"Yes, unless the gods should honorably please to take away your power to climb."
"Oh," gasped Umé, "I hope the gods will never do that!"
She looked anxiously at her feet and said, "I hope they will never need my feet for anything. So unworthily short a time have I used them, that they cannot be fit for the gods."
"Let your use of them be always in the service of the gods, and the more honorably old they grow, the more favor will they find in the sight of the gods," answered her grandmother.
But Tara did not like such serious talk. "How does the earth get back on the mountain--the earth that the pilgrims bring down every day on their sandals?" he asked.
"It is said that it goes back of itself by night," his grandmother replied, and added, "but I would rather speak of the path of straw sandals which the pilgrims leave behind them as they toil up the rough sides of Fujiyama."
"Then what do they do?" asked Umé.
"They take many pairs with them, so that when one pair is worn out they may have others."
"But I thought the pilgrims were honorably poor," said Umé.
"Not always," said her grandmother. "And sandals cost but an insignificant sum. A pair may be bought for a few rin."