Overjoyed at having found so rich a prize, Gompachi was making off for the Yoshiwara, when Seibei, who, horror-stricken, had seen both murders, came up and began to upbraid him for his wickedness.  But Gompachi was so smooth-spoken and so well liked by his comrades, that he easily persuaded Seibei to hush the matter up, and accompany him to the Yoshiwara for a little diversion.  As they were talking by the way, Seibei said to Gompachi—­

“I bought a new dirk the other day, but I have not had an opportunity to try it yet.  You have had so much experience in swords that you ought to be a good judge.  Pray look at this dirk, and tell me whether you think it good for anything.”

“We’ll soon see what sort of metal it is made of,” answered Gompachi.  “We’ll just try it on the first beggar we come across.”

At first Seibei was horrified by this cruel proposal, but by degrees he yielded to his companion’s persuasions; and so they went on their way until Seibei spied out a crippled beggar lying asleep on the bank outside the Yoshiwara.  The sound of their footsteps aroused the beggar, who seeing a Samurai and a wardsman pointing at him, and evidently speaking about him, thought that their consultation could bode him no good.  So he pretended to be still asleep, watching them carefully all the while; and when Seibei went up to him, brandishing his dirk, the beggar, avoiding the blow, seized Seibei’s arm, and twisting it round, flung him into the ditch below.  Gompachi, seeing his companion’s discomfiture, attacked the beggar, who, drawing a sword from his staff, made such lightning-swift passes that, crippled though he was, and unable to move his legs freely, Gompachi could not overpower him; and although Seibei crawled out of the ditch and came to his assistance, the beggar, nothing daunted, dealt his blows about him to such good purpose that he wounded Seibei in the temple and arm.  Then Gompachi, reflecting that after all he had no quarrel with the beggar, and that he had better attend to Seibei’s wounds than go on fighting to no purpose, drew Seibei away, leaving the beggar, who was too lame to follow them, in peace.  When he examined Seibei’s wounds, he found that they were so severe that they must give up their night’s frolic and go home.  So they went back to the house of Chobei, the Father of the Otokodate, and Seibei, afraid to show himself with his sword-cuts, feigned sickness, and went to bed.  On the following morning Chobei, happening to need his apprentice Seibei’s services, sent for him, and was told that he was sick; so he went to the room, where he lay abed, and, to his astonishment, saw the cut upon his temple.  At first the wounded man refused to answer any questions as to how he had been hurt; but at last, on being pressed by Chobei, he told the whole story of what had taken place the night before.  When Chobei heard the tale, be guessed that the valiant beggar must be some noble Samurai in disguise, who, having