"I think we deserve a little vacation, Nattie. Suppose we knock off now and have an early dinner out at home. Then we can go to the theatre to-night. Horikoshi Shu is going to play in the 'Forty-seven Ronins.'"
His brother shrugged his shoulders as if the latter prospect was not entirely to his taste.
"I confess I can't see much in Japanese theatricals since my visit to the States," he replied, "but we'll take it in. Dinner first, eh? Well, come along."
Leaving the office to the care of a watchman, they walked down the street toward the custom house. Grant recognized and bowed to a score of persons within the few blocks. It was evident that he was well known in the foreign mercantile circles of Yokohama.
"They will be surprised when they hear that we have resumed business," remarked Nattie, with a grin.
"It will be unpleasant news to some," replied his brother, dryly. "If we have the success I anticipate I wouldn't be astonished if we found the whole crew banded against us. Black & Company can influence the three German houses and probably others."
Nattie snapped his fingers in the air in defiance. They presently came to a jinrikisha stand, and selecting two vehicles promising comfort, were soon whirling away homeward. The distance to the suburb on the heights where the Mannings lived was fully three ris, or more than six miles, but the karumayas made little of the task.
These men, the "cab horses" of Japan, clad in their short tunics, straw sandals, and huge mushroom-shaped hats of the same material, possess wonderful energy. They think nothing of a couple of miles at full speed, and the apparently careless manner in which they tread their way through mazes of crowded streets is awe-inspiring to the foreign visitor.
It was an old story to Grant and Nattie, however, and they leaned back against the soft cushions in comfort. After passing the custom house the karumayas turned into the Japanese town. Here the scene changed instantly.