The samurai conferred together for a moment, then one of them called out that they did not believe her, that Oda Iseka, son of Oda Yorimoto, was safe in the village.

“Wait!” replied the girl.  “We will show him to you,” and turning to Byrne she asked him to fetch the youth.

When the white man returned with the boy in his arms, a wail of mingled anguish and rage rose from the natives.

“If you molest us no further we shall not harm him,” cried Barbara, “and when we leave your island we shall set him free; but renew your attack upon us and this white man who holds him says that he will cut out his heart and feed it to the fox,” which was rather a bloodthirsty statement for so gentle a character as Barbara Harding; but she knew enough of the superstitious fears of the ancient Japanese to feel confident that this threat would have considerable weight with the subjects of the young Lord of Yoka.

Again the natives conferred in whispers.  Finally he who had acted as spokesman before turned toward the strangers.

“We shall not harm you,” he said, “so long as you do not harm Oda Iseka; but we shall watch you always until you leave the island, and if harm befalls him then shall you never leave, for we shall kill you all.”

Barbara translated the man’s words to the mucker.

“Do youse fall fer dat?” he asked.

“I think they will be careful to make no open assault upon us,” replied the girl; “but never for an instant must we cease our watchfulness for at the first opportunity I am sure that they will murder us.”

They turned back to Theriere now.  The man still lay, unconscious and moaning, where Byrne had deposited him.  The mucker removed the gag from Oda Iseka’s mouth.

“Which way is water?  Ask him,” he said to Barbara.

The girl put the question.

“He says that straight up this ravine behind us there is a little spring,” translated the girl.

Byrne lifted Theriere in his arms, after loosening Oda Iseka’s feet and tethering him to his own belt with the same grass rope; then he motioned the youth up the ravine.

“Walk beside me,” he said to Barbara Harding, “an’ keep yer lamps peeled behind.”

Thus, in silence, the party commenced the ascent of the trail which soon became rough and precipitous, while behind them, under cover of the brush, sneaked four trailing samurai.

After half an hour of the most arduous climbing the mucker commenced to feel the effects of loss of blood from his many wounds.  He coughed a little now from the exertion, and when he did the blood spurted anew from the fresh wound in his breast.

Yet there was no wavering or weakness apparent to the girl who marched beside him, and she wondered at the physical endurance of the man.  But when at last they came to a clear pool of water, half hidden by overhanging rocks and long masses of depending mosses, in the midst of a natural grotto of enchanting loveliness, and Oda Iseka signaled that their journey was at an end, Byrne laid Theriere gently upon the flower-starred sward, and with a little, choking gasp collapsed, unconscious, beside the Frenchman.