“Perhaps. You know, though, that Hideyoshi is reputed, there.”

Katsutoya led his troops to the defense of Shizugataka, Hideyoshi’s outlying stronghold against Shibata’s well-worn approach; but no sooner had camp been struck than Sakuma hurled Shibata’s advance force against him. The battle raged, and Katsutoya wavered; surprise had overcome him, and defeat completed the rout. Sakuma would have followed up his success and gained Yodogima the head, not the hand, of Katsutoya had not Gonroku hailed him in the distance; Shibata had again seen the fox—saw Hideyoshi’s phalanx scaling the mountains to the left—and sent Gonroku to recall Sakuma that he might make haste to save Kitanoshi itself.

“O Jimmu; O Katsutoya; O Yodogima,” murmured Shibata, as Gonroku disappeared down the mountain side.

A forced march soon brought Gonroku’s reserves within knowing distance of Sakuma’s victorious division.

Katsutoya had recovered himself on the opposite side of Yodo lake. Sakuma grew impatient to take him, but Gonroku fired at the thought of a hireling’s success and balked at the proposal, denying even the identity of their enemy.

“It is Katsutoya, I tell you, and unless destroyed our very lives are in danger.”

“You err, Sakuma; and till you prove me wrong you shall command no more than a body guard.”

With only six men, seven including himself, Sakuma plunged through the reeds, once more into the heat of battle, and the fighting renewed now in desperation; Gonroku looked on with a smile. Valiant men gathered round and Sakuma spied their bogie hero. Cutting and slashing his way thither, at last the coveted thing dropped helpless at a stroke; but lo! was it only a fox’s head?

Katsutoya had flown, and the phantom army no longer a reality Sakuma gathered up the gruesome thing and hastening thither bowed humbly as tradition demanded; Gonroku sent him away, to wander in the woods, as others had done before, a ronin and a failure—Hideyoshi thus chanced upon him.

“What have you there, Sakuma?”