Ancient Tales and Folk-Lore of Japan Part 8

'Stay, stay, my dear brother! I do not want all this sermon on spinsterhood,' cried O Cho. 'I have no intention of remaining single, I can tell you; and as for s.h.i.+nsaku I would rather marry him than any one else--so do not worry yourself further on that account. Settle the day of the happy event.'

Needless to say, young Gisuke was delighted, and so was s.h.i.+nsaku; and they settled that the marriage should be three days thence.

Soon, when all the fis.h.i.+ng-boats had returned to the village, the news spread; and it would be difficult to describe the state of the younger men's feelings. Hitherto every one had hoped to win the pretty O Cho San; all had lived in that happy hope, and rejoiced in the uncertain state of love, which causes such happiness in its early stages. s.h.i.+nsaku had hitherto been a general favourite. Now the whole of their hopes were dashed to the ground. O Cho was not for any of them. As for s.h.i.+nsaku, how they suddenly hated him! What was to be done? they asked one another, little thinking of the comical side, or that in any case O Cho could marry only one of them.

No attention was paid to the fish they had caught; their boats were scarcely pulled high enough on the beach for safety; their minds were wholly given to the question how each and every one of them could marry O Cho San. First of all, it was decided to tell s.h.i.+nsaku that they would prevent his marriage if possible. There were several fights on the quiet beach, which had never before been disturbed by a display of ill-feeling. At last Gisuke, O Cho's brother, consulted with his sister and s.h.i.+nsaku; and they decided, for the peace of the island, to break off the marriage, O Cho and her lover determining that at all events they would marry no one else.

However, even this great sacrifice had no effect. There were fully thirty men; in fact, the whole of the bachelors wanted to marry O Cho; they fought daily; the whole island was thrown into a discontent. Poor O Cho San! What could she do? Had not she and s.h.i.+nsaku done enough already in sacrificing happiness for the peace of the island? There was only one more thing she could do, and, being a j.a.panese girl, she did it. She wrote two letters, one to her brother Gisuke, another to s.h.i.+nsaku, bidding them farewell. 'The island of Hatsus.h.i.+ma has never had trouble until I was born,' she said. 'For three hundred years or more our people, though poor, have lived happily and in peace. Alas! now it is no longer so, on account of me. Farewell! I shall be dead. Tell our people that I have died to bring them back their senses, for they have been foolish about me. Farewell!'

After leaving the two letters where Gisuke slept, O Cho slipped stealthily out of the house (it was a pouring-wet and stormy night and the 10th of June), and cast herself into the sea from some rocks near her cottage, after well loading her sleeves with stones, so that she might rise no more.

Next morning, when Gisuke found the letters, instinctively he knew what must have happened, and rushed from the house to find s.h.i.+nsaku. Brother and lover read their letters together, and were stricken with grief, as, indeed, was every one else. A search was made, and soon O Cho's straw slippers were found on the point of rocks near her house. Gisuke knew she must have jumped into the sea here, and he and s.h.i.+nsaku dived down and found her body lying at the bottom. They brought it to the surface, and it was buried just beyond the rocks on which she had last stood.

From that day s.h.i.+nsaku was unable to sleep at night. The poor fellow was quite distracted. O Cho's letter and straw slippers he placed beside his bed and surrounded them with flowers. His days he spent decorating and weeping over her tomb.

At last one evening s.h.i.+nsaku resolved to make away with his own body, hoping that his spirit might find O Cho; and he wandered towards her tomb to take a last farewell. As he did so he thought he saw O Cho, and called her aloud three or four times, and then with outstretched arms he rushed delightedly at her. The noise awoke Gisuke, whose house was close to the grave. He came out, and found s.h.i.+nsaku clasping the stone pillar which was placed at its head.

s.h.i.+nsaku explained that he had seen the spirit of O Cho, and that he was about to follow her by taking his life; but from this he was dissuaded.

'Do not do that; devote your life, rather, and I will help with you in building a shrine dedicated to Cho. You will join her when you die by nature; but please her spirit here by never marrying another.'

s.h.i.+nsaku promised. The young men of the place now began to be deeply sorry for s.h.i.+nsaku. What selfish beasts they had been! they thought. However, they would mend their ways, and spend all their spare time in building a shrine to O Cho San; and this they did. The shrine is called 'The Shrine of O Cho San of Hatsus.h.i.+ma,' and a ceremony is held there every 10th of June. Curious to relate, it invariably rains on that day, and the fishermen say that the spirit of O Cho comes in the rain. Hence the song:-- To-day is the tenth of June. May the rain fall in torrents! For I long to see my dearest O Cho San. Hi, Hi, Ya-re-ko-no-sa! Ya-re-ko-no-sa!

The shrine still stands, I am told.

32. k.u.me Slays the Eagle, Torijima.

XXVIII THE KING OF TORIJIMAA 1.

MANY years ago there lived a Daimio called Tarao. His castle and home were at Osaki, in Osumi Province, and amongst his retinue was a faithful and favourite servant whose name was k.u.me Shuzen. k.u.me had long been land-steward to the Lord Tarao, and indeed acted for him in everything connected with business.

One day k.u.me had been despatched to the capital, Kyoto, to attend to business for his master, when the Daimio Tos.h.i.+ro of Hyuga quarrelled with the Daimio of Osumi over some boundary question, and, k.u.me not being there to help his master, who was a hasty person, the two clans fought at the foot of Mount Kitamata.

[paragraph continues] The Lord Tarao of Osumi was killed, and so were most of his men. They were most completely beaten. The survivors retired to their lord's castle at Osaki; but the enemy followed them up, and again defeated them, taking the castle.

Messengers had been despatched to bring back k.u.me, of course; but k.u.me decided that there was only one honourable thing to do, and that was to gather the few remaining samurai he could and fight again in his dead master's behalf. Unfortunately, only some fifty men came to his call. These, with k.u.me, hid in the mountains with the intention of waiting until they had recruited more. One of Tos.h.i.+ro's spies found this out, and all except k.u.me were taken prisoners.

Being hotly pursued, k.u.me hid himself in the daytime, and made for the sea by night. After three clays he reached Hizaki, and there, having bought all the provision he could carry, hid himself until an opportunity should come of seizing a boat in the darkness, hoping to baffle his pursuers.

k.u.me was no sailor; in fact, he had hardly ever been in a boat, and never except as a pa.s.senger. There was no difficulty in finding a boat. He pushed it off and let it drift, for he could not use the oar, and understood nothing about a sail. Fortunately, Hizaki is a long cape on the S.E. coast, facing the open Pacific, and therefore there was no difficulty in getting away, the wind being favourable and the tide as well; besides, there is here a strong current always travelling south towards the Loochoos. k.u.me was more or less indifferent as to where he went, and even if he had cared he could not have helped himself, for, though his knowledge of direction on land was very good, as soon as he found himself out of sight of land he was lost. All he knew was that where the sun rose there was no land which he could reach, that China lay in the direction in which it set, and that to the south there were islands which were reputed to hold savages, Nambanjin (foreign southern savages). Thus k.u.me drifted on, he knew not whither, lying in the bottom of the boat, and in no way economising his provisions; and it naturally came to pa.s.s that at the end of the second day he had no water left, and suffered much in consequence.

Towards morning on the fifth day k.u.me lay half-asleep in the bottom of the boat. Suddenly he felt it b.u.mp.

'What ho, she b.u.mps!' said he to himself in his native tongue, and, sitting up, he found he had drifted on to a rocky island. k.u.me was not long in scrambling ash.o.r.e and dragging his boat as high as he was able. The first thing he set about doing was to find water to quench his thirst. As he wandered along the rocky sh.o.r.e hunting for a stream, k.u.me knew that the island could not be inhabited, for there were tens of thousands of sea-fowl perched upon the rocks, feeding along the beach and floating on the water; others were sitting on eggs. k.u.me could see that he was not likely to starve while the birds were breeding, and he could see, moreover, that fish were there in abundance, for birds of the gannet species were simply gorging themselves with a kind of iwas.h.i.+ (sardine), which made the surface of the calm sea frizzle into foam in their endeavours to escape the larger fish that were pursuing them from underneath. Shoals of flying-fish came quite close to sh.o.r.e, pursued by the magnificent albacore; which clearly showed that fishermen did not visit these parts. Sh.e.l.l-fish were in plenty in the coral pools, and among them lay, thickly strewn, the smaller of the pearl mussels with which k.u.me was familiar in his own country.

There was no sand on this island--that is to say, on the seash.o.r.e. Everything seemed to be of coral formation, except that there was a thick reddish substance on the top of all, out of which grew low scrubby trees bearing many fruits, which k.u.me found quite excellent to eat. There was no trouble in finding water: there were several streams flowing down the beach and coming from the thick scrub.

k.u.me returned to his boat, to make sure that it was safe, and, having found a better cove for it, he moved it thither. Then, having eaten some more fruit and sh.e.l.lfish and seaweed, k.u.me lay down to sleep, and to think of his dead master, and wonder how he could eventually avenge him on the Daimio Tos.h.i.+ro of Hyuga.

When morning broke k.u.me was not a little surprised to see some eight or nine figures of people, as he first thought, sleeping; but when it grew lighter he found that they were turtles, and it was not long before he was on sh.o.r.e and had turned one; but then, recollecting that there was plenty of food without taking the life of a beast so much venerated, he let it go. 'Perhaps,' thought he, like Uras.h.i.+ma, my kindness to the turtle may save me. Indeed, these turtles may be messengers or retainers of the Sea King's Palace!'

One thing that k.u.me now decided was to learn to row and sail his boat. He set to that very morning, and almost mastered the art of using the immense sculling oar used by present and ancient j.a.panese alike. In the afternoon he visited the highest part of his island; but it was not high enough to enable him to see land, though he thought at one time that he could discern that faint line of blue on the horizon which prophesies distant land.

However, he was safe for the time; he had food in plenty, and water; true, the birds somewhat bothered him, for they did not act as might have been expected. There seemed something uncanny in the way they sat on their perches and watched him. He did not like that, and often threw a stone at them; but even that had little effect--they only seemed to look more serious.

Though k.u.me was no sailor, he was a good enough swimmer, as are most j.a.panese who live anywhere along the sea provinces, and he was quite able to dive in moderation and up to a depth of three j.a.panese fathoms--fifteen feet. Thus it was that k.u.me spent all the time he was not practising in his boat in diving for sh.e.l.lfish; he soon found that there were enormous quant.i.ties of pearl oysters, which contained beautiful pearls; and, having collected some fifty or sixty, large and small, he cut one of the sleeves of his coat and made a bag which he determined to fill. One day while k.u.me was diving about after his pearls and sh.e.l.l-fish, he found that by looking in the holes of rocks beneath the low-tide level he could find pearls that had fallen from the dead and rotten sh.e.l.ls above; in one case they were like gravel, and he took them out of a cavity by handfuls. Discoloured they certainly were; but k.u.me knew them from their roundness of shape, and rubbing with sand or earth soon proved them to be pearls. Thus it was that he worked with renewed energy, hoping all the time to make sufficient money to be able eventually to avenge his dead master.

One day, some six weeks after he had landed on the island, he saw a distant sail. Through the day he watched it carefully; but it did not seem to come or go much nearer, and k.u.me came to the conclusion that it must be the sail of a stationary fis.h.i.+ng-boat, for there was breeze enough to have taken it oil out of sight twice over since he had watched, if it had wanted to go.

'Surely there must be land somewhere over there beyond the boat: it would not be there for half a day if not. To-morrow, now that I can manage to sail and row my boat, I will start on an expedition and see. I do not expect to find my own countrymen there; but I may find Chinese who may be friendly, and if I find the southern savages I shall not, with my good j.a.panese sword, be afraid of them!'

Next morning k.u.me provisioned his boat with fruit, water, sh.e.l.l-fish, and eggs, and, tying his bag of pearls about him, set sail in a south-westerly direction. There was little wind, and the boat went slowly; but k.u.me steered steadily all night, as was natural, considering the little he knew. He dared not go to sleep and thus perhaps lose all idea of the direction whence he had come. Thus it came that when morning broke the sun rose on his port side, and he found himself not more than some four miles from an island which lay right ahead of him. Quite elated with his first success in navigation, k.u.me seized his oars and helped the boat along. On reaching the land his reception was anything but pleasant. At least one hundred angry savages were on the beach with spears and staves; but what were they (as my translator asks) to a j.a.panese samurai? Fifteen of them were put out of action without his getting a scratch, for k.u.me was well up in all the defensive arts that his military training had given him, and the tricks in jujitsu were familiar to him.

The rest of his adversaries became frightened and began to run. k.u.me caught one of them, and tried to ask what island this was, and what kind of people they were. By signs he explained that he was a j.a.panese and in no way an enemy, but on the contrary wished to be friendly, and, as they could see, he was alone. Greatly impressed with k.u.me's prowess, and glad that he did not wish to resume hostilities, the natives stuck their spears point-downwards in the sand, and came forward to k.u.me, who sheathed his sword and proceeded to examine the fifteen men he had laid low. Eleven of these had fallen by some clever jujitsu trick, and were to all intents and purposes dead; but k.u.me took them in various ways and restored them to life by a well-known art called kwatsu (really artificial breathing), which has been practised in j.a.pan for hundreds of years in connection with some secret jujitsu tricks which are said to kill you--unless some one is present who knows the art of kwatsu you must die if left for over two hours without being restored. At present it is illegal to kill temporarily even though you know the art of kwatsu. k.u.me restored nine of his fallen enemies, which in itself was considered to be a marvellous performance, and gained him much respect. Two others were dead. The rest had wounds from which they recovered.

Peace being established, k.u.me was escorted by the chief to the village and given a hut to himself, and he found the people kind and agreeable. A wife was given to him, and k.u.me settled down to the life of the island, and to learn the language, which in many ways resembled his own.

Sugar and yams were the princ.i.p.al things planted,--with, of course, rice in the hills and where there was sufficient water for terracing,--but fis.h.i.+ng formed the princ.i.p.al occupation of all. Four or five times a-year the islanders were visited by a junk which bought their produce, and exchanged things they wanted for it--such as beds, iron rods, calico, and salt. After three months' residence k.u.me was able to talk the language a little, and had managed to narrate his adventures; moreover, he had explained that the island from which he had sailed--he had named it Torijima,A 1 on account of the birds there--was a far better island than their own for all marine produce. 'Do, my friends,' said k.u.me, 'accompany me over there and see. I have shown you my pearls. I am not much of a diver; but, for those that are divers there are as many as you can wish--also sea-slugs, bche-de-mer, and namako of the very best kinds.'

'Do you know that the island which you call "Tori" is bewitched?' they asked. 'It is impossible to go there, for there is a gigantic bird which comes twice a-year and kills all men who have ventured to land. It could not have been there when you were, or you could not have lived a day.'

'Well, my friends,' said k.u.me, 'I am not afraid of a bird, and, as you have been very kind to me, I should like to show you my Torijima, for, though small, it is better than your island for all the things which come from the sea, and you would say so if you came. Please say that some of you will accompany me.'

At last thirty men said they would go; that would be three boat-loads of them.

Accordingly, next evening they started, and, as the direction was well known to the Loochooans, they reached the sh.o.r.es of Torijima just as the sun arose.

k.u.me's boat arrived first. Though he had been fully warned of the great bird which must have been absent when he was in the island, k.u.me landed alone, and was proceeding up the sh.o.r.e when an immense eagle with a body larger than his own swept down on him and began to fight. k.u.me, being a j.a.panese, immediately cut the monster in half.

From that day Torijima has been settled on by fishermen, and has afforded more pearls, coral, and fish than the other, which they named k.u.mijima, and sometimes Shuzen s.h.i.+ma (both being his names); moreover, k.u.me Shuzen was made the king of both islands. k.u.me never got back to j.a.pan to avenge his master the Lord Tarao. Indeed, he was better off than he had ever been before, and lived a happy life on the two wild Loochoo islands, which had not yet come under the Chinese rule, being too small to be thought of.

After some fifteen years k.u.me died and was buried on k.u.mijima. My story-teller says that those who visit the Loochoos and pa.s.s k.u.mijima will notice from the sea a monument erected to k.u.me Shuzen.

Footnotes.

168:1 It is impossible to say exactly to which of the Torijima islands this story relates. There are two--one a rock islet some sixty miles east of Okinawajima, the main island on which is the capital of all the islands, Nafa; and the other or larger Torijima, between longitude 128A and 129A, and not far south of lat.i.tudinal line 38A. My story-teller declares the tale to be about the Rocky Island South, which charts show as 60 feet above water at high tide, by reason of there being an island adjacent called k.u.mes.h.i.+ma; while I argue that it is more probably about the northern Torijima, adjacent to which is a large island named Takunes.h.i.+ma, which might very well have been meant for k.u.mes.h.i.+ma. With j.a.panese, Chinese, and English names, these islands are very puzzling. The j.a.panese, though excellent map-makers, are bad geographers, changing names as they think fit.

175:1 Tori-bird Island.

33. Okureha is Saved by the G.o.ddess.

XXIX THE PERPETUAL LIFE-GIVING WINE.

BETWEEN the north-eastern boundary of Totomi Province and the north-western of Suruga Province stands a lofty mountain, Daimugenzan. It is a wild and rugged mountain, clad nearly three-quarters up with lofty pines, yenoki, icho, camphors, etc. There are but few paths, and hardly any one goes up the hill. About half-way up through the forest is a shrine erected to Kwannon; but it is so small that no priest lives there, and the building is rotting away. No one knows why it was put up in such an inaccessible place--except, perhaps, one solitary girl and her parents, who used to go there for some reason of their own.

One day, about 1107 A.D., the girl was praying for her mother's recovery from sickness. Okureha was her name. She lived at Tas.h.i.+ro, at the foot of the mountain, and was the beauty of the countryside,--the daughter of a much-loved samurai of some importance. Amid the solemn silence Okureha clapped her hands thrice before Kwannon as she prayed, causing mountain echoes to resound. Having finished her prayers, Okureha began to make her way downwards, when she was suddenly sprung upon by a ruffianly-looking man, who seized her by the arm.

She cried aloud for help; but nothing came except the echoes of her voice, and she gave herself up for lost.

Suddenly a piercing cold breeze came along, carrying the autumn leaves in little columns. Okureha struggled violently with her a.s.sailant, who seemed to weaken to the cold wind as it struck his face. Okureha weakened too. In a few seconds the man fell down as in a drunken sleep, and she was on the point of falling (she knew not why) and of sleeping (scarce could she keep her eyes open). Just then the wind came hot instead of cold, and she felt herself awake again. On looking up she saw advancing towards her a beautiful girl, apparently not many years older than herself. The stranger was dressed in white, and seemed to glide. Her face was white as the snow which capped Mount Daimugenzan; her brows were crescent-shaped, like those of Buddha; her mouth was like flowers. In a silvery voice she called to Okureha, saying: 'Be neither surprised nor afraid, my child. I saw that you were in danger, and I came to your rescue by putting that savage creature to sleep; I sent the warm breeze so that you might not fall. You need not fear that the man is dead. I can revive him if I choose, or keep him as he is if I wish. What is your name?'

Okureha fell on her knees to express her thanks, and, rising, said: 'My name is Okureha. My father is the samurai who owns the greater part of the village of Tas.h.i.+ro, at the foot of the mountain. My mother being A .

34. The G.o.ddess of Mount Daimugenzan.

A ill, I have come up to this old shrine to pray Kwannon for her recovery. Five times have I been up before, but never met any one until to-day, when this dreadful man attacked me. I owe my deliverance entirely to you, holy lady, and I am humbly and deeply grateful. I do hope I shall be able to come here and pray at this shrine again. My father and mother prayed here before I was born both to Kwannon and to the TenninA 1 of the mountain. They had no child, and I was sent to them after their prayers. Therefore it is right that I should come here to pray for my mother; but this horrid man has frightened me so that I shall be afraid to come alone again.'

The Mountain G.o.ddess (for such was Okureha's rescuer) smiled, and said: 'You need have no fear, my pretty child. Come here when you will, and I shall be your protector. Children who are as devoted to their parents as you are deserve all that is good, and are holy in themselves. If you wish to please me, come again to-morrow, so that we may converse; and bring me some flowers from the fields, for I never descend low enough on earth to get these, though they are my favourites--they smell so sweet. And now you had better go home. When you have had time to reach there I will restore this horrid man to life and let him go. He is not likely to return to molest you.'

'I shall be here to-morrow,' said Okureha, bowing her thanks amid her 'Sayonaras.'

Okureha San was so much impressed by the face of the G.o.ddess that she could not sleep, and at daybreak next morning was out in the fields gathering flowers, which she took up the mountain to the shrine, where she found the G.o.ddess waiting.

They talked on many subjects, and enjoyed each other's company, and arranged to meet often. Consequently, whenever Okureha had time she always went up the mountain. This continued for nearly a year, when Okureha went up with flowers for the G.o.ddess as usual; but she was looking sad, and felt sad.

'Why is this?' asked the G.o.ddess. 'Why are you so sad?'

'Ah, your Holiness is right,' said Okureha. 'I am sad, for this may be the last day I can come up here and see you. I am now seventeen years of age, and my parents think me old enough to marry. Twelve years ago my father arranged that I should marry the son of one of his friends, Tokue, of Iwasakimura, when we were old enough. Now I am said to be old enough: so I must marry. The wedding is to be in three days. After that I shall have to stay at home and work for my husband, and I fear I shall not see you any more. That is why I am sad.' As she spoke tears ran down her cheeks, and there was for a few moments no consoling her; but the G.o.ddess soothed her, saying: 'You must not be sad, dear child. On the contrary, you are about to enter the happiest state of life, by being married. If people were not married, and did not produce children to inherit new spirits and life, there could be no continuation. Go back, my child, happily; get married and produce children. You will be happy and doing your duty to the world and to the G.o.ddess. Before we say farewell, I give you this small gourd of furoshu.A 1 Take care of it on your way down the mountain, and when you are married give some to your husband. You will both remain as you are in appearance, never growing a day older though you live for centuries, as you will do; and also it will bring you perfect happiness. Now, farewell!'

Again the tears came to Okureha's eyes as she bade farewell to her benefactress; but she mustered all her pluck, and, making her last bow, took her way down the mountain, weeping as she went. Three days later Okureha was married. It was a lucky day according to the calendars, and, moreover, it was the year that the Emperor Toba came to the throne, 1108 A.D.

One day, when celebrating this event at a picnic, Okureha gave her husband some of the furoshu sakA, and took the rest herself, as the G.o.ddess had bidden her. They were sitting on a beautiful green gra.s.sy spot, whereon grew wild violets of delicious fragrance; at their feet gurgled a mountain stream of sparkling clearness. To their surprise, they found petals of cherry blossom suddenly falling all round them. There were no cherry trees near, and at first they were much puzzled; but they saw in the blue sky one white cloud which had just sailed over them, and seated thereon was the G.o.ddess of Mount Daimugenzan. Okureha recognised her, and pointed her out to her husband as their benefactress. The white cloud carried her up to the top of the mountain, where it hovered until the shades of evening hid it.

Okureha and her husband never grew older. They lived for hundreds of years as Sennins in Mount Daimugenzan.

Footnotes.

180:1 Angel.

182:1 Sake wine of perpetual youth.

35. The Old Hermit Entertains the Children.

x.x.x THE HERMIT'S CAVE.

MANY years ago there lived in the village of Nomugi, in Hida Province, an old farmer named Jinnai, with his wife. They had a daughter on whom they simply doted. Her name was Yuka. She was seven years of age, and an extremely beautiful child. Unfortunately, just at this age she developed something the matter with her leg, which grew worse and worse until the limb became deformed. O Yuka suffered no pain; but her parents were much troubled. Doctors, drugs, and the advice of many friends made Yuka's leg no better.

'How sad it will be for her later on!' thought her mother and father. 'Even now it is sad that she should have a deformed leg when she plays with other children.'

There being no help, Yuka and her parents had to make the best of things. In any case, Yuka was not the only deformity in the village. There were other cases.--One of Yuka's boy playmates, Tarako, had been born blind; and another, Rinkichi, was so deaf that he could hold his ear to the temple bell while the other children struck it, and he never heard the sound, though he felt a vibration. Well, these two were perhaps no better off than Yuka, and at last her parents began to console themselves. The child played about and seemed perfectly happy.

Nomugi village is at the foot of the great mountain Norikuradake, which rises 10,500 feet, and is a wild place of volcanic origin.

Many of the children of Nomugi used to go daily and play on the gra.s.sy slope of an old dam at the end of the village. They would throw stones into the water, fish, sail boats, and pick flowers. The dam was a kind of club for the children. From morning to evening they were there, having with them their rice to eat.

One day, while thus playing, they were surprised by an old man with a long white beard approaching them. He came from the direction of the mountain. All stopped their games to watch him. He came on into their midst, and, patting them on the head, seemed to make friends naturally. Taking notice of Yuka's bad leg, the old man said: 'Come! how is this? Have not your parents tried to cure it?' Little Yuka answered that they had, but that they could not do any good. The old man made her lie down on the gra.s.s, and began to manipulate the leg, pulling it this way and that way, and rubbed in some red medicine which he took from a case. The old man then operated on Tarako the blind boy, and on Rinkichi the deaf one.

'Now, my children,' said he, 'you all love your fathers and mothers, and it will be a great pleasure to them to find you cured of your ailments. You are not well yet; but you will be, if you do what I tell you, in less than three or four days. You are not to mention having seen me until I tell you that you may--after you are cured. Tomorrow you will meet me at the flat rock under the cave on Mount Norikuradake. You know the place. Very well: until to-morrow good-bye, and if I find you do as I tell you I will make you all laugh by showing you some fancy tricks.' Then he trudged off in the direction whence he had come.

The children continued their play, thinking 'What a nice old man!' And, strange to say, O Yuka, as she walked home, felt her leg to be of greater use.

Very little attention is paid to j.a.panese children. They are nearly always good and well-behaved, little grown-up people in fact; and therefore they ate their suppers and went to bed as such, giving no account of their day's amus.e.m.e.nts, or of the strange old man.

Next day they went to the flat rock. As it was wet, they had not started until late; but they found the old man, and, though he had no time to play with them and show the tricks which he had promised, he attended to Yuka's leg, and to the dumb boy and the blind.

'Now go home,' he said, 'and come back here tomorrow. By the time you get home Yuka's leg will be well, Tarako will be able to see, and Rinkichi able to hear; and I am sure your relations will be delighted. To-morrow, if it is fine, you must come early, and we shall have lots of fun.'

Even before they got home everything came about as the old man had said. The three children were recovered. The villagers and the parents rejoiced together; but all were mystified as to who the magician could be.

'If he returns to the mountain, as the children say, then he must live in the cave,' said one. 'He must be a Sennin,' said another. 'It is rumoured that the most famous priest, Kukai shonin, who founded the sacred temple on Mount Koyasan, in Kii Province, was able to make these wondrous cures in children,' added another. But, with all the gossiping and conjectures, none could explain how it was possible to bring sight to a boy who had been born blind. At last some one suggested that two or three should follow the children secretly on the following day: by hiding themselves they might be able to see what happened. This excellent plan was adopted.

In the morning about thirty children started off at daybreak, followed, unknown to themselves, by two men of the village.

When the children arrived at the flat rock--which is said to be large enough to measure one thousand j.a.panese mats of six feet by three feet--they found the old man seated at one end of it. The two men who had followed hid themselves in some fine azalea bushes.

First they saw the old man rise to his feet, and then go over to the children and hear from the three cured ones how they felt, and how their parents had been pleased. Tarako was the most delighted, perhaps, of the three; for he had never seen the world before, or even his parents.

'Now, my children, you have come here to see me, and I am going to amuse you all. See here!' Saying this, the old man picked up some dead sticks, and, blowing at their ends, produced blossoming cherry branches, plum blossoms, and peach, and handed a branch of each to the girls. Next he took a stone and threw it into the air, and behold! it turned into a dove. Another turned into a hawk, or, in fact, into any bird a boy chose to name.

'Now,' said the old man, 'I will show you some animals that will make you laugh.' He recited some mystic verse, and monkeys came leaping on the flat rock and began to wrestle with one another. The children clapped their hands in delight; but one of the men who was hidden exclaimed in his astonishment: 'Who can this wizard be? No other but a wizard could do such things!'

The venerable old man heard, and, looking cautiously round, said: 'Children, I can do no more tricks to-day. My spell has gone. I will go to my home, and you had better go to yours. Farewell.'

So saying, the old man bowed to them, and turned up the mountain path, taking the direction of the cave.

The two men came out from their hiding, and they, with the children, tried to follow him. In spite of his great age, he was much more nimble than they among the rocks; but they got far enough to see him enter the cave. Some minutes later they came to the entrance, and bowed before it. The entrance was surrounded by fragrant flowers; but into its dark depths they did not venture.

Suddenly O Yuka pointed upwards, crying, 'There is the old grandfather!' They all looked up; and standing on a cloud was the old man, right over the summit of the mountain.

'Ah, now it is quite clear!' cried one of the men. 'It is the famous hermit of Mount Norikuradake.' They all bowed low, and then went home to report to the villagers what they had seen.