Ancient Tales and Folk-Lore of Japan Part 9

Subscriptions were collected; a small temple was built inside the cave, and they called it the 'Sendokutsu Temple,' which means The Sennin's Temple.

36. The Spirit of Fuji Shows Yosoji the Health-Giving Stream.

x.x.xI YOSOJI'S CAMELLIA TREE.

IN the reign of the Emperor Sanjo began a particularly unlucky time. It was about the year 1013 A. D. when Sanjo came to the throne--the first year of Chowa. Plague broke out. Two years later the Royal Palace was burned down, and a war began with Korea, then known as 's.h.i.+ragi.'

In 1016 another fire broke out in the new Palace. A year later the Emperor gave up the throne, owing to blindness and for other causes. He handed over the reins of office to Prince Atsuhara, who was called the Emperor Go Ichijo, and came to the throne in the first year of Kwannin, about 1017 or 1018. The period during which the Emperor Go Ichijo reigned--about twenty years, up to 1036--was one of the worst in j.a.panese history. There were more wars, more fires, and worse plagues than ever. Things were in disorder generally, and even Kyoto was hardly safe to people of means, owing to the bands of brigands. In 1025 the most appalling outbreak of smallpox came; there was hardly a village or a town in j.a.pan which escaped.

It is at this period that our story begins. Our heroine (if such she may be called) is no less a deity than the G.o.ddess of the great mountain of Fuji, which nearly all the world has heard of, or seen depicted. Therefore, if the legend sounds stupid and childish, blame only my way of telling it (simply, as it was told to me), and think of the Great Mountain of j.a.pan, as to which anything should be interesting; moreover, challenge others for a better. I have been able to find none myself.

During the terrible scourge of smallpox there was a village in Suruga Province called Kamiide, which still exists, but is of little importance. It suffered more badly than most other villages. Scarce an inhabitant escaped. A youth of sixteen or seventeen years was much tried. His mother was taken with the disease, and, his father being dead, the responsibility of the household fell on Yosoji--for such was his name.

Yosoji procured all the help he could for his mother, sparing nothing in the way of medicines and attendance; but his mother grew worse day by day, until at last her life was utterly despaired of. Having no other resource left to him, Yosoji resolved to consult a famous fortuneteller and magician, Kamo Yamakiko.

Kamo Yamakiko told Yosoji that there was but one chance that his mother could be cured, and that lay much with his own courage. 'If,' said the fortune-teller, 'you will go to a small brook which flows from the southwestern side of Mount Fuji, and find a small shrine near its source, where Oki-naga-suku-neoA 1 is wors.h.i.+pped, you may be able to cure your mother by bringing her water therefrom to drink. But I warn you that the place is full of dangers from wild beasts and other things, and that you may not return at all or even reach the place.'

Yosoji, in no way discouraged, made his mind up that he would start on the following morning, and, thanking the fortune-teller, went home to prepare for an early start.

At three o'clock next morning he was off.

It was a long and rough walk, one which he had never taken before; but he trudged gaily on, being sound of limb and bent on an errand of deepest concern.

Towards midday Yosoji arrived at a place where three rough paths met, and was sorely puzzled which to take. While he was deliberating the figure of a beautiful girl clad in white came towards him through the forest. At first Yosoji felt inclined to run; but the figure called to him in silvery notes, saying: 'Do not go. I know what you are here for. You are a brave lad and a faithful son. I will be your guide to the stream, and--take my word for it--its waters will cure your mother. Follow me if you will, and have no fear, though the road is bad and dangerous.'

The girl turned, and Yosoji followed in wonderment.

In silence the two went for fully four miles, always upwards and into deeper and more gloomy forests. At last a small shrine was reached, in front of which were two Torii's, and from a cleft of a rock gurgled a silvery stream, the clearness of which was such as Yosoji had never seen before.

'There,' said the white-robed girl, 'is the stream of which you are in search. Fill your gourd, and drink of it yourself, for the waters will prevent you catching the plague. Make haste, for it grows late, and it would not be well for you to be here at night. I shall guide you back to the place where I met you.'

Yosoji did as he was bid, drinking, and then filling the bottle to the brim.

Much faster did they return than they had come, for the way was all downhill. On reaching the meeting of the three paths Yosoji bowed low to his guide, and thanked her for her great kindness; and the girl told him again that it was her pleasure to help so dutiful a son.

'In three days you will want more water for your mother,' said she, 'and I shall be at the same place to be your guide again.'

'May I not ask to whom I am indebted for this great kindness?' asked Yosoji.

'No: you must not ask, for I should not tell you,' answered the girl. Bowing again, Yosoji proceeded on his way as fast as he could, wondering greatly.

On reaching home he found his mother worse. He gave her a cup of the water, and told her of his adventures. During the night Yosoji awoke as usual to attend to his mother's wants, and to give her another bowl of water. Next morning he found that she was decidedly better. During the day he gave her three more doses, and on the morning of the third day he set forth to keep his appointment with the fair lady in white, whom he found seated waiting for him on a rock at the meeting of the three paths.

'Your mother is better I can see from your happy face,' said she. 'Now follow me as before, and make haste. Come again in three days, and I will meet you. It will take five trips in all, for the water must be taken fresh. You may give some to the sick villagers as well.'

Five times did Yosoji take the trip. At the end of the fifth his mother was perfectly well, and must thankful for her restoration; besides which, most of the villagers who had not died were cured. Yosoji was the hero of the hour. Every one marvelled, and wondered who the white-robed girl was; for, though they had heard of the shrine of Oki-naga-suku-neo, none of them knew where it was, and but few would have dared to go if they had known. Of course, all knew that Yosoji was indebted in the first place to the fortune-teller Kamo Yamakiko, to whom the whole village sent presents. Yosoji was not easy in his mind. In spite of the good he had brought about, he thought to himself that he owed the whole of his success in finding and bringing the water to the village to his fair guide, and he did not feel that he had. shown sufficient grat.i.tude. Always he had hurried home as soon as he had got the precious water, bowing his thanks. That was all, and now he felt as if more were due. Surely prayers at the shrine were due, or something; and who was the lady in white? He must find out. Curiosity called upon him to do so. Thus Yosoji resolved to pay one more visit to the spring, and started early in the morning.

Now familiar with the road, he did not stop at the meeting of the three paths, but pursued his way directly to the shrine. It was the first time he had travelled the road alone, and in spite of himself he felt afraid, though he could not say why. Perhaps it was the oppressive gloom of the mysterious dark forest, overshadowed by the holy mountain of Fuji, which in itself was more mysterious still, and filled one both with superst.i.tious and religious feelings and a feeling of awe as well. No one of any imagination can approach the mountain even to-day without having one or all of these emotions.

Yosoji, however, sped on, as fast as he could go, and arrived at the shrine of Oki-naga-suku-neo. He found that the stream had dried up. There was not a drop of water left. Yosoji flung himself upon his knees before the shrine and thanked the G.o.d of Long Breath that he had been the means of curing his mother and the surviving villagers. He prayed that his guide to the spring might reveal her presence, and that he might be enabled to meet her once more to thank her for her kindness. When he arose Yosoji saw his guide standing beside him, and bowed low. She was the first to speak.

'You must not come here,' she said. 'I have told you so before. It is a place of great danger for you. Your mother and the villagers are cured. There is no reason for you to come here more.'

'I have come,' answered Yosoji, 'because I have not fully spoken my thanks, and because I wish to tell you how deeply grateful I am to you, as is my mother and as are the whole of our villagers. Moreover, they all as well as I wish to know to whom they are indebted for my guidance to the spring. Though Kamo Yamakiko told me of the spring, I should never have found it but for your kindness, which has now extended over five weeks. Surely you will let us know to whom we are so much indebted, so that we may at least erect a shrine in our temple?'

'All that you ask is unnecessary. I am glad that you are grateful. I knew that one so truly filial as you must be so, and it is because of your filial piety and goodness that I guided you to this health-giving spring, which, as you see, is dry, having at present no further use. It is unnecessary that you should know who I am. We must now part: so farewell. End your life as you have begun it, and you shall be happy.' The beautiful maiden swung a wild camellia branch over her head as if with a beckoning motion, and a cloud came down from the top of the Mount Fuji, enveloping her at first in mist. It then arose, showing her figure to the weeping Yosoji, who now began to realise that he loved the departing figure, and that it was no less a figure than that of the great G.o.ddess of Fujiyama. Yosoji fell on his knees and prayed to her, and the G.o.ddess, acknowledging his prayer, threw down the branch of wild camellia.

Yosoji carried it home, and planted it, caring for it with the utmost attention. The branch grew to a tree with marvellous rapidity, being over twenty feet high in two years. A shrine was built; people came to wors.h.i.+p the tree; and it is said that the dewdrops from its leaves are a cure for all eye-complaints.

Footnotes.

190:1 The G.o.d of Long Breath.

37. Yoda Emon Finds Himself on a Whale's Back.

x.x.xII WHALES.

THERE are many stories and superst.i.tions regarding whales. I take one, dating back to the period of 'Hoen' (1135), which will show the veneration and the fear in which the j.a.panese have always held these creatures. I will annex the translation by Mr. Ando, of our Consulate, of a newspaper paragraph of date February 12, 1907, showing that the superst.i.tions are still current.

Some hundred and seventy-two years ago, when the 'Hoen' period began, the shrine of Atsuta at Nagoya was burned down. For some reason this calamity was said at the time to have happened because the head shrine-watcher, Yoda Emon, had startled one of the G.o.ds.A 1 Well, at any rate the holy shrine was burned down, and the caretaker was exiled to Os.h.i.+ma Island, in Idzu [paragraph continues] Province, now generally known as 'Vries' Island. It is the largest and most northerly of the group of islands which run in a chain towards the south-east. The nearest to Os.h.i.+ma is Tos.h.i.+ Island, often named Ris.h.i.+ma, of which our story is told.

Yoda Emon was a man of active mind and pursuits. Perhaps that is why he startled the G.o.d who caused the fire at Atsuta. In any case, he felt his exile greatly. He could gain no news of home or family, and he fretted and worried himself to such an extent that at last his nights became sleepless and he thought to himself that if some relief to his mind did not come soon he must either kill himself or go mad.

At last it occurred to him that possibly he might get permission to go fis.h.i.+ng; and the permission was given him, on condition that he kept within a mile of the sh.o.r.e. Day after day Yoda took the boat which was lent him, and returned generally with a goodly supply of fish, singing to himself as he rowed in to and out from the sh.o.r.e. He soon managed to sleep soundly and regain his strength. After a month or two Yoda became quite a popular person, giving his fish away free to any who chose to take them, and he was soon allowed a wider range than the one-mile limit. He became an expert sailor, and had it not been for the loss of his family he would have been quite happy in his new home. One day, the morning being calm, Yoda ventured farther away than usual, hoping to capture some of the larger fish which were reputed to be plentiful some ten miles from Tos.h.i.+s.h.i.+ma. He was lucky, and landed three magnificent fish of the mackerel family, known as 'sara' in j.a.pan, 'seer' in India, and 'albacore' with us in England, who never see them. Unfortunately, after this the wind, instead of springing up from the south-east as usual, came out from the north-west, and, instead of being able to return to Os.h.i.+ma, Yoda found himself being blown farther from it. The wind came stronger and stronger, until a gale was blowing, and soon the currents caused a high and breaking sea. Darkness set in, and Yoda thought to himself that this was a visitation upon him for having caught fish. 'Oh,' cried he aloud, 'what foolish sin have I now committed? Surely my position as a banished priest should have told me that I was sinning in catching fis.h.!.+' He flung himself on the bottom of the boat and prayed; but his prayers availed him nothing, for the wind increased in force, and so did the sea. Long after midnight a big wave smashed the boat to splinters. Half-stunned, half-drowned, Yoda clung to the large oar, and so remained for some three hours.

At last he felt himself being b.u.mped against what he took to be a rock, and letting go the oar scrambled on to it more dead than alive. After many efforts, so exhausted was he and so numbed, he sat there only half-conscious in the dark.

Towards morning the turn of tide caused the sea to smooth down, and as the sun rose Yoda found to his horror that it was no rock upon which he sat, but the back of a live whale of gigantic size. Yoda knew neither what to do nor what to think; he dared not move, for fear of disturbing the whale's repose. Not even when the animal blew water and air from its spout-hole did he venture to turn his body. But silently he muttered prayers all the time. At last, when the sun was full up, the whale began to turn round, and as it did so Yoda saw a large fis.h.i.+ng-boat not more than half a mile away. He shouted and shouted at the top of his voice, trying to attract attention; but move he dared not, lest the whale should leave him. The wind was still high; but the sea was smooth.

Suddenly the fis.h.i.+ng-boat changed its course, and the whale lay still again, basking in the suns.h.i.+ne. The boat advanced rapidly, and when about eighty feet from the whale brought up to the wind and lay still. A life-line with a buoy attached was drifted towards the whale, and when it was near enough Yoda slid off to take it, and was hauled into the boat, thoroughly thankful for his rescue. As soon as Yoda was on board, the boat began to roll, for the whale lashed his tail and was playing about, causing quite a heavy sea; but, to the relief of all, the creature headed south for the open Pacific.

The crew on the fis.h.i.+ng-boat belonged to Tos.h.i.+ Island, and had heard of Yoda Emon, and, being good-natured fellows, felt sorry for him in his exile. After his astonis.h.i.+ng adventure with the whale, they did not in the least mind taking him back to Os.h.i.+ma, which they reached about sundown.

Yoda immediately reported himself, and was congratulated on his extraordinary escape.

After this Yoda gave up fis.h.i.+ng, and submitted without grumbling to the severe discipline of his exile. On the occasion of Prince Tanin ascending the throne, an ordinance was issued giving freedom to many prisoners and exiles. Yoda Emon was among them, and was given permission to return home; but he said he had made so many friends on the island, and his life had been saved so miraculously, that he preferred to live where he was. And he obtained official permission to do so, and to send for his family, which after building a house he did. In the first year of Koji 1142-1141., Yoda was made Mayor of s.h.i.+chito--that is the seven islands lying round or south of Os.h.i.+ma and including itself. 'Now,' thought he, 'I shall be able to repay the kindness that the whale showed me in saving my life!' And he issued an order that no whales were to be chased or killed anywhere near the islands over which he had jurisdiction. At first there was some grumbling; but the Government sent messengers to Os.h.i.+ma to say that the Emperor approved Yoda Emon's order, and furthermore, that during Yoda's life no whale was to be killed anywhere in s.h.i.+chito.

A .

WHALE AND WHALER.--Some years ago there lived a wealthy fisherman called Matsus.h.i.+ma Tomigoro at Matsus.h.i.+ma, in Nagasaki. He made a large fortune by whale-fis.h.i.+ng. One night he dreamed a strange dream. A whale (zato kujira), carrying a baby whale, appeared before his pillow, and requested him to let her and the baby go safely--they were going to pa.s.s a certain part of the sea at a certain time and date. Matsus.h.i.+ma heartlessly did not accede, but took advantage of the information. He put a net in the said sea at the due time, and caught a whale and her baby. Not long after, the cruel fisherman began to reap the harvest of his mercilessness. Misfortune after misfortune befell him, and all his wealth disappeared. 'It must be the result of his cruelty in killing the whale and its baby,' said the neighbours; and for some time they never caught whales carrying babies. (Translated by Mr. Ando.) Footnotes.

196:1 The G.o.ds princ.i.p.ally wors.h.i.+pped at Atsuta are the Sun G.o.ddess Amateras, her brother Susa-no-o, Prince Yamato-take, his wife Miyazu-hime, and her brother Take-ino-tane; but the object most venerated is the sword called 'Kusa-nagi no Tsurugi,' one of the three princ.i.p.al antique objects which form the Imperial Regalia of j.a.pan, and of which I have previously told a story or two, notably that of 'Yamato-dake no Mikoto' (p. 56 et seq.).

38. Hanano San Takes the Cherry Branch From the Youth.

x.x.xIII THE HOLY CHERRY TREE OF MUSUBI-NO-KAMI TEMPLE.

IN the province of Mimasaka is a small town called Kagami, and in the temple grounds is a shrine which has been there for some hundreds of years, and is dedicated to Musubi-no-Kami, the G.o.d of Love. Near by once stood a magnificent old cherry tree which was given the name of Kanzakura, or Holy Cherry, and it is in honour of this tree that the shrine dedicated to the G.o.d of Love was built.

Long ago, when the village of Kagami was smaller than it is at present, it had as one of its chief residents a man called Sodayu. Sodayu was one of those men, to be found in most j.a.panese villages, who with but little work thrive on the work of others and grow richer than most. He bought and he sold their crops, making commission both ways, and before he was middle-aged he was a rich man.

Sodayu was a widower; but he had a lovely daughter who was aged seventeen, and it was thought by Sodayu that the time had now arrived for him to look about for a desirable husband for Hanano. Accordingly he called her to him and said: 'The time has come, my dear child, when it is my duty to find you a suitable husband. When I have done so you will, I trust, approve of him, for it will be your duty to marry him.'

Of course, O Hanano bowed her willingness to do just as her father decreed; but at the same time she confided in her favourite servant Yuka that she did not care about being married to a man that she might not love.

'What can I do--what would you advise me to do--my dear O Yuka? Do try and think how you can help me to obtain a man I can love. A handsome man he must be, and not more than twenty-two years of age.'

O Yuka answered that the advice asked for was difficult to give; but there was one thing, she said. 'You can go to the temple and pray at the shrine of Musubi-no-Kami, the G.o.d of Love. Pray him that the husband your father finds may be handsome and after your own heart. They say that if you pray at this shrine twenty-one days in succession you will obtain the kind of lover you want.'

O Hanano was pleased with the idea, and that afternoon, accompanied by Yuka, her maid, she went to pray at the shrine of Musubi-no-Kami. Day after day they continued until the twenty-first and last day of the series had arrived. They had finished their prayers and were on their way from the temple and pa.s.sing under the great cherry tree known as the 'Kanzakura' or Holy Cherry, when they saw, standing near its stem, a youth of some twenty or twenty-one years. He was handsome, with a pale face and expressive eyes. In his hand he held a branch of cherry-blossom. He smiled pleasantly at Hanano, and she at him; then, bowing, he came forward and smilingly presented her with the blossom. Hanano blushed, and took the flowers. The youth bowed again and walked away; as did Hanano, who had a fluttering heart and felt very happy, for she thought that this youth must be the one sent by the G.o.d of Love in answer to her prayers. 'Of course it must be,' she said to O Yuka. This is the twenty-first, and that completes the course of prayer you spoke of. Am I not lucky? And is he not handsome? I do not think it possible that a more handsome youth was ever seen. I wish he had not gone away so soon.' This and much more did O Hanano prattle to her maid on their way home, upon reaching which the first thing she did was to put the cherry-blossom branch into a vase in her own room.

'O Yuka!' she called for the twentieth time at least. 'Now you must go and find out all you can about the young man; but say nothing to my father as yet. Possibly it is not the husband he is choosing for me; but I can love no other, at all events, and I must love him in secret if this is the case. Now go, dear Yuka. Find out all you can and you will prove yourself more faithful and dear to me than ever.' And the faithful maid went on her young mistress's errand.

Now, O Yuka found out nothing about the youth they had seen under the Holy Cherry tree; but she found out that there was another youth in the village who had fallen greatly in love with her mistress, and, as he had heard that O Hanano's father was looking out for a suitable husband, he intended to apply next day himself. His name was Tokunosuke. He was a fairly well-connected youth, and had some means; but his looks were in no way comparable with those of the youth who had handed the cherry branch to Hanano. Having discovered this much, Yuka returned to her young mistress and reported.

Next day, early in the morning, at the most formal calling hour, Tokunosuke went by appointment to see Hanano's father. Hanano was called to serve tea, and saw the young man. Tokunosuke was scrupulously formal and polite to her, and she to him; and soon after he left Hanano was told by her father that that was the young man whom he had chosen to be her husband. 'He is desirable in every way,' he added. 'He has money. His father is my friend, and he has secretly loved you for some months. You can ask for nothing better.'

O Hanano made no answer, but burst out crying and left the room; and Yuka was called in her stead.

'I have found a most desirable young man as husband for your mistress,' said Sodayu; 'but instead of showing pleasure and grat.i.tude she has flown from the room crying. Can you explain to me the reason? You must know her secrets. Has she a lover unknown to me?'

O Yuka was not prepared to face the anger of her mistress's father, and she thought that truth in this especial instance would further Hanano's interests best. So she told the story faithfully and boldly. Sodayu thanked her for it, and again called his daughter to him, telling her that she must either produce her lover or .allow Tokunosuke to call and press his suit. Next morning Tokunosuke did call; but Hanano told him with tears in her eyes that she could not love him, for she loved another, whose name she did not even know herself.

'This is a strange piece of news,' thought Tokunosuke to himself. 'Almost insulting to love a man whose name she does not know!' And, bowing low, he left the house, determined to find out who his nameless rival was, even if he had to disguise himself and follow Hanano to do so.

That very afternoon Hanano and Yuka went to pray as usual, and on coming away they again found the handsome youth standing under the cherry tree, and again he advanced and smilingly handed Hanano a branch full of bloom; but again no words came from his lips, and it was evident to Tokunosuke (who was hiding behind some stone lanterns) that they could not have known each other long.

In a few moments they bowed and separated. O Hanano and her maid walked away from the temple, while the youth under the cherry tree looked after them.

Tokunosuke was now furiously jealous. He came from his hiding-place, and accosted the youth under the cherry tree in a rude and rough tone.

'Who are you, you hateful rascal? Give me your name and address at once! And tell me how you dare tempt the beautiful O Hanano San to love you!' He was about to seize his enemy by the arm when the enemy jumped suddenly back a step, and before Tokunosuke had time to catch him a sudden gust of wind blew the bloom thickly off the cherry tree. So thick and quickly did the blossoms fall, they blinded Tokunosuke for some moments. When he could see again the handsome youth was gone; but there was a strange moaning sound inside the cherry tree, while one of the temple priests came rus.h.i.+ng at him in great anger, crying 'Ah! you sacrilegious villain!

What do you mean by attempting violence here? Do you not know that this cherry tree has stood here for hundreds of years? It is sacred, and contains a holy spirit, which sometimes comes forth in the form of a youth. It is he that you tried to touch with your filthy and unholy hand. Begone, I say, and never dare enter this temple again!'

Tokunosuke did not want pressing. He took to his heels and ran, and he ran straight to the house of Sodayu, and told what he had seen, and what had befallen himself, omitting nothing, even to the names the priest had called him.

'Perhaps now your daughter may consent to marry me,' he finished by saying. 'She cannot marry a holy spirit!'

O Hanano was called, and told the story, and was very much upset that the face to whom she had given her heart was that of a spirit. 'What sin have I committed,' she cried, 'falling in love with a G.o.d?' And she rushed off to implore forgiveness at the shrine. Long and earnestly she prayed that her sin might be forgiven her. She resolved to devote the rest of her life to the temple, and as she refused to marry she obtained her father's consent. Then she applied for permission to live in the temple and become one of its caretakers. She shaved her head, wore a white linen coat and the crimson pantaloons which denote that you are no longer of the world. O Hanano remained in the temple for the rest of her life, sweeping the grounds, and praying.

The temple still stands. It is highly probable that if the stump of the cherry tree remains another tree is planted beside it, as is usual.

39. The Woodcutter Saves Choyo From Robbers.

x.x.xIV A STORY OF MOUNT KANZANREI.

FAR up on the north-eastern coast of Korea is a high mountain called Kanzanrei, and not far from its base, where lies the district of Kanko Fu, is a village called Teiheigun, trading in little but natural products such as mushrooms, timber, furs, fish, and a little gold.

In this village lived a pretty girl called Choyo, an orphan of some means. Her father, Choka, had been the only merchant in the district, and he had made quite a fortune for those parts, which he had left to Choyo when she was some sixteen summers old.

At the foot of the mountain of Kanzanrei lived a woodcutter of simple and frugal habits. He dwelt alone in a broken-down hut, a.s.sociated with but the few to whom he sold his wood, and was considered generally to be a morose and unsociable man. The 'Recluse' he was called, and many wondered who he was, and why he kept so much to himself, for he was not yet thirty years of age and was remarkable for his good looks and strong frame. Sawada s.h.i.+geoki was his name, but the people did not know it.

One evening, as the Recluse was wending his way down the rough mountain path with a large load of firewood on his back, he was resting in a particularly wild and rocky pa.s.s darkened by the huge pine trees which towered on every hand, and was startled by a rustling sound close below. He looked nervously round, for the place in which he was had the reputation of being haunted by tigers, and with some truth, for several people had lately been killed by them. On this occasion, however, the sound which had startled the Recluse was caused by no tiger, but only by a pheasant which fluttered off her nest, and was imitating the sign of a wounded bird, to draw the intruder's attention away from the direction of her nest. Strange, however, was it, thought the Recluse, that the bird should have so acted, for she could neither have seen nor heard him; and so he listened intently to find the cause. There were not many minutes to wait. Almost immediately the Recluse heard the sounds of voices and of scuffling, and, hiding himself behind the trunk of a large tree, he waited, axe in hand.

Soon he saw being carried, pushed, and dragged down the path, a girl of surpa.s.sing beauty. She was in charge of three villainous men whom the Recluse soon recognised as bandits.

As they were coming his way the Recluse retained his position, hidden behind the great pine, and grasping more firmly his axe; and as the four approached him he sprang out and blocked their way.

'Who have you here, and what are you doing with this girl?' cried he. 'Let her go, or you will have to suffer!'

Being three to one, the robbers were in no fear, and cried back, 'Stand out of our way, you fool, and let us pa.s.s--unless you wish to lose your life.' But the woodcutter was not afraid. He raised his axe, and the robbers drew their swords. The woodcutter was too much for them. In an instant he had cut down one and pushed another over the precipice, and the third took to his heels, only too glad to get away with his life.

The Recluse then bent down to attend to the girl, who had fainted. He fetched water and bathed her face, bringing her back to her senses, and as soon as she was able to speak he asked who she was, whether she was hurt, and how she had come into the hands of such ruffians.

Amid sobs and weeping the girl answered: 'I am Choyo Choka. My home is the village of Teiheigun. This is the anniversary of my father's death, and I went to pray at his tomb at the foot of Gando Mountain. The day being fine, I decided to make a long tour and come back this way. About an hour ago I was seized by these robbers; and the rest you know. Oh, sir, I am thankful to you for your bravery in saving me. Please tell me your name.'

The woodcutter answered: 'Ah, then, you are the famous beauty of Teiheigun village, of whom I have so often heard! It is an honour indeed to me that I have been able to help you. As for me, I am a woodcutter. The "Recluse" they call me, and I live at the foot of this mountain. If you will come with me I will take you to my hut, where you can rest; and then I will see you safely to your home.'

Choyo was very grateful to the woodcutter, who shouldered his stack of wood, and, taking her by the hand, led her down the steep and dangerous path. At his hut they rested, and he made her tea; then took her to the outskirts of her village, where, bowing to her in a manner far above that of the ordinary peasant, he left her.

That night Choyo could think of nothing but the brave and handsome woodcutter who had saved her life; so much, indeed, did she think that before the morn had dawned she felt herself in love, deeply and desperately.

The day pa.s.sed and night came. Choyo had told all her friends of how she had been saved and by whom. The more she talked the more she thought of the woodcutter, until at last she made up her mind that she must go and see him, for she knew that he would not come to see her. 'I have the excuse of going to thank him,' she thought; 'and, besides, I will take him a present of some delicacies and fish.'