CHOKICHI’S PILGRIMAGE

The whole year had gone wrong for Chokichi. When, at the close of the old year, his bills had come in and he had paid them off,--as every Japanese must if he would go on into the future at all,--he had not only been left without money, but had been forced to offer his stock in trade at absurdly low prices; and--for purchasers are few and sellers many at that season, and in a small village only as many _tabi_[40] can be absorbed at once as the population has feet to cover--he had, after all, been driven to carry a large part of his wardrobe to the _furugi-ya_[41] and sell it for what it would bring, in order to satisfy his creditors.

And then, after beginning the new year with narrowed resources, he had been further afflicted by the illness of his wife. Money spent on doctors and medicines was of no avail, and she had gone steadily from bad to worse, until at last she had died and left him with no one to attend to the house or the shop, just as things were looking up a little and custom coming in.

Then he had taken an apprentice,--Tōshi, the son of a neighbor who had more boys than he needed to carry on the hereditary business of tub-making, and who was glad to put into Chokichi’s care the most mischievous and good-for-nothing of his lithe, laughing, bullet-headed progeny. Tōshi, with his smooth brown face, his black slits of eyes, his short blue kimono folded neatly about his muscular young legs, would sit meekly on his heels by his master’s side, sewing at the _tabi_ that had been cut and put into his hands, a very model of all the virtues. But if Chokichi left the house for an hour or two in Tōshi’s care, trusting for the moment to the guileless expression and exemplary behavior of his apprentice, he was more than likely on his return to meet the miscreant in the street at the head of a procession of boys marching with flags and singing war-songs with brazen voices, while in the shop all would be disorder, the unfinished socks scattered about the floor, the cat curled up in the tumbled bolt of white cotton from which the _tabi_ were to be cut, or a live coal from the _hibachi_ burning a hole in the newly covered mats.

What was a poor _tabi_-maker to do? Chokichi spent much time in meditation upon this problem, and at last, when August came and pilgrim parties were starting from all the villages to make the tour of the sacred places, a thought came to him that soon urged him into action.

If everything went wrong, it must surely be that he had somehow failed in his duty toward the gods. He could not make a grand tour with the clubs that went out, after a year of saving and preparation, to be gone a month or more, and reap much spiritual benefit by propitiating as many of the gods as possible,--he fairly shuddered to think of what might happen to the shop and Tōshi in such an absence,--but why not take a day, close the shop, send Tōshi home to his mischievous brothers, and make a pilgrimage to the shrine on the top of Miyamoto Yama? He had heard his father tell of how once his grandfather had made pilgrimage thither, and of what wonderful good luck had come in answer to his prayers.

It took Chokichi some time to reason this all out while he sat over his work, cutting, basting, directing Tōshi, sewing on the cheap German hand-machine that he had bought one lucky year when he had found a pleasant little surplus in his till after all his debts were paid. But when he had thought it out, there was no delay about decision.

“Tōshi,” he said suddenly, “would you like a holiday?”

Tōshi’s black eyes gleamed, his ivory teeth shone, but he kept on demurely with his work.

“Yes, master,” he answered, “if your honor would condescend to give one to my unworthiness.”

“I shall close the shop to-morrow, for I must go away on business of importance. You may return to your father’s to-night, and come back to me early in the morning of the day after to-morrow, in time to open the shop.” Chokichi was very condescending and important in his manner. He wished Tōshi to understand that the holiday was no reward of virtue.

Very early the next morning, Chokichi, a box of luncheon tied up in a _furoshiki_,[42] dangling from one hand, a stout staff in the other, his kimono turned up above his knees and tucked into his belt, his bare feet shod with sandals tied tightly about his ankles by strings of twisted straw, walked quickly out of the village, taking the straight highroad that pointed toward the mountains. The mists lay in low, level bands against the sides of the great range, the sun was hardly above the horizon, but the peasants were already at work in the rice-fields, their broad hats showing like rows of giant mushrooms on the square green patches of growing rice.

Chokichi swung along jauntily, making good time in the morning coolness; for the red-faced sun behind him promised a hot day on the plain, and he was anxious to reach the shelter of the wooded gorges before the heat was full upon him. And thanks to his vigorous pace, it was not more than nine o’clock when he found himself traveling along the rugged mountain path, a precipice above him, a green ravine beneath, through which roared and tumbled a small river, swollen and white from the August rains. How delightfully cool and damp it was! He stopped beside a stream that leaped from the precipice in a sheet of foam into a basin cut for it beside the road, then gurgled and hissed under a culvert on its way to the river, below. He bathed his hands and arms and feet and legs in the clear, cool water.

“It was a great thing to do,” he said to himself. “Such a day for the walk! I almost wish I had brought Tōshi, though, for it is pretty lonely!”

He stopped and listened. All the cheerful valley sounds were gone,--the children shouting at their play, the women singing at their looms, the squawking and chatter of fowls, the peasants calling from field to field, the bump-bump of the great mill-wheel, the clatter of clogs and patter of bare feet. There was no sound except the gushing and rushing of water, the swish of green leaves over which the breeze was passing, the murmur of the pines as the wind came their way. As Chokichi listened he shivered a little, for he was used to the social village life, and he seemed so far from human companionship. But he cheered himself with the thought of his grandfather’s luck. There would be little merit to be gained if his day of pilgrimage were all pleasure. And the fact that he was alone would make his luck all the greater,--there would be no one to share it.

And so he trudged along,--one moment wishing for company, the next glad he had none,--until he had reached a goodly height. He stopped to breathe and wipe his face and arms with his blue-figured towel, and stood a moment to look at the square green rice-fields far below him, and the village from which he had come, with its huddled thatched roofs like haystacks on both sides of the narrow road. He was engaged in trying to pick out his own among the gray cottages, and heard no sound of approaching feet, so that a fresh young voice with a ripple of laughter in it startled him, though it uttered only a polite “Good day!”

He turned quickly and looked into a bright, roguish pair of eyes a little below the level of his own,--eyes that flashed from under a blue-and-white towel coquettishly tied about puffs of shining black hair.

“Good day!” he answered, looking with undisguised pleasure upon the picturesque maiden before him.

She seemed about sixteen years old, and was dressed in the simple country costume,--a dark blue kimono and a red-figured _obi_. Her skirt was turned up, and showed a bright red petticoat reaching a little below the knee. Her legs were bare, shapely, and white; she wore rough straw sandals on her feet, tied about her slender ankles. Her face was merry,--red-cheeked, with laughing lips which showed no trace of care or trouble or evil temper.

Chokichi ventured to remark that it was a warm day,--very warm for a young lady to choose for mountain-climbing.

“Truly, it is very warm,” answered the girl, “and I have lost my way. Can you tell me which path leads to the Miyamoto shrine?”

“Assuredly, honorable young lady. I am going there myself, and shall be only too glad if you will condescend to let me accompany you.”

The girl bowed low in thanks, and then the two walked on together, Chokichi ahead, the maiden modestly following. They scrambled a little way in silence up the steep path; then Chokichi, who thanked his lucky stars that he had not brought the mischievous Tōshi, stopped and seated himself upon a rock.

“Let us rest here a little,” he said. “The shrine is not far distant, but the road is steep, and we must get our breath before we begin the last pull.”

The girl sat down across the path from him, and her eyes danced as she looked at him, then she dropped them to the ground and sighed. Chokichi could not but think what an adornment so fair a maiden would be to his lonely house. He began tentatively,--

“And the young lady’s home--is it far from here?”

The girl looked up as she answered, “My humble home? Indeed, it is far away--beyond Futago Yama,” and she pointed to a great double peak that rose out of the north. “I have been walking since before light, and have seen no one since I started until I met you.”

“But why,--if you will permit me to ask so impolite a question,--why do you walk so far all alone to this lonely mountain shrine?”

The girl lifted her hand to her face so that her long sleeve hid her mouth, and her bright eyes softened a little.

“My mother is very ill,” she said gently, “and we are poor and have no money to buy medicine, so I am going to the shrine to ask the gods to give her health.” She hid her whole face behind her sleeve, and Chokichi where he sat could hear her sobbing softly.

“Do not be sad,” he entreated, rising and going to her. He laid one hand on her shoulder, patting her lightly. “The gods will surely grant the prayer of so sweet a pilgrim, and I have money enough to buy medicine for your mother when we come down.”

“Come! Let us go!” she said, rising briskly.

Chokichi was astonished at the sudden change. The roguish light came back into her eyes. She hurried on ahead, looking back at him over her shoulder from time to time. Chokichi was fairly infatuated.

“Wait! Wait a moment!” he called, for her shapely white legs were speeding so fast that he could hardly keep up with her. “Wait for me! I have something to tell you!”

The girl stopped, laughing gleefully. Chokichi, puffing from the chase, came up to her.

“Might it not be”--He stopped, embarrassed. When he had courted Kiku, all had been done through go-betweens. This was new work for him. He began again, “Might it not be that if you had a husband to take care of you, you would not need to take such long journeys all alone to strange shrines?”

Her roguish eyes went up at the corners until they were almost lost in her hair.

“Truly,” she answered, “it might be; but now I go to pray. When we return, we will talk of other things.”

The way wound dimly now through thick woods,--great cedars with trunks like temple pillars. Ahead of them, across the path, stood the heavy _torii_ that marked the beginning of the holy ground. Suddenly the girl stumbled, then gathered herself together with a groan.

“What is the matter? What have you done? Let me help you!” Chokichi cried, hurrying to her.

“I have hurt my ankle and twisted my knee,” she said faintly, leaning against a tree. “My sandal string is cutting me, and I cannot stoop to loosen it!”

“Let me fix it for you,” said Chokichi, squatting beside her and touching lightly the injured ankle.

As he touched it, suddenly it changed under his hand. It was no longer the shapely, slender foot of a young woman, but a great hairy, muscular paw like that of a bear. A yell of demon laughter was in the air. He looked up to see that his companion had grown to the height of a giant, and was staring at him with terrible eyes from a monkey face. Only the dress remained to show that this fearful monster was the charming maiden of the moment before.

Mad with fright, Chokichi fled through the _torii_ into the shrine itself that stood with mossy roof in the dark grove. An old man was sitting in the priest’s room adjoining the temple, and over a _hibachi_ by his side a tea-kettle was boiling merrily. The homely sight and sound were reassuring, and Chokichi felt a little better for the pleasant human companionship.

“Welcome! Welcome!” called the old man. “Come in and take a cup of tea and have a whiff of tobacco. The day is hot, and you must be tired with your long climb up the hill.”

So gentle, so polite, so smiling was his host, that Chokichi sat and talked with him, forgetting the prayers that he had come so far to offer. At last he told him all about his strange adventure on the hillside. The old man chuckled as he described the girl.

“Ay, truly!” he said, wagging his head knowingly.

Then Chokichi told of the great hairy foot.

“Was it like this?” shouted the old man, with a yell, rising suddenly, and Chokichi saw that same foot thrust out in front of him, while far above his head, with staring, terrible eyes and monkey face, was the monster from which he had fled. Around him echoed peals of derisive laughter.

This time it was rage rather than fright that moved Chokichi, and he sprang at his tormentor like a wounded tiger. Gripping the great hairy leg tightly with both hands, he held on until he lost consciousness.

A hunter, passing the shrine late in the day, found him lying on the ground just within the _torii_. He was bleeding from a cut on the head. In one hand he held a bunch of reddish hair. It took some time to bring him to his senses, and then he told his story.

“I’ve got something to show for it,” he said manfully. “I tore this out of the monster before he threw me down.”

The hunter looked at it curiously.

“That is fox-hair!” he exclaimed. “You were bewitched! I know those foxes, they come from the Inari shrine on the other side of Futago Yama!”

Slowly Chokichi toiled down the mountain-side through the darkness; sadly he let himself into his silent house.

When Tōshi returned to his work the next morning, he found his master with a bad cut on his forehead, but welcoming his apprentice with a joy that caused that mischievous youngster some surprise.

“And did the master’s business prosper yesterday?” he inquired humbly, but with a twinkle in his eye that showed he had his own suspicions.

“Tōshi,” answered Chokichi enigmatically, “if a man would see his business prosper, let him mind it himself, nor clamor to the gods for aid.”

FOOTNOTES:

[40] The mitten-shaped sock worn by Japanese.

[41] The old-clothes dealer.

[42] A square of cloth used for wrapping bundles.