Bunkichi, who could not suppress his laughter, contrived, as it were, to discharge the missiles from his breast while actually bringing out the stones from his sleeves. As the monkeys drew closer to him, still pulling off their hair, the three men were now given time to breathe. They at once came out from their hiding-place, and, scolding the monkeys, began to pick up stones to help in their turn their deliverer in his stand against them.
The youth cried out, as he quickly perceived their action: “No! No! Don’t pick up stones! If any of you have the instruments for striking fire, set fire as quickly as you can to the dry grass.” The men did as they were told, and as the wind fanned the fire the smoke and flames soon spread over the ground. The army of monkeys, thinking the day was lost, set up a great chatter and, jumping from tree to tree, disappeared.
The men now recovered from their fright, and, having put out the fire, thanked Bunkichi and said: “We are most grateful to you, sir. If you had not come we should almost to a certainty have been stoned to death by the monkeys.”
“It was a narrow escape, wasn’t it?” remarked Bunkichi, “but I am curious to know—did you not throw stones at them first?”
“Yes,” replied the men, with animated expression.
Bunkichi could not help smiling as he thought of how they had acted, and said: “You know monkeys are foolish animals and try to imitate whatever others do.”
“You seem to know everything,” said the men, who were much struck by his wisdom. “But where have you come from?”
“I live at Kumano,” was the reply, “but was brought up at Kada-no-Ura; so I know about monkeys, as we have plenty of them there.”
Then the leading one of the three, making a polite bow, urged Bunkichi, saying: “I am the owner of this orange farm, and my home is not far from here. Please come to my house.”
On the way thither he asked the boy his name and where his home was.