“Come closer,” said Ieyasu, “if you would really know the contents of this significant little bag; I may not soon again have such pleasure.”

“My sword, if you like, Ieyasu.”

“No, thanks; you may yourself have need to use it.”

“Upon my word; you don’t mean to infer the thing’s alive?” suggested Maeda, a little nervous.

“Look,” demanded Ieyasu, apparently somewhat angered.

“As I said; but what did you do with its body; I see only the face?” retorted Hideyoshi.

“What is it, Maeda?” inquired Ieyasu, a bit perturbed.

“A fox!” stammered the host, fairly white in the face.

“It’s a trick, I’ll promise,” ventured Ieyasu, no longer doubtful of Hideyoshi’s motive—or powers.

“Then let us turn it to some good use; friends have no better guarantee than constancy; I’ll carry it back, to where you got it, and see it’s done; wrangling widens only the gulf it would span; the circle is but a square not wholly produced,” said Hideyoshi, fully conscious of Ieyasu’s master intention.