The foreigners had now slackened their speed. Their following had diminished considerably, and those who remained were now keeping at a respectful distance from the heavy cane which one of the two swung back and forth in his hand with apparent carelessness. There was a hideous head on the knob of this stick. Was it possible that this might be a fiend whose touch would kill any little boy venturing too near? So the strangers, less troubled by their dwindled following, began to look about them with some interest.
The street upon which they found themselves appeared cool and refreshing because of its shadowing trees. There was an atmosphere of refinement and aestheticism about it that delighted the appreciative foreigners.
“Do you see where it leads?” said the one of the cane, pointing with his stick down the thoroughfare.
“Straight down to the water. What a wonderful sight!”
At a point where the street curved upward to a slight elevation, Matsushima, still at a good distance from them, burst upon their view. The visitors stood as if entranced. One of them lifted a pair of field-glasses to his eyes. After a full minute’s use of the glasses, he passed them silently to his companion. The other regarded the scene with equal admiration.
“We must go up there to-morrow without fail,” he said, waving his hand towards the heights on the opposite shore.
“Yes,” assented the other; “I understand there’s quite a party coming along to-morrow.”
“Yes, some Tokyo priest is escorting them. Well, a tourist might well visit the cemetery of his household.”
The other regarded him with some bewilderment.
“The cemetery of his household?” he repeated.