om the brink. Beyond and above these a few tall peaks stood thin and
pale, cutting a sky that was empty of all but light.

"Where is the dragon here?" challenged the old man.

"Asleep under the lake."

"And where here?" he asked quickly, in order to hide his discomfiture.
The second picture was a scene of heavy rain descending upon a village.
"Oh, I perceive for myself," he hurried on before Tatsu could reply.
"The dragon lies full length, half sleeping, on the soaking cloud."

Tatsu's lip curled, but he remained silent.

The old man's hands rattled among the edges of the papers. "Ah, here,
Master Painter, are you overthrown!" he cried triumphantly, lifting the
painting of a tall girl who swayed against a cloudy background. The
lines of the thin gray robe blew lightly to one side. The whole figure
had the poise and lightness of a vision; yet in the face an exquisite
human tenderness smiled out. "Show me a dragon here," repeated Kano.

Tatsu looked troubled and, for the first time, studied intently the
countenance of his host. "Surely, honored sir, if you are a painter,
as you say you are, its meaning must be plain. Look more closely. Do
you not see on what the maiden stands?"

"Of course I see," snapped Kano. "She stands among rocks and weeds,
and looks marvellously like----" He broke off, thinking it better not
to mention his daughter's name. "But I repeat, no dragon-thought is
here."

Tatsu reached out, took the picture, and tore it into shreds. Then he
rose to his feet. "Good-by," he said. "I shall now make a quick
returning. You are of the blind among men. My painting was the Dragon
Maid, standing on the peaks of earth. All my life I have sought her.
The people of my village think me mad because of her. By reason that I
cannot find, I paint. Good-by!"

"Good-by!" echoed the other. "What do you mean? What are you saying?"
The face of a horrible possibility jeered at him. His heart pounded
the lean ribs and stood still. Tatsu was upon his feet. In an instant
more he would be gone forever.

"Tatsu, wait!" almost screamed the old man. "Surely you cannot mean to
return when you have but now arrived! Be seated. I insist! There is
much to talk about."

"I have nothing to talk about. When a thing is to be done, then it is
best to do it quickly. Good-by!" He wheeled toward the deepening
night, the torn and soiled blue robe clinging to him as to the figure
of a primeval god.

"Tat