rayer?"

"He is called," said Ando, "by the name of 'Tatsu.' 'Tatsu, the Dragon
Painter.'"

II

The sounds and sights of the great capital were dear to Ando Uchida.
In five years of busy exile among remote mountains he felt that he had
earned, as it were, indulgence for an interval of leisurely enjoyment.

His initial visit to old Kano had been made not so much to renew an
illustrious acquaintance, as to relieve his own mind of its exciting
news, and his hands of a parcel which, at every stage of the journey,
had been an incubus. Ando knew the paintings to be unusual. He had
hoped for and received from Kano the highest confirmation of this
belief.

At that time, now a week ago, he had been pleased, and Kano irradiated.
Already he was cursing himself for his pains, and crying aloud that,
had he dreamed the consequences, never had the name of Tatsu crossed
his lips! Ando's anticipated joys in Yeddo lay, as yet, before him.
Hourly was he tormented by visits from the impatient Kano. Neither
midnight nor dawn were safe from intrusion. Always the same questions
were asked, the same fears spoken, the same glorious future prophesied;
until finally, in despair, one night Ando arose between the hours of
two and three, betaking himself to a small suburban hotel. Here he
lived, for a time, in peace, under the protection of an assumed name.

A letter had been dispatched that first day, to Tatsu of Kiu Shiu, with
a sum of money for the defraying of travelling expenses, and the
petition that the youth should come as quickly as possible for a visit
to Kano Indara, since the old man could not, of himself, attempt so
long a journey. After what seemed to the impatient writer (and in
equal degree to the harassed Uchida) an endless cycle of existence, an
answer came, not, indeed from Tatsu, but from the "Mura osa," or head
of the village, saying that the Mad Painter had started at once upon
his journey, taking not even a change of clothes. By what route he
would travel or on what date arrive, only the gods could tell.

Kano's rapture in these tidings was assailed, at once, by a swarm of
black conjectures. Might the boy not lose himself by the way? If he
attempted to ride upon the hideous foreign trains he was certain to be
injured; if on the other hand, he did not come by train, weeks, even
months, might be consumed in the journey. Again, should he essay to
come by boat! Then there were dangers of wind and storm.