Yankee Boys in Japan; Or, The Young Merchants of Yokohama

CHAPTER XXXII. THE FLASHING OF THE SWORDS.

The spot seemed wild and desolate, there being no evidence of cultivation or of human habitation. On one side extended numerous deep ravines, which gave an air of solemnity to the scene. The narrow, seldom-used path turned sharply to the left in a direction away from their destination.

A halt was called upon a natural platform overgrown with brambles. Sumo, who had some knowledge of woodcraft, leaped from his horse and examined the brush.

"They have passed here, masters," he announced. "I find little threads hanging to the thorns; and the grass is trampled in places."

"We must proceed with caution," said Mori, restraining Nattie, who had already started. "Remember, Ralph has a number of men with him, and he is liable to ambuscade us."

"I will go on ahead," volunteered the giant porter, swinging his massive sword vindictively. "You follow slowly. If I see anything I will make the sound of a wild crow."

"Don't lose any time in your scouting," said Nattie, impatiently. "Confound them, they'll get away from us yet."

Leaving his horse in charge of one of the coolies, Sumo slipped through the brush and disappeared down one of the ravines. After looking to their weapons, the rest silently followed. They had barely traveled a hundred yards when the harsh cry of a wild crow came to their ears; then before the echoes had died away, the fierce clashing of steel thrilled the air.

"He has been attacked," shouted Nattie, putting his horse to the bushes. "Quick, we have them now!"

With the rest at his back, he dashed down a gentle slope into the head of the ravine. Passing a large clump of trees they came upon a most thrilling scene. Two hundred yards from the hill the valley narrowed to a space not wider than a city sidewalk.

The "gut" was formed by a huge mass of earth, which had fallen from the heights overhead. The bottom was evidently the dry bed of a mountain stream, and innumerable bowlders and jagged pieces of flint were scattered here and there, rendering walking difficult.

The scenery was an afterthought. That which instantly attracted the attention of Nattie and Mori was the figure of a native almost as large as Sumo standing at the beginning of the narrow passage. The fellow was armed with a sword, which he shook vindictively at the party.

Several feet away stood the giant porter, calmly whetting the huge weapon given him by Mori. Farther up the ravine stood the Irishman, Patrick Cronin. The man grinned impudently on seeing the newcomers, then he turned and disappeared behind a mass of underbrush.

"After him!' shouted Nattie, riding headlong into the valley.

"Hold!"

The abrupt warning came from Sumo. He had strode in the way with one hand raised.

"What do you mean?" demanded Mori. And as he spoke he leveled his revolver at the challenging figure standing in the middle of the "gut."

"Don't shoot him, excellency," exclaimed Sumo, imploringly. "That is Raiko, the thug. I knew him in Yokohama. He did me an injury once. Now, I claim satisfaction."

"What nonsense is this?" shouted Nattie. "Would you delay us, man?"

"It will not take long," replied Sumo, with a scowl directed toward Raiko. "I'll promise you his head in the song of a stork. See! I commence."

He sprang forward, and with great agility threw himself upon Raiko. The latter uttered a shrill cry, seemingly of exultation and defiance, and in the twinkling of an eye the ancient enemies were engaged in what evidently promised to be mortal combat.

Human nature is not proof against the thrill and excitement of war. Much as we deplore fighting, there is something in the clash of arms that fascinates us. From the glorious spectacle of marshaled armies to the duel between individuals, there is a charm not to be resisted by mankind of any degree.

Nattie and Mori were not different in that respect from other lads. They were both truthful, honest, manly boys, with a just knowledge of right and wrong, but deep down in their hearts was a little of the old leaven with which we are still afflicted more or less.

For the moment they forgot their quest and watched the fight with eager eyes. The two combatants were equally matched. If anything, Sumo was slightly taller, but Raiko made up for the discrepancy in a greater breadth of shoulders.

Both were armed with the heavy two-edged sword formerly used by the ancient daimios, and they were fairly skilled in the practice. Raiko had the advantage in position. Where he had taken his stand was a spot elevated a foot or more above the rest of the ravine. Sumo, however, had greater room in which to swing his weapon, and in case of pressure he had the ravine at his back.

At the first onslaught the play was furious, and the rocks rang with the clash of steel. Cut, slash, went the swords. Backward and forward sprang the antagonists. Now to the right, now to the left, dodging, leaping, advancing, and retreating.

In the midst of it all came the hissing murmur of strained voices. Tongues were going as well as arms—words keen with venom; phrases sharpened with hate played their part in the fierce duel.

Presently the fury of the combat had slackened. Nature was calling a halt. Of the two, Raiko had suffered the most. He was bleeding in a dozen places. But Sumo had not entirely escaped. A broad, raw wound on his right thigh showed where his antagonist's sword had tasted blood.

Like two bucks weary with strife, the twain backed away from one another and, leaning upon their weapons, glared with unabated hatred. The respite was momentary. Ere Nattie and Mori could speak they were at it again.

"Dog! Robber of the lame!" shouted Sumo, aiming a shrewd blow at his enemy. "Your career is ended. Now for a taste of revenge. Remember the night at the matsura? Remember the cowardly thrust thou gavest my brother?"

"Yes; and I have one such for thee, worm!" retorted Raiko. "Thou bulk of nothingness, I'll send thee to the offal heap to-day, and—ugh! ugh!"

With a harsh cry, almost inhuman in its intensity, he fell against the side of the ravine, sent there by a terrible downward blow from Sumo's triumphant sword. Leaping upon his prostrate enemy, the giant porter gave a sweep of the weapon, then he stood erect with Raiko's gory head in his grasp!

CHAPTER XXXIII. "GRANT! BROTHER, IS IT YOU?"

The scene was tragic. A ray from the afternoon sun glinted down through a rift in the foliage, bringing out in bold relief the warrior figure of the giant. Thus he stood for a moment, evidently tasting his triumph to the full, then, with a contemptuous laugh, he tossed the head of his fallen foe upon the prostrate trunk.

"Send me to the offal heap, thou braggart?" he exclaimed. "Where art thou now, Raiko? It was a lie to be answered with the rest of thy sins at the foot of the throne of Buddha. Poof! that was an easy fight. Now I try conclusions with the fiery-bearded foreigner."

Turning, he sped up the ravine and vanished from sight, leaving Nattie and Mori eying one another in astonishment.

"What a bloodthirsty wretch it is!" said the latter.

"Civilization is merely skin deep in some," dryly replied his companion. "This is a sorry spectacle even in the interior of your country. Don't you think we should feel ashamed?"

"I don't know but that you are right," was the naïve reply. "But, confound it all, Nattie, Sumo had great provocation, and, remember, he fought in our interests."

"Then we will forgive him. I'll harbor a little contempt for myself for some time, though. Let somebody bury the body, or take it to the nearest village. Come; we have lost too much time as it is."

"Sumo is as rash as he is brave," remarked Mori, as he rode along at his friend's side. "If he don't watch out, Patrick will nab him."

While trotting across a rocky shelf, Nattie chanced to look up toward the cone of the nearby volcano. To his surprise, he saw that the vapory mist had given way to a dense volume of pitch-black smoke. Little tongues of flame shot athwart the column at intervals, and hovering over the summit was a cloud of ashes glinting dully in the sun.

"That looks threatening," he exclaimed, calling Mori's attention to it.

"By Jove, Bandai-San is in eruption," was the instant reply. "It is the first time in my memory, too." Then he added, gravely: "Nattie, this comes at a bad time." "Why?"

"If there should be a flow of lava—which is highly probable—our stay in this neighborhood will be dangerous."

"Does it ever reach this far?"

"No; but we must pass near the base of the mountain on our way to the caves."

"And the other party?"

"They will be placed in peril also."

"Then we must catch them before they reach there," exclaimed Nattie, urging his horse forward. "I don't care a snap for Ralph or his crew, but Grant——"

"Sh-h-h! Some one is coming down the ravine."

A dull noise, like the scrambling of naked feet over the gravel and rocky soil of the dry river bed, came to their ears. It increased until at last it became evident that a considerable body of men were approaching.

"Quick! out of the way!" exclaimed Nattie, turning sharply to the right.

Reining in his steed behind an overhanging mass of earth, he drew his revolver and waited in silence.

Mori soon joined him. They had barely concealed themselves when a score of half-naked natives dashed past, uttering cries of alarm as they ran.

They were apparently wild with terror. The cause was speedily explained. While hurrying down the ravine more than one would pause and cast fearful glances toward the smoking crater of old Bandai-San. The impending eruption was the secret of their flight.

"It is the body of villagers taken away by Ralph," said Mori. "Their terror of the volcano has proved stronger than their fear of the foreigners. Good! I am glad they have abandoned him. Now he won't have such an overwhelming force."

"Did you notice whether the two other coolies were with them? I mean those who were with Ralph at the castle?"

"I think I did see one. Humph! you can rest assured that very few natives will remain in the neighborhood when a volcano is spouting fire. I even wonder that Sumo——"

As if the name carried the magic power of conjuring, it was barely uttered when the bushes on the left slope of the ravine parted and the giant porter strode into view.

"Hail, masters," he said, stopping and wiping his perspiring face.

"Where have you been? What have you seen?" asked Nattie and Mori, in a breath.

"I was in chase of the devil with the red beard."

"Did you see him?"

Sumo laughed grimly.

"Yes, as the hunter sees the hawk in its flight," he replied. "Red-beard is swift in his pace when danger threatens."

"Did you see the others?" eagerly asked Nattie.

"No, but I followed them close to the mud caves. Poof! they are fools. Know they not that the demon of the mountain, old 'Jishin' himself, lives there? And now is his hunting time. See! Bandai-San is angry. He sends forth fire and smoke. Presently the river that runs molten red will flow down the mountainside."

"Are you afraid?" rather contemptuously asked Nattie.

"Not of mortal, master; but it is no shame to bow to the wrath of the gods. Whither go you?"

"In search of my brother," was the terse reply, and the lad set spurs to his horse.

"You shall not go alone," spoke up Mori, riding after him.

Sumo glanced after their retreating forms, then he cast his eyes upward to where the smoke over the crater was assuming a ruddy tinge. It was enough. Tossing up his arms, he started off at a long trot and vanished over the bit of tableland at the head of the ravine. His superstitious fears had proved the victor.

"Mori, you are a friend indeed," said Nattie, when the young Japanese rejoined him. "But I cannot permit you to run unnecessary risks for our sake. Return while you have the chance."

"Not much," was the hearty reply. "Where you go I go. You insult me. Do you think I would leave you and Grant in the lurch? Not if ten thousand volcanoes were to erupt. Tut! tut! that will do. Not another word."

"I will say this, old fellow," gratefully. "You will never regret your actions on this trip. We will find some way to repay you."

On up the valley rode the two friends, side by side. Presently a place was reached where it became necessary to leave the horses and continue on foot. Shortly after they had dismounted there came a deep rumbling noise and the earth trembled beneath their feet.

Pale but resolute, they strode along. There was a smell of sulphur in the air; the leaves of the scrubby trees were coated with impalpable gray ashes, and a sifting cloud of powdery fragments fell upon them.

Suddenly, while passing around an abrupt bend in the ravine, they saw ahead of them the figure of a youth limping in their direction. Nattie gave the newcomer one startled glance, then he rushed forward, crying:

"Grant! Brother, is it you?"

CHAPTER XXXIV. THE MYSTERIOUS FORCES OF NATURE.

It was Grant. Hobbling along as fast as his crippled limbs could carry him, he threw himself into his brother's arms, and for a moment they forgot all else in the emotion of their greeting. Then Mori came in for his well-earned share.

The amount of handshaking and incoherent expressions that followed was wonderful. Mutual explanations were demanded and given with hearty good will. The lame youth told briefly his experiences on board the junk, then he added:

"After we left that dreadful tunnel running from the castle I almost gave up hope. I felt instinctively that you were underground when that first earthquake shock came, and I was awfully worried."

"We escaped, as you can see," said Nattie, with a happy grin.

"If not you are pretty lively ghosts," said Grant, in the same vein; then he continued: "That brute Ralph hurried us along the mountain for a while. Then we stopped at a village and compelled some of the poor natives to accompany us. I tell you, Ralph Black must be crazy. None but a lunatic would hope to escape from the law for such an outrage. Fancy him thinking he could take me to a cave in the mountain and keep off the lawful forces of the country."

"It is past belief," remarked Mori. "But tell us, how did you manage to escape?"

"I am coming to that. But hadn't we better leave this neighborhood? Ralph and Patrick are liable to follow me at any moment."

"Where is Willis Round?" quickly asked Nattie, noting the omission of the bookkeeper's name.

Grant smiled.

"We needn't fear anything from him," he said.

"Is he dead?"

"No; he helped me to escape."

"What!"

"It is a fact. Wait; I'll tell you. After we arrived in the vicinity of the caves—which are dreadful places, by the way—Round slipped up to me and began to talk about matters in general. Before he had said many words I saw his object. He was trying to 'hedge,' as they call it in racing parlance."

"To crawl out of the scrape, eh?"

"Yes; I led him on, and he presently asked me point-blank if I would promise to save him from punishment if he should help me to escape. I replied that I would do what I could for him, but I would promise nothing. He was content with that, and after a while he succeeded in cutting the thongs binding my hands.

"Shortly after, while we were hurrying through a dense copse I slipped behind and ran as fast as I could on the back trail. It was a risky piece of business, as Ralph had threatened to shoot me if I made another attempt to escape."

"And the villain would do it, too," said Nattie.

"I believe he would. The boy is crazy—clean stark crazy. None but a lunatic would do as he has done."

"They must see their mistake now," remarked Mori, grimly.

"They do. Willis Round is nearly frightened to death. Patrick still remains obstinate and advises a general slaughter of all, but I think he is weakening. The natives they took from the village deserted on account of the threatening eruption of the volcano."

All three glanced up to the summit of Bandai-San. The smoke and flame had increased in volume. It was a terrifying sight and instinctively the little party moved toward the head of the ravine.

They had walked only a short distance when a tremor shook the earth, sending a mass of dirt and rocks tumbling down the side of the valley. Then, in the twinkling of an eye, a thick cloud of ashes was showered upon them.

Now thoroughly frightened, the boys set out at a run, Nattie and Mori assisting the crippled youth, one on each side. Suddenly a dull shock, like the explosion of a mine, almost knocked them prostrate, and directly in front they saw the earth fly from a conical hole in the side of the ravine with the impetus of a hundred-ton gun.

When the dust and débris settled, they beheld a small crater, probably fifteen feet in width, occupying a spot a dozen yards above the dry bed of the stream. It was only a small affair as craters go, but the mysterious operation of the natural volcanic forces sent a thrill through the lads, and they scrambled to their feet with but one intent, and that was to leave the place as quickly as possible.

"Come!" hoarsely exclaimed Mori, turning a face pallid with dread to his companions. "We haven't a moment to lose. If an eruption should occur and the lava flow down this side of the mountain nothing could save us from a horrible death."

"Is it as bad as that?" gasped Nattie, glancing fearfully toward the volcano.

The answer came not in words. Suddenly, and with terrific force a thunderous report rent the air. Darkness darker than midnight fell upon the scene as if a pall had descended upon them from the heavens. A blinding shower of hot ashes and sand rained in torrents, then—then while the three lads groveled with their faces in the dust the earth rocked and rocked, and rocked again.

Presently—was it a moment or an eternity?—a strange hissing noise became apparent. Multiply the escaping steam from an overcharged boiler ten thousand times and you would only have a faint idea of the terrible noise that filled the air to the exclusion of all other sounds.

For the space of many seconds the earth continued to undulate like the surface of the sea. Explosion after explosion came in rapid succession, each seeming greater than its predecessor, until at last one came that shook the earth to its foundations.

To the three lads prone in the little ravine it was as if the end of the world had come. They lost all thought of time or place. They remained bowed down before the majestic forces of nature, incapable of moving, or speaking, or even thinking.

In time the dread convulsions ceased. Ill with a nausea like that of the sea, Grant and Nattie and Mori finally scrambled to their feet and attempted to run. It was a futile effort. Their trembling limbs refused to carry them, and they sank back once more.

Let not the reader think it cowardice. No more brave and sturdy youths than Nattie and Mori could be found in all Japan. And Grant—if feeble in frame and prone to disease physically, his soul was absolutely fearless in the common happenings of life.

Only those who have experienced the awful feeling incidental to one of those terrible convulsions of nature called earthquakes can testify as to its effect on the human mind. It is the most mysterious, and the most dreadful force known to man. The writer speaks from experience, having narrowly escaped with his life from one encountered while on a journey through a Central American republic.

It came without warning, and in its duration of not more than eight seconds—think of it!—leveled hundreds of houses and claimed a score of human lives. Its immediate effect was as if the earth was slipping away and one's grasp lost on all things mundane.

CHAPTER XXXV. RETRIBUTION!

It was some time before the boys could again regain their feet. As the minutes slipped past without a recurrence of the shocks their courage and self-confidence returned. They did not stop to discuss the matter, but promptly obeyed their first instinct, which was to leave the accursed spot without delay.

They had barely started down the ravine with tottering limbs when Nattie, who was in the rear heard a hoarse cry behind him. It was not human. It was harsh and gurgling, like the scream of a wild fowl in the clutches of a giant eagle.

The lad paused and glanced back, then he cried out in horror. His companions instantly turned and looked in the direction indicated by his outstretched hand. Approaching them at a staggering walk was the almost unrecognizable figure of a tall, thin man.

His clothing hung in charred tatters from a frame that seemed bent and distorted, evidently from some great calamity; the hat was gone, the hair burned away, and caking the lower limbs as high as the knees was a mass of grayish, slimy mud.

As he advanced in a series of tremulous lurches he stretched forth his hands in piteous supplication. Presently he fell to the ground and lay there writhing like a wounded animal. The boys ran to his side. They gave him one glance, then recoiled in horrified amazement.

"Heavens above!" cried Grant; "it is Willis Round!"

The poor wretch at their feet twisted around and revealed a scarred, marked face with sightless eyes. After great effort, he whispered, hoarsely:

"Water! water! Give me water!"

Luckily, Nattie carried a canteen-shaped bottle of the precious fluid. Bending over, he placed it to the sufferer's lips. With what joy and relief did he drink! The draught placed new life in him. He presently gasped:

"Who is—is here? Is it Grant—Grant Manning?"

"Yes, it is I," quickly replied the lame youth. "Can I do anything for you? Ha! why do I ask such a question? Quick, Nattie, Mori; we must take him to the nearest town. He needs medical attendance at once."

"It is too late," groaned Round. "I am a dead man. The end of the world is at hand, and I am caught in sin. The others——"

"What of them?" asked Grant, eagerly.

"They are gone."

"Dead?"

"Yes; the volcano was shattered by the eruption, the liquid mud and earth—ugh!—rolled down to the caves. I saw it in time and almost succeeded in—in escaping. But Ralph and Patrick were buried under thousands—ugh!—of tons of molten earth."

For the first time since the convulsion the boys glanced up at the peak of Bandai-San. To their awe they saw that its shape had been totally changed. Instead of the graceful cone with its dimple of a crater, it now seemed shorn of half its height. The summit was simply a jagged edge of cliff-like reaches.

[1]In plain view to the left was a peculiar river, almost black in color, and evidently rolling down the steep slope of the mountainside like the waters of a cascade. Dense clouds of steam hovered over it, and plainly apparent in the air were strange, weird sounds impossible to describe.

The grewsome sight brought back the first feeling of terror, and for a moment the lads eyed one another in doubt. The desire to flee soon passed away, however, and they again turned their attention to the prostrate wretch.

A change was coming over him. It needed no medical skill to tell that the man was dying. Nattie gave him more water, and others made a couch of their coats, but that was all. Willis Round was beyond mortal aid. In the course of half an hour he gave a gasp, half arose upon his elbow and then fell back lifeless.

He was buried where he had died. Scooping a shallow grave in the soft earth he was placed tenderly within and left to his last rest. As they hurried away from the spot a strange silence fell upon Grant and his companions.

One brief hour before they had been eager in their denunciations of Ralph Black and his fellow conspirators. Now all that was changed. An awful fate had overtaken them in the very midst of their sins. In the presence of the dread retribution all animosity was forgotten. Their death was from the awful hand of Nature, and their tomb under thousands of tons of Mother Earth!

With all possible speed the boys left the eventful ravine. The horses tethered near the spot of tableland had disappeared, evidently stampeded by the convulsions. In due time the village from which Ralph had taken his reinforcements was reached. It was entirely deserted.

At a small town beyond the castle of Yamagata, reached late in the afternoon, Sumo was found with other natives more brave than their fellows. The giant porter became wild with delight and ran forth to meet the tired wayfarers.

"Welcome! thrice welcome!" he shouted, bowing his huge bulk almost to the ground. "And thou escaped from old 'Jishin' after all? Glad am I, excellencies; glad am I! But where are the fugitives? And where is the foreigner, old Red-Beard?"

"They are dead," gravely replied Mori. "They were killed by the eruption. Get us meat and drink at once, coward. I am minded to punish you for your desertion, dog."

Sumo shrugged his shoulders philosophically.

"As thou will, little master," he replied. "Punish if it be in thy heart. I would have fought for thee if mortal enemies threatened, but what is my puny arm to that of the underground demon?"

"I do not blame you for running away, Sumo," spoke up Nattie, with an involuntary shudder. "It was an awful experience, and one I have no desire to meet again."

"Amen!" fervently exclaimed Grant.

That afternoon and night the boys rested. At daybreak on the following day they started for the nearest railway station, in jinrikishas. As reports came in from the country nearest to the other slope of Bandai-San the terrible nature of the calamity became apparent.

Whole towns had been swept away by the dreadful sea of molten mud thrown from the crater. Thousands had been injured, and a thousand lost. Many miles of land had been ruined. The destruction was almost irreparable.

At Tokio the boys purchased new outfits. They remained a few hours in the capital, and then left for Yokohama. At Nattie's personal request, Sumo had accompanied them. It was the lad's intention to install the giant as a factotum of the firm in the counting-room. It was late in the morning when they steamed into the railway station. As they left the train, Mori turned to Grant with a cry of dismay.

"By Jove! do you know what day this is?" he asked, excitedly.

"No—that is—it's——"

"The first of August, and the bids for those army contracts are to be opened at noon!"

CHAPTER XXXVI. CONCLUSION.

"The army contracts!" echoed Grant. "Why, bless my soul, you are right! This is the day set by the war department for opening them."

All three lads instinctively glanced at the station clock.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Nattie; "it's after eleven!"

"In less than an hour the board will sit, and at Tokio—twenty miles away!" Mori cried. "We have lost the chance after all."

"Not without a struggle," firmly replied the lame youth. "There's Mr. Burr over there. He is here to meet us. Nattie, take him to the nearest stationer, and purchase three or four quires of official paper, pen and ink. Be back in five minutes. Mori, come with me."

While Nattie, too bewildered to speak, hurried away on his errand, Grant grasped the Japanese youth's arm, and almost ran to the station master's office. They found the official seated at his desk.

"What time does the next train leave for the capital?" asked Grant.

"At eleven-thirty, sir."

"Too late. How long will it take you to start a special train?"

The railway employee stared at his questioner in surprise.

"A special train for Tokio?" he asked.

"Yes."

"We couldn't have it ready under twenty minutes. Why, what——"

"Never mind the reason, sir," interrupted Grant, impatiently. "I must be in Tokio before twelve o'clock."

"It is impossible, sir."

"Not at all. It must be done. Where is the engine that brought the train in a few moments ago?"

"It is still in the station, but it will go to the running sheds before long."

"I must have that engine," exclaimed Grant, with determination. "I will pay you five hundred yen for an hour's use of it. I will also give a bonus of fifty yen each to the engineer and fireman."

Five minutes later a powerful locomotive left the station, bearing the party. A small table had been secured, and hard at work upon it was Mr. Burr, writing for dear life as Grant dictated.

The line was clear, telegraphic orders having been sent to that effect from Yokohama, and the intricate mass of iron flew upon its journey at the rate of seventy miles an hour.

It was a strange spectacle, and one never before witnessed in all Japan. To the engineer and fireman, native born, it was a novelty indeed, and they cast many curious glances at the group upon the tender.

As the miles were covered at terrific speed, the ponderous engine swayed and rocked like a ship in distress. But amid the lurching and tossing of the fabric, Grant stood imperturbably droning word after word, sentence upon sentence, while the canny Scot jotted them down as best he could.

The document was a lengthy one, full of circumlocution and dreary phrases, but at the end of twelve minutes, when the outskirts of Tokio came in sight, it was finished. The three members of the firm affixed their names just as the panting engine came to a sudden stop in the railway station of the capital.

Jinrikishas with fleet karumayas had been ordered by telegraph. The distance to the war department was at least a mile. Springing into the vehicles, the party were carried swiftly through the streets, a promise of ten times the usual fare having lent wings to the men's feet.

A clock observed midway indicated a quarter of twelve.

"On, on, men!" cried Grant, imploringly. "Fifty yen each if you do it before the stroke of twelve."

The promise was as a whip to a spirited horse. From lagging steps the karumayas bounded into a run. Down the narrow streets they darted, past gardens, through thoroughfares crowded with pedestrians; on, on, until at last, with a final spurt, the four jinrikishas came to a halt in front of the Japanese war office.

Leaving Mr. Burr to settle with the coolies—who had well earned their pay—Grant dashed into the building just as the first stroke of a sonorous bell overhead proclaimed the hour of noon.

As he passed through the entrance he noticed a door at the right bearing upon its panels in Japanese, "War Department. Office of the Army Board." It was standing slightly ajar, and from the interior came a confused murmur of voices.

Something prompted Grant and his companions to stop and peer through. Seated at a large desk were several officers in uniform and other gentlemen in civilian's clothes. In the center was Yoshisada Udono, Grant's friend. Occupying chairs in the main portion of the room were the German merchants of Yokohama, Swartz and Bauer, and Ralph's father, Jesse Black.

The warning bell had reached the seventh stroke!

Arising to his feet with a triumphant smile upon his lean, suave face, the English merchant advanced to the desk and laid thereon a packet. As he turned to resume his seat there was a noise at the door, and the lame youth marched in with calm dignity.

"Ah, I see I am just in time," he said, with a pleasant smile. "Mr. Udono, will you please accept our bid for the contracts?"

"Certainly, Grant, with the greatest pleasure," quickly replied the secretary. "Where have you been? I actually thought you would be——"

He was interrupted by a snarl of mingled stupefaction and rage. Mr. Black, who had been staring open mouthed at the lads, sprang forward, and shouted:

"It is too late! It is past the time. The hour of twelve——"

"Has not struck yet," quietly interrupted Grant. "Listen! ten, eleven, twelve! I was three seconds to the good."

If ever baffled fury sat enthroned on a man's countenance it did then upon that of the English merchant. He was speechless with anger and disappointment. Shaking his fist in Grant's face, he stammered and choked in a futile effort to berate him.

"Mr. Black, a word with you," suddenly said Nattie, stepping up.

The lad's tone was full of meaning. He turned and added to his brother and Mori:

"Let us leave for some quiet place and have it over with. You know we have a sad duty to perform."

"What, what's that?" asked the merchant, in alarm, recovering his speech. "My son Ralph! What of him? Don't tell me he is injured."

"Come with us," replied Grant, evasively.

Leaving Mori to make a brief explanation to Mr. Udono, Nattie and he took the Englishman into a side room and there told the story of his son's awful end.

It is a strange commentary on human nature that even the vilest beast contains a well of tenderness. The hand that slays in cruel sport can also caress with fond affection. The African mother has her maternal love; the foulest rogue a word of kindness.

Mr. Black was an unscrupulous man. He was a scoundrel at heart, but there was an oasis in the desert of his immoral nature. It was his love for his son Ralph. The news of his offspring's death came as a terrible blow. His grief was pitiful.

The spectacle of a strong man weeping in agony of spirit swept away all thoughts of punishment. Grant exchanged glances with his brother, and then said, sadly, but with firmness:

"Mr. Black, we know everything. We know fully your connection with the foul plot to abduct me, but we are content with our triumph over you. We could have you arrested and sent to prison for a term of years, but we will be merciful. You can go forth in freedom, but on certain conditions."

The miserable man stood listening with bowed head.

"You must leave Japan at once," continued Grant, "and also make restitution of the money overpaid to you on account of our father's debt. That debt was paid to you before his death, and you know it."

"No, Grant, your father did not pay me," replied Mr. Black, brokenly.

"Then you still deny it!" exclaimed the lame youth, his voice growing hard.

"I will explain. I received part of the money, but not from your father. The day Mr. Manning died in his office I received a call from Willis Round. He said that he had taken the fifty-six hundred dollars in gold from the safe, and would divide with me if I would promise to back him up in pushing the firm to the wall. It was his idea to purchase the good will of the business at a forced sale and start in for himself. I—I consented, but our plans have failed."

"Through no fault of yours," said Nattie, sotto voce.

"Do you agree to the conditions?" asked Grant.

"Yes, I will do as you say," replied the disgraced merchant. "I will repay you and leave this country at once. I am content to do so. Oh, Ralph, my son, my son!"

He tottered from the room, and that was the last the lads saw of him. On the following day a messenger brought to them in their office at Yokohama a package of money containing the amount previously paid to Mr. Black.

Before the end of the week he had settled up his affairs and left Japan. It was heard later that he had returned to England, where he went into retirement with the money saved from his business. It is to be hoped he sought repentance for his misdeeds.

In these o'er-true tales it is a pleasure to part with some characters, but painful to bid farewell to others. A writer has his likes and dislikes, even in his own literature. It is said that the immortal Dickens cried when he penned the description of Little Nell's death in the "Old Curiosity Shop," and that his heart stirred with a curious anger as he chronicled the villainies of Bill Sykes in another story.

It is probably for a similar reason that I do not like to write the words that will put an end for all time to Grant and Nattie and Mori. We have spent many pleasant half hours together. It has been a pleasure to depict their honesty, and manliness, and truth, to watch their brave struggle against misfortune, and at last to record their final triumph.

They will succeed in life—integrity and moral worth always do. They secured the famous contract, and made a legitimate profit from it. That was before the recent war between China and Japan. They invested their increased capital, and are now, at the present date, on the fair road to fortune.

Mr. Burr is the manager of their Yokohama house. Mori is in general charge of the business in Japan, and Grant and Nattie are now traveling in the United States visiting their relatives and quietly keeping an eye out for the trade.

Sumo is established in the main office as porter and messenger. He sports a gorgeous uniform and is ever relating to the small boys of the neighborhood his memorable fight with Raiko, the thug, at the foot of old Bandai-San.

And now, in the language of those gentle people, the Japanese, I will say "Sayonara!"

THE END.

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