“Hearing shots, I have been with my comrades to find out what they meant. We have searched everywhere but can find no one. I am coming down to report our failure.”
“Come nearer and let me see your face. Who is your captain?”
“I belong to the company of riflemen under the command of Captain Anayama.”
“Your name!”
“My name—my name is....”
“Men, take this fellow prisoner.”
More easily said than done. At the command four or five soldiers sprang forward to obey, but Katsutaka made such a vigorous defence that they found it impossible to hold him; and freeing himself from their grasp he ran down towards the foot of the hill. More soldiers were coming up, however, so he turned back, hoping under cover of some bushes to slip past and thus escape. But he was seen and caught as in a trap. Dealing heavy blows right and left he made a good fight, but the odds were too overwhelming and he was at last forced to yield. His gun was taken from him and handed to the general who found thereon an inscription in red lacquer, “One of 3,000 guns belonging to the Castle of Okazaki.”
The truth flashed upon him. He guessed that the man they had captured had been to Okazaki to ask for reinforcements. Late though it was he must be taken before the Commander-in-chief, General Katsuyori, at once.
Bloodstained and travel-worn Katsutaka presented a pitiable sight when, roused from his slumbers, the general surveyed him by the imperfect light of a lantern. Yet there was something in the bearing of the man that called forth a feeling of admiration for his courage rather than compassion for his condition and circumstances.