Our path lay
through a valley, with rocks on either side.

Just as we were within a mile of a village named Tone, a wild boar,
closely pressed by a man with a spear, rushed down through the woods,
and around a huge mass of rocks. The hunter, knowing every inch of the
ground, sprang round a shorter curve, and reached the path at the end of
the gully just as the boar at full trot leaped down. Levelling his long
weapon, with all his might he drove the blade with a terrific lunge
between the boar's ribs, just back of the heart. So great was the
impetus of the swift animal that the hunter was nearly taken off his
feet, while the boar turned a complete somersault. We expected to see
the blade of the lance snap, or the handle wrench off; but no, steel and
wood were too true. The boar struggled and rolled over the bloody snow,
but was helpless to get on his feet again. The hunter quietly drew out
the steel, wiped it with a bunch of dead leaves, and then, with equal
coolness, drew his sword and severed the jugular vein of the dying boar.

By this time the hunter's two sons, who had helped to start the animal
from his lair, came down the hill. Passing two strands of rope made of
rice straw around the carcass, they inserted a thick bamboo pole under
the withes. Then swinging the pole over their shoulders, they started
off on a dog-trot to the village, shouting as they went. We followed
them, and when near the village gate heard a bedlam of unearthly yells
and whoops of triumph from all the boys and girls of the village, who
were proud of their famous hunter. We had entered into conversation with
him, and learned that his name was Nakano Kawachi.

Our party, at the invitation of the hunter, entered his house, first
taking off our shoes. We all sat round the fire, which was in a great
square hearth in the middle of the floor, while the chimney was a gaping
black funnel in the ceiling. My party consisted of three of my students
from the government school of Fukui, my interpreter, a brave soldier
named Inouye, and my body-servant Sahei. The six mountaineers with huge
wide snow-shoes, whom I hired for the size of their feet to beat a path
in the snow-drift for our party, remained outside with the villagers.
They, with their children, stood in crowds outside to catch a sight of
me, as they had never seen an American before.

Our host, first unstrapping his sword, carefully wiped and cleansed his
spear, which he stands on its iron bu