of their Augustnesses in all, standing pedestaled respectively on precipitous points of the conventional tri-peaked mount in conventionally inapt attitudes. They all wore the comfortable cast of countenance and generally immaculate get-up quite incompatible with ever getting up a mountain. This, of course, proved their divinity. The great god of Ontaké towered commandingly on the highest peak, flanked by two lesser Shintō divinities perched on somewhat lower pinnacles. Below these stood Fudō-sama—a conglomerate god from nobody knows exactly where, popularly worshiped as the god of fire, which it is certain he was not, but possessing, however, for some inscrutable cause a certain lien on the land. He, too, was flanked by two companions on suitable inferior vantage points. These peopled the mid-heaven of ascent. Still lower down came three canonized saints of Ryōbu, the men who had opened the mountain by first succeeding in getting to the top; for which feat they were now rewarded by being placed humbly at the bottom. The relative positions of the three classes of gods is worth notice, for such is their invariable ranking
