey on the ground. And that scarlet-clad figure 
 of a child that screamed. Was it not the woman 
 that now sat beside him?" 
 
 "We are here, your highness," he heard her say, 
 rousing him out of the dream of his childhood that 
 puzzled him. He opened his eyes. 
 
 The litter had been halted before a shoji at the 
 side of a pond, where the wide leaves of water lilies 
 caught the yellow glow, for light shone through the 
 paper walls and shimmered on the still water. 
 
 He got out of the palanquin and let her lead him 
 up the gravel path that was flanked with moon- 
 tinted hyacinths. The door opened with a clatter. 
 Rennoske, unmindful of the beauty of the scene, 
 followed his wife inside the shoji. The room was 
 small, for there were other paper walls in their 
 grooves. From behind them came muffled titter- 
 ings and vague, fluttering shadows. 
 
 "Deign to sit here, O my husband," said Misono 
 San archly, pointing to a lambskin rug spread out 
 upon the matting. "I would change my dress of 
 ceremony for one more fitting to ease and comfort." 
 
 Bowing low, she turned to a shoji wall, slid it 
 back, and disappeared behind it. The titterings 
 came again. 
 
 Rennoske flopped down like an automaton on the 
 lambskin rug. His wedding night the irony of 
 it! He was not given much to midnight soliloquy
 
 CEREMONY OF MARRIAGE 349 
 
 or rumination, but the present situation struck him 
 as being grotesque, and he could not but think 
 upon it. Here he was, ruler of the land, supposedly 
 infallible, yet forced against his will to marry a 
 woman he hated. 
 
 Was it not laughable that, after all the fighting 
 and the bloodshed, he should capitulate this way 
 to the Matsuyama? It seemed to him as though 
 the black were triumphant, even though the baron 
 and the Black Boar both lay moldering in their 
 graves. 
 
 Sitting in silence, he tried his hardest to make the 
 best of it. A marriage for policy's sake would have 
 been nothing to trouble him if he had not loved some 
 one else. As it was, he did, and knew that love was 
 returned. 
 
 In war he had been victorious. In peace and the 
 ways of peace it looked as if the Matsuyama were 
 triumphant. 
 
 "You have seemed sad, my prince." It was 
 Misono's voice beside him. She wore a crimson 
 kimono, one of his gifts. "I should prove an ill 
 wife indeed if I sought not to cheer you. It is for 
 this I bid my maidens wait on me here. Shall they 
 dance for you, my prince?" 
 
 "Nay, princess," he answered wearily. "It is not 
 for geisha dancing to soothe my troubled spirit." 
 
 "Geisha dancing!" she replied, raising her pen-
 
 3so THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 ciled eyebrows. "Nay, you cast a slur upon me. It 
 is not for the Princess Misono of the Matsuyama 
 and the Ackagawa to be attended by geisha! 
 Maidens all are my waiting-women, chosen for their 
 beauty and daintiness. Shall not your eyes feast 
 upon them in the dance?" 
 
 "As thou wilt," he answered, stifling a yawn. 
 
 The princess clapped her hands. 
 
 "O Hana! O Haru!" she called. "We shall 
 have the Genroku Odori for his supreme highness 
 Isoge!" 
 
 Behind the paper walls was now a bustling. Soon 
 the rattling of them announced that they were 
 being slid from their grooves. Rennoske glanced 
 carelessly up. 
 
 Three girls in brilliant kimonos stood in the center 
 of the room, under a string of lanterns. Two were 
 in blue and one in yellow, while two in purple sat 
 in the shadow of the alcove with samisens. He saw 
 the bows of their sashes behind the princess had 
 spoken the truth, they were not geisha. Hei 
 what of it? 
 
 Soon the strumming of the instruments rang out 
 mournfully. He saw the slow, graceful movements 
 of the six arms. Were the postures pleasing? He 
 knew not. Were the smiles bright? He cared not. 
 In a sort of half-awakened state, like a man hear- 
 ing a sound blown by an occasional wind across a
 
 CEREMONY OF MARRIAGE 351 
 
 silent lake, he listened to the song as one of the girls 
 droned it forth. 
 
 Ever before me, 
 
 His haunting eyes I see. Wo 
 
 Shall come upon me, 
 
 If I wander far or near. 
 
 Gods! Was this to cheer him, this whine of haunt- 
 ing eyes that haunted him day and night, since the 
 clash of arms had ceased ? 
 
 Stark lies he in death, 
 
 My lover's sword hath slain him. 
 
 In winter's cold snows; 
 
 In summer's glow; in springtime, 
 
 His eyes shall haunt me! 
 
 The song-story went on in the same dreary mono- 
 tone, to tell of the beauteous one who sought happi- 
 ness wandering with her swash-bucklering lover, yet 
 never happy, pursued by the eyes of the man he 
 had killed in a quarrel over her. 
 
 And now in this cave, 
 In silent meditation, 
 I seek to retrieve, 
 My life in sorrow shaken! 
 
 A shrill scream rang out! 
 
 Rennoske had a momentary flash of a purple 
 shimmer in the lantern light. Then a deeper purple 
 engulfed him and a body fell over his. 
 
 Arms held tightly about his neck. There was a 
 thud on his shoulder, a screaming and pattering
 
 352 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 of hurried feet. The thing about his neck groaned 
 and then lay limp. 
 
 Quickly snatching away the clinging arms, he 
 sprang to his feet and turned from the fleeing 
 damsels. The Princess Misono San stood before 
 him. Her eyebrows were raised, eyes gleaming, 
 nostrils quivering. The expression of her face was 
 diabolical. He saw why her arms were upraised 
 behind her head. There, the hilt in her dainty 
 hands, hung the heavy blade of a sword! 
 
 It was but the work of a second to grip her firmly 
 by the wrists and bend her arms behind her. His 
 face was close to hers. 
 
 "It is with a dance of death thou wouldst enter- 
 tain me, O princess," he whispered. "Strange must 
 be the hatred that kills upon the bridal night." 
 
 "Let me go! Let me go!" she screamed. "Thy 
 flesh creeps. Thou hast a demon. Let me go, I 
 say!" 
 
 Still he held her fast, while her screams rang out 
 in the night. Somewhere in the back of his brain 
 that scream called up an answering echo. 
 
 The scene was the dark cave again, an old man 
 watched, an armor-clad soldier, a monkey, and the 
 talk of death. Misono San's was the scream of 
 hatred and disappointment as now. 
 
 "Who hath told thee to do this, or is it thine 
 own invention?" he asked.
 
 CEREMONY OF MARRIAGE 353 
 
 Her breath coming in choking, hysterical gasps, 
 she answered: 
 
 "You will let me go, if I tell?" 
 
 "Aye." 
 
 "Then I swore to mine uncle the baron on the 
 day he died, to slay you. I wiped the sword of our 
 house clean of his blood and vowed upon it that 
 it should next be stained by yours. But you have 
 a demon who guards you. Thrice have they slain 
 you, only to find you living again. Let me go! 
 Let me go! Let me go!" 
 
 But if anyone possessed a demon it was the 
 Princess Misono San, for now she had lost all control 
 of herself. She lashed and twisted like a slim palm 
 in a typhoon, while her screams rent the air. 
 
 Rennoske released his hold. With a terrible swift- 
 ness she ran to the door, swung at it with her 
 sword, cleaving a great V in the paper, through 
 which she leaped head first. 
 
 Again she screamed outside, then once again; 
 but the second was fainter than the first. A third 
 and a fourth time the piercing cry rang out yet 
 the last was far away. 
 
 Rennoske listened he heard it once more. Was 
 that a splash in the water that followed it? 
 
 There had been another attempt upon his life, 
 even while he was the Daimyo. Would the assassins 
 never rest? Yet through all the strife and turmoil
 
 354 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 of it a voice of hope sounded like the throbbing of 
 a single string. 
 
 Misono San was gone. Dead or deserting him, 
 Misono San was gone forever out of his life. The 
 last bond between him and the Matsuyama had 
 snapped! 
 
 An attempt had been made upon his life Ren- 
 noske knew; but who was it that had saved him? 
 The dancers had fled, yet he felt sure one of them 
 had done the helping deed, one of the two in the 
 alcove, for he distinctly saw the purple kimono come 
 toward him. A low moan at his feet caused him to 
 look down. 
 
 In the dim light, for four of the six lanterns had 
 been blown out by the inrushing wind from the 
 gash in the door, he saw a huddled purple figure on 
 the floor. 
 
 How came she to save him? he thought, as he 
 stooped down to her, for she lay upon her face. 
 From the alcove she had probably seen the upraised 
 arm of the princess, and out of pity, sudden affec- 
 tion, patriotism who could fathom a woman's 
 sudden impulse? 
 
 He touched her shoulder and gently turned her 
 over. Light light he must have light! Gods! 
 What was this warm and wet upon his hand 
 blood? Could she live? She must! Where was 
 the light?
 
 CEREMONY OF MARRIAGE 355 
 
 Reaching high his hand, he snatched one of the 
 lanterns from its string. With trembling fingers he 
 held it close to the girl's face. The yellow glow 
 behind the paper flickered through the bamboo-fiber 
 ribs, flickered through the yellow paper on the 
 pale, upturned face of Kiku San.
 
 Chapter XXIX 
 A Tear Upon a Painted Saucer 
 
 WHEN would this end? Such a to-do 
 about a dozen pigs! Yet Rennoske 
 listened patiently to the bare-legged 
 man before him, who rambled on in a cracked voice: 
 
 "Even my blind mother could tell, supreme 
 highness, the spotted one was mine. The old sow 
 hath borne me seven litters, each time twelve pigs. 
 Now come twelve again, and in three days but eleven. 
 Search I high and low, your supreme highness, even 
 in the godown that hath not been opened since 
 chrysanthemum time. 
 
 "Then on the Doll's Festival pass I the sty of 
 Tamakichi. Squealing in a corner do I see my 
 spotted pig, and Tamakichi's sow hath thirteen! 
 Surely no sow hath thirteen pigs. It is but rare for 
 one to have twelve. Hath your supreme highness 
 ever heard of a sow with thirteen pigs? It is not 
 good." 
 
 "Where is thy sow?" asked Rennoske. 
 
 "Outside the great stone gate, your supreme
 
 A TEAR UPON A SAUCER 357 
 
 highness," the man answered deferentially. "They 
 would not let her in, though this morning scrubbed 
 I her clean with hot water." 
 
 "And Tamakichi's sow?" 
 
 "Outside also, with her twelve and my spotted 
 one." 
 
 Rennoske smiled. 
 
 "Place thy sow and the sow of Tamakichi's side 
 by side," he said with assumed gravity. "One of 
 my men will then take this wondrous spotted pig 
 and twist its tail till it squeal. The sows will grunt 
 and call it. Hei! My man looses the wondrous 
 spotted pig and it will fly straight to its real mother. 
 Thus do I decree. See that it is done, Raku." 
 
 The man stood dazed in open-eyed awe. Then 
 bowing to the floor he mumbled: 
 
 "Your supreme highness has the wisdom of all 
 the gods rolled into one. May you reign a thousand 
 years!" 
 
 Raku, the knight, led him out, still dazed and 
 marveling. 
 
 "And now let us close the business of the day," 
 said Rennoske, rising quickly. 
 
 "Might I crave a moment, your supreme high- 
 ness," came Yukitaka's voice. "There are the six 
 who await to thank you for their deliverance." 
 
 "What six?" Rennoske snapped, evidently 
 annoyed.
 
 358 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Iwashi and the crew of the Maya Maru." 
 
 "Admit them then," answered the prince, sitting 
 again petulantly. 
 
 The sailors were brought in. Loud were their 
 thanks for their release. They blessed the bamboo 
 poles that had whacked their heads, for were it not 
 for them, they might never have seen the heaven- 
 sent ruler who freed them from slavery in an 
 accursed land. 
 
 Rennoske thanked them each and bade them not 
 praise him, but the dead man who had been their 
 captain. He gave orders that each should be given 
 money and a letter of high merit, which he would 
 sign, and so dismissed them with his praises high on 
 their lips. 
 
 Once again Yukitaka balked Rennoske's plans for 
 closing the audience. There was a dispute over a 
 milldam that took an hour, another controversy 
 over a stolen ox. He settled them as quickly as 
 he could, yet the sun was sinking over the red-tiled 
 roof, making long the shadows of the hollyhocks, 
 when all the business was through. 
 
 "At last," he cried, stretching himself, alone 
 with Yukitaka. "Now for the best hour of the 
 day. Does my litter wait by the fountain, Owl 
 Eyes?" he asked, tapping the old student familiarly 
 on the shoulder. "Indeed, a long stay have they 
 had."
 
 A TEAR UPON A SAUCER 359 
 
 "A longer while must they tarry ere they return," 
 answered the old man slyly. 
 
 "Nay, not so long," guiltily replied the prince. 
 "But an hour or so." 
 
 "H-m," Yukitaka grunted. "Time flies fast at 
 the shoji by the Pond of the Lilies. Too fast, me- 
 thinks, for the good of the state." 
 
 "What meanest thou?" Rennoske snapped, 
 bristling. 
 
 Yukitaka paused, then let fly the shaft. 
 
 "I mean the Prince Rennoske of the Ackagawa 
 deigns to stoop too often. To comfort the sick is 
 well, yet there are nurses and old women in plenty 
 to stay hours by the side of a wounded handmaiden. 
 It is not the business of the Daimyo" 
 
 "Durst thou so far presume?" thundered Ren- 
 noske. "Before thou wert known to high places, a 
 dweller among musty books, she was beside me in 
 my trouble. Her tender hand made smooth the 
 places that were rough. Much did I suffer for her 
 sake, much has she borne for mine. Thou goest 
 too far, Yukitaka!" 
 
 The old student ran his long-nailed finger over 
 the top of his fan, then he spoke with a twinkle in 
 his eye. 
 
 "Yet but a handmaiden she is, and you may 
 you reign a thousand years you are the Daimyo!" 
 
 Rennoske stood staring at him, lip between
 
 360 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 thumb and forefinger, uncertain as to how he should 
 take the speech. Then he laughed and answered 
 boyishly, "The wise man is sometimes the fool, 
 Yukitaka." Then going to the carved pillars, he 
 cried out, " Hei! Speed there bring the litter, 
 Isoge!" 
 
 Light-hearted, he leaped in, leaving Yukitaka to 
 stand in the shadow of the red-tiled roof, unnoticed. 
 
 Not long did Rennoske stay in the shoji by the 
 Pond of the Lilies. Neither did Yukitaka stay long 
 unnoticed in the shadow of the red-tiled roof. For 
 the wily old counselor managed to find a dispute 
 among the old and the new Samurai and sent 
 knight post-haste to the prince to settle it. Ren- 
 noske came and smoothed over an exaggerated 
 difficulty. He went back to the palace at nightfall, 
 to stand himself unnoticed under the red-tiled roof. 
 
 As for Yukitaka, he turned the tables by going 
 quickly to the shoji by the Pond of the Lilies. There 
 he found a pale-faced girl lying upon a padded bed- 
 ding, attended by an old servant of the court. 
 
 Long and earnestly the student of the mountains 
 talked, while the girl listened. She sobbed a little, 
 too; but the old man's voice was so soft and low, 
 his reasoning so profound, that she promised to do as 
 he asked, though, as she said, it would "tear out 
 her soul." He left with soothing words, a com- 
 placent, satisfied Yukitaka. She remained in the
 
 A TEAR UPON A SAUCER 361 
 
 shoji by the Pond of the Lilies, a gently weeping 
 Kiku San. 
 
 On the following afternoon Rennoske closed the 
 audience early. The restraining voice of old Yuki- 
 taka was no longer a hindrance, for the old scholar 
 had gone early that morning, leaving word that he 
 had departed on "grave business of state." Prince 
 Rennoske worried not a particle. If it was "busi- 
 ness of state" Yukitaka was perfectly capable of 
 handling it. If it were "grave," then he was 
 doubly so, for such a word was not then present in 
 the young man's vocabulary. 
 
 At about two o'clock he wandered out into the 
 garden, and from the many brilliant flower beds 
 gathered a bouquet. He took some time to arrange 
 it by the cool, splashing fountain, for the art of 
 bouquet making was an important one. By this 
 means were conveyed many tender messages and 
 many a love note between swain and maiden. 
 
 At last, having put it together with sufficient 
 "philosophy," he cried out to his litter bearers, who 
 waited his word. They bore him away, spurred on 
 by an impulsive Isoge! that sent their bare feet 
 pattering over grass, stone, and gravel. It was not 
 hard to guess the destination of Prince Rennoske of 
 the house of the Red River. 
 
 He found Kiku sitting up, her back to a pillar, 
 evidently stronger, yet paler than usual. On her
 
 362 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 lap was a porcelain saucer, a palette and paints 
 beside her on the matting, while a slender brush was 
 balanced between her thumb and forefinger. 
 
 "See, your supreme highness," she called as he 
 came up the path, "my fingers have been busy 
 again, for the pain has gone from my arm." 
 
 She held up the saucer to him, showing the daubs 
 of red and green upon the white. 
 
 "Is it for me?" he asked, bending over her. 
 
 "Nay," she answered. "The clumsy work of a 
 stupid girl is not a fitting gift for him who is the 
 Daimyo." 
 
 She bowed her head as far as her bandaged shoul- 
 der would let her. 
 
 " Hei, Gentlest Flower," he cried. "To the sea 
 with talk of Daimyo, Saimyo, and Samurai! I was 
 Little Warrior to thee once, let me be Little Warrior 
 still. Are my flowers well chosen ? " he asked, hand- 
 ing her the bouquet. 
 
 "There is thought, remembrance, friendship, and 
 gratitude," she answered, holding the flowers at 
 arm's length. "And this sweet blossom. Nay, 
 your supreme highness I am not worthy of that." 
 
 "And why not, Gentlest Flower?" he said, sitting 
 beside her. "It is not a new thought, this one of 
 love. Did I not tell it thee in the rice fields of thy 
 father? Has it not been ever in my heart since 
 there I saw thee last, the rice plants in thy hands,
 
 A TEAR UPON A SAUCER 363 
 
 the gentle sunlight on thy hair? Nay, Kiku San, 
 the thought is far from new." 
 
 "Yet were you but my foster-brother then," she 
 replied with downcast eyes. "The Daimyo you 
 were 'not." 
 
 "Aye, and I was, Kiku San," he answered, 
 "though thou and I knew it not. The love that 
 came to the farmer's son is in the same heart as 
 in the heart of the man that is now the Daimyo. 
 The Daimyo loves as the farmer's son loved. In 
 such things all men are equal, for the little that is 
 godlike in us is shared equally by all men, prince 
 or peasant." 
 
 Kiku San answered nothing. A struggle was 
 going on within her, for her bosom heaved, her eyes 
 were tear-sparkled. 
 
 "Thou dost love me, Kiku San," Rennoske went 
 on. "Have I not seen the signs? Does not the 
 cherry blossom and the nightingale's song tell us 
 that spring is here? Have I not read the word in 
 thine eyes, have I not seen it trembling on thy 
 lips? Thou dost love me, Kiku San." 
 
 "Aye," she wailed, rocking gently to and fro, 
 "more than tongue can tell, more than is given to 
 the gods themselves. There can be no harm in 
 telling that." 
 
 "Be my princess then," he whispered, leaning 
 close to her. "Be my wife."
 
 364 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 "Your princess! Your wife!" she sobbed. 
 "Nay, nay, nay! Are you blinded, Prince Ren- 
 noske, that you cannot see the pitfall that lies be- 
 fore you ? Your princess your wife ? Nay, nay, 
 it cannot be!" 
 
 "And why not, Gentlest Flower?" he answered. 
 "What is there to prevent?" 
 
 "A towering mountain, an endless sea, a whirling, 
 spanless torrent," she answered, her words coming 
 fast. "What am I but a peasant girl? Do the 
 people wish for such to rule over them? Will the 
 haughty Samurai bow low to me ? To prevent 
 there is naught to sanction but our love, and that 
 prevails not among the high-born, it seems. Do 
 you see now?" 
 
 "It shall prevail," he answered imperiously. 
 "Thou speakest in another's words. Thrice hast 
 thou been taken from me it shall not be so again. 
 I command it!" 
 
 The light of hope illumined her face as he spoke. 
 He commanded her he was the Daimyo she 
 must obey. But the hope was soon drowned by 
 another thought. 
 
 "It is too late, your supreme highness," she 
 moaned. 
 . "Too late! What meanest thou?" 
 
 Her words came with a terrible effort. 
 
 " Yukitaka he is even now in the Land of the
 
 A TEAR UPON A SAUCER 365 
 
 Purple Lotus, where he sues the Daimyo there for 
 the hand of his daughter in marriage to thee. I 
 promised him I would not tell, but even in that 
 have I bungled!" 
 
 "Bungled?" he cried, springing to his feet. 
 "Gods of my ancestors, it is he who hath bungled! 
 Wives, wives, wives! Am I to have them thrust 
 down my throat like fish into a cormorant! Am I, 
 the Daimyo, to be made the shuttlecock of fate by 
 a doddering old fool? 
 
 "First it is the Princess Misono San she tries 
 to slay me. Then when I find again the love of my 
 life, she is snatched away from me by this dreamer 
 of fine ways and soft manners. But it shall not be 
 by Inari I swear it!" 
 
 Rennoske of the house of the Red River ran 
 madly down the gravel path, flanked by the hya- 
 cinths, leaving Kiku San to drop a tear into the 
 saucer she had painted in the shoji by the Pond of 
 the Lilies.
 
 Chapter XXX 
 
 What Said the "Tapper of 
 Laquer Trees 
 
 IT was even as Kiku San had said. 
 Yukitaka had been gone a week now to the 
 Purple Lotus country to sue the Daimyo Kotara 
 for the hand of his daughter in marriage. Rennoske 
 wasted no time in sending his swiftest runners in 
 pursuit of the old student, with orders to bring him 
 back at any cost. 
 
 The situation was more serious than it appeared 
 to be at first glance. Supposing Yukitaka reached 
 the Daimyo of Katsu and Nokodate and obtained his 
 consent? Could Rennoske turn and say he did not 
 want his daughter? 
 
 The Daimyo of the Purple Lotus had helped him 
 regain his throne. Feudal lords of old Japan brooked 
 no such affronts. War would inevitably follow, and 
 Rennoske, with untried men at his back and no 
 spirit in the fight, felt as though he would fare badly. 
 
 He sat at his usual place on the tiger-skin, under
 
 TAPPER OF LAQUER TREES 367 
 
 the canopy of brocaded velvet, trying to evolve 
 some way out of the difficulty. A million curses 
 on the head of old Yukitaka for his well-meaning 
 yet tangling interference! Try as he might, there 
 was no way clear to him he was hopelessly en- 
 meshed in the student's hope-destroying plans for 
 his welfare. 
 
 He rose and paced the floor, lip between thumb 
 and forefinger. Laughter came from the garden, 
 where the silk-clad courtiers listened to a troupe of 
 traveling story-tellers. 
 
 There was no laughter for Rennoske that day, nor 
 had there been in this week of soul-rending suspense 
 that had passed since his last talk with Kiku. He 
 had purposely avoided the girl, for he feared that 
 the sight of her would only make keener the mind 
 torture he was undergoing. 
 
 No, there seemed no way out of it, unless old 
 Yukitaka was overtaken. His life's happiness de- 
 pended then on the fleetness of his messengers. 
 Gods! how he longed to climb to the highest moun- 
 tain peak and with a voice of thunder cry down to 
 them: "Isoge! Isoge!" 
 
 The laughter outside had died down and a deep 
 murmur of the men's voices came instead. 
 
 "We had best tell his supreme highness," he 
 heard one say. "This is indeed weighty news." 
 
 He longed to dispense with these grave bows as
 
 368 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 the two nobles entered to find him standing by the 
 lavender alcove. 
 
 "There comes a merchant with news of deep 
 note," said the first. "We thought we might dare 
 to interrupt your serene meditations and tell your 
 supreme highness." 
 
 "Admit the man, then," snapped Rennoske 
 impatiently. 
 
 More profound bows as the begoggled, mud- 
 spattered man came in. Gods! would he not speak 
 and have done with this bobbing? 
 
 "What wouldst thou say to the prince?" said 
 Rennoske, controlling himself. "Grave news should 
 not pause upon the brink but over with the fall. 
 Rise and speak, good sir." 
 
 "I am Ginnaku, a merchant of silver," the man 
 faltered. " I took the road from Boruku to Yama Ino 
 because I feared to trust my apprentice, who hath 
 seemed rather wild of late. But gods of my ances- 
 tors, methought I would ne'er reach my destination, 
 for all the way from Takenaka to the Obigawa's 
 banks the road swarmed with angry peasants! 
 
 "They seemed distraught and asked me strange 
 questions about your supreme highness's marriage. 
 There is naught so odd in that, except that they said 
 they came here to the palace to right some wrong 
 they had suffered at your hands. 
 
 "All the night have I stumbled along the river-
 
 TAPPER OF LAQUER TREES 369 
 
 bank to outdistance them, but they were ever along 
 the way, sleeping. I knew not if your supreme 
 highness knew of their presence, and so thought to 
 tell you. I hope I have not angered you by being 
 the bearer of stale news." 
 
 "Indeed, no," answered Rennoske, interested yet 
 disappointed. "How many were they, O Ginnaku, 
 thinkest thou?" 
 
 "There might be any number from two to three 
 hundred, highness. It was hard to tell in the 
 darkness, and I do not see so well." 
 
 "It is enough, O Ginnaku," Rennoske replied. 
 Then turning to the other two: "See that this man is 
 rested, fed, and sent upon his way with a safe guard. 
 Then leave me to myself." 
 
 Here was a new thorn in his side! Another up- 
 rising, and why? To right a wrong at his hands? 
 In what way had he wronged them? Could they 
 mean Misono San? Was she alive and stirring 
 them against him ? There was talk of his marriage 
 that must be it. Was the baron's prophecy of 
 continued strife true, then? 
 
 There was a council in the room of the red velvet 
 canopy that afternoon. The Samurai were for arm- 
 ing and going out to crush what was evidently a 
 rebellion. They, some bearing the scars of peasant 
 weapons, were in favor of nipping such a thing in 
 the bud.
 
 370 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 But Rennoske, who had been peasant-raised to his 
 throne and knew the men with whom he had to deal, 
 ventured a different opinion. 
 
 "I know no cause for discontent," he said to the 
 ring of nobles about him. "These men come to 
 have me right a wrong, whatever that wrong may be. 
 Shall we again drench our fair land in blood by 
 meeting them with the sharp edge of our sword? 
 Nay, Saimyoy let us first argue the matter." 
 
 "Argue with peasants?" cried one, more bitter 
 than the rest. "It is hardly meet, O prince. Speech 
 and the ways of speech become them not." 
 
 "Yet I am from them and should know," answered 
 Rennoske. 
 
 "Shall we wait here till they come upon us, then?" 
 asked one who learned to honor and respect the word 
 of his prince. 
 
 "Nay," Rennoske answered. "I shall go out to 
 meet them, for they are my children." 
 
 A sullen roar of protest was his answer. He would 
 have insisted, but there was some policy in listening. 
 
 "Then let any number of you up to ten go out and 
 meet them. Tell them to choose from their number 
 one who is best able to plead their cause. Tell them 
 that the Prince Rennoske meets him alone and un- 
 armed where he last spoke to them a peasant. If 
 the men are of my people, they will understand. 
 This will I do ? this do I say, your Daimyo"
 
 TAPPER OF LAQUER TREES 371 
 
 Five of the Samurai agreed to go, three of them 
 being formerly of the victorious peasant army. It 
 was late afternoon when they left. Rennoske spent 
 room-pacing hours in their absence filled with many 
 vague misgivings as to the cause of this uprising. 
 
 Why, too, did not his messengers return? Had 
 Yukitaka been successful after all? There was labor 
 and thankless toil in being the son of a farmer, 
 lurking death and ever-present danger in the life of 
 a generalissimo of rebellious peasants, yet it was far 
 from peace and serenity to be a Daimyo, even though 
 surrounded by clanking knights and silken hangings. 
 It was not all ease to sit upon a tiger-skin rug before 
 a crimson velvet canopy brocaded with threads of 
 silver and gold. 
 
 Midnight saw the return of the five knights. One 
 of them bore the message: 
 
 "Where the helmet of the man they called 'Little 
 Warrior' fell asunder and the Prince Rennoske knew 
 himself. In the first full light of the sun, there will 
 a man he knows, alone and unarmed, meet the 
 Daimyo." 
 
 Rennoske slept but little that night. Somehow 
 he felt that the sun of this coming day would shine 
 upon his fate. The thought of what that fate might 
 be racked his brain more than the hated malady of 
 the past had ever done. 
 
 With the first stroke of dawn he rose and bathed
 
 372 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 in the garden, donned clean linen and the kimono 
 of crimson with the crimson sash. Alone and 
 unarmed he trod the gravel path past the palace, 
 while the dim light shone upon the opening flowers 
 and full-blooming morning glories. 
 
 He passed the grove of camphor trees, whose leaves 
 were just taking on the first light of the sunrise. 
 Below, the slope rolled away; where the ground 
 looked like motionless waves of the sea, the winding 
 river gleamed among the waving green grass. The 
 pennons of the anchored barge by the stone quay 
 fluttered in a faint breeze. 
 
 As Rennoske took the path down the hill, he saw 
 another figure toiling up. It was too far to dis- 
 tinguish, yet the man was plainly old, for his back 
 bent low as he picked his steps. 
 
 The man turned to his left from the path and stood 
 waiting. Rennoske quickened his pace and came 
 on down. Within thirty feet of where the man 
 stood, the prince knew that this was indeed where 
 his helmet had fallen, cleft by the Black Boar's 
 sword. 
 
 The man, catching sight of Rennoske, fell face 
 downward upon the ground and lay thus until the 
 prince's voice bade him rise. He rose slowly and 
 painfully. In the first full light of the sun Rennoske 
 looked upon the face of the Tapper of Laquer Trees ! 
 
 "Thou!" Rennoske cried. "What grievance hast
 
 TAPPER OF LAQUER TREES 373 
 
 thou against me, reverend sir, that thou shouldst 
 bring the farmer from his fields and the woodman 
 from his ax?" 
 
 "No grievance at all, your supreme highness," 
 the man answered. "I am but the mouthpiece of 
 many, and it is but a boon we crave." 
 
 "Anything that I can grant I will," Rennoske 
 replied. " But for the reason that thou it is who art 
 the mouthpiece, for well and faithful hast thou served 
 me, and I have taken from thee much. How knewest 
 thou this spot?" 
 
 The man answered, smiling: 
 
 "Does not every true heart that fought with you 
 know it? Are there not many who are happy to 
 show it to one who craved long to see?" 
 
 Rennoske was deeply touched at the man's 
 devotion. It was some moments before he could 
 speak again. 
 
 "And what is the boon my children crave?" 
 
 "You must first forgive us for daring to meddle in 
 the business of your supreme highness," the man 
 began boldly. "But it hath come to us through an 
 accident that you were to be joined in marriage to 
 the daughter of the Daimyo Kotara. He who plans 
 thus, thinks in his mind, no doubt, that yonder 
 Daimyo is old and will soon die, and therefore you 
 will be the inheritor of his kingdom, he having as yet 
 no son. Thus will you be a great shogun of this
 
 374 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 and his two kingdoms. The plan is wise and well 
 laid, yet are there drawbacks. 
 
 "Perhaps you die which the gods forbid. Per- 
 haps the Daimyo of the Purple Lotus is crafty and, 
 having you in his power through his daughter, 
 will encroach upon our lands. Through either way, 
 would it be he and not you who would be the mighty 
 shogun ? " 
 
 "There is much reason in what you say," Ren- 
 noske answered, seeing words of hope in the man's 
 message. 
 
 "Birth hath given you a throne," the Tapper of 
 Laquer Trees went on, his voice vibrating with 
 feeling, "yet who was it that placed you there? 
 Not the silk-clad Saimyo or the clanking Samurai. 
 We, with our sweat and blood, have done it. 
 
 "We thought you but one of us whom Heaven 
 hath inspired it was our desire that you rule us. 
 It transpires that one of us you are not; but the 
 heaven-born Daimyo, whom the gods have ever 
 protected. 
 
 "Glad we are that this is so. Glad we are for 
 every blessed moment you have spent with us. 
 Where is the man among us who does not boldly 
 show the wounds he got while in your service ? It is 
 but just due to him who took the yoke from our 
 necks." 
 
 Rennoske held up his hand.
 
 TAPPER OF LAQUER TREES 375 
 
 "It is enough, reverend sir. Ask thy boon and 
 I will grant it, nor haggle over it, for thou hast served 
 me more than any man but one." 
 
 "It is our wish, then," the man went on, "that you 
 rule us many years. We crave, too, that you marry 
 not the daughter of the Purple Lotus house, but 
 choose a princess from among the people as a token 
 of good faith." 
 
 "A princess from among the people!" Rennoske 
 fairly screamed the words with joy. "Of all things, 
 thou shouldst ask this, hei!" 
 
 He made a flying leap at the Tapper of Laquer 
 Trees, caught him by his broad shoulders, and shook 
 him out of pure excess of glee. 
 
 The man cowered and whimpered: 
 
 "I take back the words. Slay me for saying them. 
 I have offended. Give me but time to bid my men 
 tell the counselor to go upon his way, for you are 
 displeased." 
 
 "What counselor?" 
 
 "The man, Yukitaka." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "We hold him prisoner, for his litter bearers 
 babbled the news and said it was of his own doing 
 that he went to fetch you a bride!" 
 
 Daimyos are supposed to be dignified, sedate per- 
 sonages, seated under brocaded canopies or walking 
 in beautiful gardens, surrounded by clanking knights,
 
 376 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 silken courtiers, and fair ladies. The Tapper of 
 Laquer Trees had heard this many a time. 
 
 What was his astonishment on seeing the Daimyo 
 before him, and a Daimyo he knew he was, pick up 
 the skirts of his crimson kimono, kick up his legs, 
 slap his thighs, kick again, laughing and chuckling, 
 bobbing up and down like a silly boy at sight of his 
 first kite. 
 
 "Hei!" this Daimyo shouted between roars and 
 chuckles, "he is a prisoner held up by peasants, 
 this dreamer of fine ways and manners! Have him 
 ducked in the river, reverend sir, make his face black 
 with ink, tie a fish to his pigtail, and chase him into 
 the sea! Stopped by my peasants hei hei! 
 The great Yukitaka the Wise Owl hei! Stop 
 my mouth, reverend sir, or I shall die of laughing!" 
 
 The Tapper of Laquer Trees turned down the hill. 
 All three of these ridiculous orders might have been 
 carried out on the old student of the mountains if 
 Rennoske had not stopped his merriment. 
 
 "Nay, reverend sir, I did but jest. Have the 
 counselor return to me and I will deal with him 
 the old, stalking heron, the squawking cormorant ! " 
 He changed the tone of his levity to a command: 
 "Tell my children that the Prince Rennoske, of the 
 house of the Red River, their Daimyo, marries a 
 sister to them with the waning of the moon." 
 
 "Then we must choose "
 
 TAPPER OF LAQUER TREES 377 
 
 "Nay, I have already chosen. She is the fairest 
 chrysanthemum in the garden, the only daughter of 
 the Farmer of the Three Wells," Rennoske answered, 
 happiness beaming on his face. 
 
 Rennoske skirted the trees and almost at a run 
 came upon the shoji by the Pond of the Lilies. The 
 door slid back gently at his tap and the old nurse's 
 face appeared in the opening. 
 
 "She rests, your supreme highness," the woman 
 said softly. "It is a good, healthful sleep, and she 
 must needs come out of it rested in both mind and 
 body. She talked some in her sleep something 
 she hath learned by heart. She is worn and weary, 
 poor chick!" 
 
 "Yet I would see her," Rennoske insisted. "I 
 will not wake her, only sit and watch. I have that 
 to tell her that will make her strong and well again 
 when her wound heals." 
 
 The woman slid back the door and left him. He 
 looked to the right of it and there, in the yellow light 
 of the sun that shone opalescent through the paper, 
 lay Kiku San. 
 
 Her pretty little head was pillowed on the sleeve 
 of the purple kimono. Her raven hair shone 
 silky. The woman was right, it was the deep 
 sleep of returning health. Slowly he bent over 
 her and whispered close to her eyelids: "Gentlest 
 Flower!"
 
 378 THE TURN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Her lips moved and formed words, though she still 
 slept. He bent closer and listened. 
 
 "When the sun shines golden on the rice fields, 
 when the moon of autumn turns the spray of the 
 mountain torrent into a thousand tiny rubies when 
 the heron flies across the sea and the air is sweet with 
 the salt and the seaweed when the soft spring 
 rain scatters the petals of the cherry blossoms 
 when the chrysanthemums nod, red, yellow, and 
 purple in the November breeze then will I think 
 of thee, O Kiku San." 
 
 He knew they were his own words, spoken the day 
 he had seen her before he left his foster-father's 
 house. 
 
 The door slid back and a shadow darkened the 
 matting. Rennoske looked up. It was Yukitaka. 
 
 "It seems I have displeased you," whined the old 
 student, the expression on his face like a guilty puppy. 
 "I am here to offer my much-offending head." 
 
 "Hush!" the Prince Rennoske whispered, holding 
 up his hand to silence him. "Who talks of tumbling 
 heads? Wilt wake the princess?" 
 
 "The princess? Why, what means " 
 
 "Silence thou bungler ever! Dost thou not 
 see Kiku San sleeps?"

 
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