Jinrikisha Days in Japan
low moon that hung fantastic above O Tomi Toge’s wall.
With our commander-in-chief perched high on a pack-horse, whose chair-like saddle left his rider’s heels resting on the neck of the animal, and the kago coolies slipping and floundering through the bottomless mud of the roads, we once more started on our way. The whole country was dark, silent, and deserted, and the only audible sound was the chatter of our army of coolies, who chirped and frolicked like boys out of school. The night air over the rice-fields was warm and heavy, and seemed to suffocate us, and fire-flies drifted in and out among the rushes and bamboos. Deep, roaring streams filled the channels that had been mere silver threads of water a few days before. The coolies could barely keep their footing as they waded waist-deep in the rushing water, and at every ford we half expected to be drowned.
At the summit of the pass we dismounted, and the coolies scattered for a long rest. The sacred mountain was clear and exquisite in the pale gray of dawn; and while we watied to see the sun rise on Fuji, a dirty-brown fog scudded in from the sea, crossed the high moon, and instantly the plain faded from view and we were left, isolated Brocken figures, to eat our four-o’clock breakfast of dry bread and chocolate, and return to the kagos. Everywhere we encountered traces of a heayy storm, the path being gullied and washed into a deep ditch with high banks, whose heavy-topped, white lilies brushed into the kagos as we passed. Half asleep, we watched the green panorama unfolding as we descended, and at eight o’clock we were set down in Miyanoshita. Nesans ran hither and thither excitedly, to bring coffee and toast, to prepare baths, produce the luggage we had left behind, and mildly rehearse to the other domestics the astonishing story of our adventures. By noon, when
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