and laughing at her. Then she knew they were little fairies, and became so frightened that she could not even cry out. They danced around her until morning; then they all vanished suddenly.
She was ashamed to tell anybody what had happened, because, as she was the wife of a warrior, she did not wish anybody to know how frightened she had been.
Next night, again, the little men came and danced; and they came also the night after that, and every night, always at the same hour, which the old Japanese used to call the “hour of the ox”; that is, about two o’clock in the morning by our time. At last she became very sick, through want of sleep and through fright. But the little men would not leave her alone.
When her husband came back home he was very sorry to find her sick in bed. At first she was afraid to tell him what had made her ill, for fear that he would laugh at her. But he was so kind, and coaxed her so gently, that after a while she told him what happened every night.
He did not laugh at her at all, but looked very serious for a time. Then he asked:
“At what time do they come?”
She answered, “Always at the same hour—the ‘hour of the ox.’”
“Very well,” said her husband; “to-night I shall hide, and watch for them. Do not be frightened.”
So that night the warrior hid himself in a closet in the sleeping-room, and kept watch through a chink between the sliding doors.
He waited and watched until the “hour of the ox.” Then, all at once, the little men came up through the mats, and began their dance and their song: