Darkness fell upon us while we were yet a long way from Ashikura,
with an uncertain cliff path between us and it: for the path, like a
true mountain trail, had the passion for climbing developed into a
mania, and could never rest content with the river's bed whenever it
spied a chance to rise. It had just managed an ascent up a zigzag
stairway of its own invention, and had stepped out in the dark upon a
patch of tall mountain grass, as dry as straw, when Yejiro conceived
the brilliant idea of torches. He had learned the trick in the
Hakone hills, where it was the habit, he told the guide, when caught
out at night; and he proceeded to roll some of the grass into long
wisps for the purpose. The torches were remarkably picturesque, and
did us service beside. Their ruddy flare, bowing to the breeze, but
only burning the more madly for its thwarting, lighted the path like
noonday through a circle of fifteen feet, and dropped brands, still
flaring, into the stubble, which we felt it a case of conscience to
stop and stamp out. The circle, small as it was, sufficed to
disclose a yawning gulf on the side, to which the path clung with the
persistency of infatuation.
The first thing to tell us of approach to human habitation was the
croaking of the frogs. After the wildness of our day it sounded like
some lullaby of Mother Earth, speaking of hearth and home, and we
knew that we were come back to ricefields and man. It was another
half hour, however, before our procession reached the outskirts of
the village. Here we threw aside our torches, and in a weary,
drawn-out file found our way, one by one, into the courtyard of the
inn. It was not an inn the year round; it became such only at
certain seasons, of which the present was not one. It had the habit
of putting up pilgrims on their way to the Dragon Peak; between the
times of its pious offices it relapsed into a simple farmhouse.
But the owner received us none the less kindly for our inopportune
appearance, and hasted to bring the water-tubs for our feet. Never
was I more willing to sit on the sill a moment and dabble my toes;
for I was footsore and weary, and glad to be on man's level again.
I promise you, we were all very human that evening, and felt a deal
aloud.