With groping hands he felt about the room—­it was unoccupied.  Then he passed to the door at the far end.  Cautiously he opened it until a narrow crack gave him a view of the dimly lighted chamber beyond.  Within all seemed asleep.  The mucker pushed the door still further open and stepped within—­so must he search every hut within the village until he had found those he sought?

They were not there, and on silent feet that disturbed not even the lightly slumbering curs the man passed out by the front entrance into the street beyond.

Through a second and third hut he made his precarious way.  In the fourth a man stirred as Byrne stood upon the opposite side of the room from the door—­with a catlike bound the mucker was beside him.  Would the fellow awake?  Billy scarce breathed.  The samurai turned restlessly, and then, with a start, sat up with wide-open eyes.  At the same instant iron fingers closed upon his throat and the long sword of his dead daimio passed through his heart.

Byrne held the corpse until he was positive that life was extinct, then he dropped it quietly back upon its pallet, and departed to search the adjoining dwelling.  Here he found a large front room, and a smaller chamber in the rear—­an arrangement similar to that in the daimio’s house.

The front room revealed no clue to the missing men.  Within the smaller, rear room Byrne heard the subdued hum of whispered conversation just as he was about to open the door.  Like a graven image he stood in silence, his ear glued to the frail door.  For a moment he listened thus and then his heart gave a throb of exultation, and he could have shouted aloud in thanksgiving—­the men were conversing in English!

Quietly Byrne pushed open the door far enough to admit his body.  Those within ceased speaking immediately.  Byrne closed the door behind him, advancing until he felt one of the occupants of the room.  The man shrank from his touch.

“I guess we’re done for, Mallory,” said the man in a low tone; “they’ve come for us.”

“Sh-sh,” warned the mucker.  “Are you and Mallory alone?”

“Yes—­for God’s sake who are you and where did you come from?” asked the surprised Mr. Harding.

“Be still,” admonished Byrne, feeling for the cords that he knew must bind the captive.

He found them presently and with his jackknife cut them asunder.  Then he released Mallory.

“Follow me,” he said, “but go quietly.  Take off your shoes if you have ’em on, and hang ’em around your neck—­tie the ends of the laces together.”

The men did as he bid and a moment later he was leading them across the room, filled with sleeping men, women, children, and domestic animals.  At the far side stood a rack filled with long swords.  Byrne removed two without the faintest suspicion of a noise.  He handed one to each of his companions, cautioning them to silence with a gesture.