sweetness. "Is this the home of Kano Indara?"

"Yes, yes, I am Kano Indara," said the artist, almost grovelling on the
stones. "Enter, dear sir, I beseech. You must be weary. Accompany me
in this direction, august youth. Mata, bring tea to the guest-room."

Tatsu followed his tempestuous host in silence. As they gained the
room Kano motioned him to a cushion, and prepared to take a seat
opposite. Tatsu suddenly sank to his knees, bowing again and again,
stiffly, in a manner long forgotten in fashionable Yeddo.

"Discard the ceremony of bowing, I entreat," said Kano.

"Why? Is it not a custom here?"

"Yes,--to a lesser extent. But between us, dear youth, it is
unnecessary."

"Why should it be unnecessary between us?" persisted the unsmiling
guest.

"Because we are artists, therefore brothers," explained Kano, in an
encouraging voice.

Tatsu frowned. "Who are you, and why have you sent for me?"

"Do you inquire who I am?" said Kano, scarcely believing his ears.

"It is what I asked."

"I am Kano Indara." The old man folded his arms proudly, waiting for
the effect.

Tatsu moved impatiently upon his velvet cushion. "Of course I knew
that. It was the name on the scrap of paper that guided me here."

"Is it possible that you do not yet know the meaning of the name of
Kano?" asked the artist, incredulously. A thin red tingled to his
cheek,--the hurt of childish vanity.

"There is one of that name in my village," said Tatsu. "He is a
scavenger, and often gives me fine large sheets of paper."

Old Kano's lip trembled. "I am not of his sort. Men call me an
artist."

"Oh, an artist! Does that mean a painter of dragons, like me?"

"Among other things of earth and air I have attempted to paint
dragons," said Kano.

"I paint nothing else," declared Tatsu, and seemed to lose interest in
the conversation.

Kano looked hard into his face. "You say that you paint nothing else?"
he challenged. "Are not these--all of them--your work, the creations
of your fancy?" He reached out for the roll that Uchida had brought.
His hands trembled. In his nervous excitement the papers fell,
scattering broadcast over the floor.

Tatsu's dark face flashed into light. "My pictures! My pictures!" he
cried aloud, like a child. "They always blow off down the mountain!"

Kano picked up a study at random. It was of a mountain tarn lying
quiet in the sun. Trees in a windless silence sprang straight upward
fr