"Very well," said her husband; "to-night I shall hide, and watch for
them. Do not be frightened."
So that night the warrior hid himself in a closet in the sleeping-room,
and kept watch through a chink between the sliding doors.
He waited and watched until the "hour of the ox." Then, all at once, the
little men came up through the mats, and began their dance and their
song:
"Chin-chin Kobakama,
Yomo fuké s[=o]ro...."
They looked so queer, and danced in such a funny way, that the warrior
could scarcely keep from laughing. But he saw his young wife's
frightened face; and then, remembering that nearly all Japanese ghosts
and goblins are afraid of a sword, he drew his blade and rushed out of
the closet, and struck at the little dancers. Immediately they all
turned into--what do you think?
_Toothpicks!_
There were no more little warriors--only a lot of old toothpicks
scattered over the mats.
The young wife had been too lazy to put her toothpicks away properly;
and every day, after having used a new toothpick, she would stick it
down between the mats on the floor, to get rid of it. So the little
fairies who take care of the floor-mats became angry with her, and
tormented her.
Her husband scolded her, and she was so ashamed that she did not know
what to do. A servant was called, and the toothpicks were taken away and
burned, and after that the little men never came back again.