The cub felt the touch of her soft hand, and trembled no longer. She loosened carefully the knot and noose and string.
She stroked the red fur smooth again, and bound up the little bleeding leg. She offered it rice and fish to eat, but the black eyes plainly said, “This is very nice, but I hear my parents grieving near yonder beanstraw stack. I long to go and comfort them.”
She set the little fox gently on the ground, and, forgetting its wounded leg, it leaped through the bushes at one happy bound.
The two old foxes gravely looked it over neck and breast.
They licked it from its bushy tail to its smooth, brown crown. Then, sitting up on their haunches, they gave two sharp barks of gratitude.
That was their way of saying, “We send you thanks, sweet maid.”
As she walked home by the river side, all the world seemed more beautiful to O Haru San.
The summer time came and the blossoms upon the cherry trees became rich, ripe fruit. But there was no joy in the emperor’s house.
His daughter, the gentle O Haru San, was ill. She grew paler and weaker each day. Physicians came from far and near, and shook their wise heads gravely.