“Oh, yes; if you like, you may hold it till Shibata returns; he shall want to see it, and Hideyoshi rightly trusts me; it’s a good security.”

Ieyasu knew his man and believed him true; hence carefully closed the sack and himself tied up the end—it seemed a gruesome task, but Yodogima were worth any price imposed; so he shouldered the bag and once again made his way toward his friend, Maeda’s house, for were his accomplice successful at informing Shibata, and could the determined father but see that face once more, there remained no doubt in his mind as to what the outcome should be.

Nor was Hideyoshi any the less advised, or conscious, or alert, as to probable results; in the absence of Ieyasu he had run in upon Maeda—also his friend—knocking hard upon the door with his cutlass and calling out:

“Mataza, Mataza!” (Maeda’s given name.)

Maeda welcomed him, and as they stood chatting about an alliance, wherefore especially the visitor had called, Ieyasu came trudging in.

“What unsightly thing have you there, Ieyasu?” inquired the host, withal reassuringly, if somewhat suspiciously, considering the identity of their newest guest.

Ieyasu carefully set the bundle upon a convenient bench, and would of his own will, under the circumstances, have made short work of Hideyoshi had not the offence been unpardonable to any host, much more so with Maeda, whom they both respected as well as courted.

Hideyoshi appeared to be not at all disturbed, though he scanned carefully the bag and may have remembered seeing it before, and as much as fairly guessed its contents.

“A fox, I reckon,” ventured Hideyoshi, by way of compromise; “they are plentiful in these parts, so I am told. Where did you get it, Ieyasu, and is it a whole one, or only the head? Come; out with it, and I’ll stand sponsor.”

Ieyasu would fight, if needs be, but could not bear an insult, particularly at the hands of this so-called monkey-faced upstart—though he had just routed Shibata and now bade fair to win over their mutual friend Maeda.