Then you'll come riding home to me
To make life sweet another day.
The Call of the Race
It was the last day of September, the maple trees were turning to red and gold, the mist of purple haze was in the air, and all Japan was going to the parks and woods to revel in the colors they loved so well.
Three men came out of the American Embassy, and looked for a moment over the roofs below them, half conscious of the beauty of this autumn time. They chatted for a few moments, then one of them motioned to a servant to put his mail bag in the jinrickshaw and slowly stepping into the tiny carriage he was whirled away.
The other men watched him for a few moments in silence, then as they turned to go to the English club, the elder shook his head slowly as he rather viciously bit the end from his cigar.
"Freeman's made a big fool of himself," he said. "Nice man, too."
The younger man looked after the fast disappearing jinrickshaw and asked after a moment's hesitation: