plain, and the
two armies, drawn up in battle array, were invisible to each other. To
prevent surprise, Iyeyasu sent in front of his army a body of guards
bearing white flags, to give quick warning of an advance.

At length, at eight o'clock, the fog rose and drifted away, revealing
the embattled hosts. Hardly had it vanished before the drums beat their
battle peal and the martial conchs sounded defiance, while a shower of
arrows from each army hurtled through the opposing ranks. In a short
time the impatient warriors met in mid field, and sword and spear began
their deadly work.

The great weight of the army of the league at first gave it the
advantage, and for hours the result was in doubt, though a corps of the
league forces deserted to the ranks of Iyeyasu. At length unity and
discipline began to prevail, the intrepidity of Iyeyasu and his skill in
taking advantage of every error of his enemy giving confidence to his
men. By noon they were bearing back the foe. Ordering up the reserves,
and bidding the drummers and conch-blowers to sound their most
inspiriting appeal, Iyeyasu gave order for the whole army to charge.

Before the impetuous onset that followed, the enemy wavered, broke, and
fled, followed in hot pursuit by the victorious host. And now a
frightful scene began. Thousands of heads of the flying were cut off by
the keen-edged blades of their pursuers. Most of the wounded and many of
the unhurt killed themselves upon the field, in obedience to the
exaggerated Japanese sense of honor. The defeat became a butchery. In
Japanese battles of the past quarter was a mercy rarely craved or
granted, and decapitation the usual mode of death when the sword could
be brought into play, so that the triumph of the victors was usually
indicated by the dimensions of the ghastly heap of heads. In this
frightful conflict the claim was made by the victors (doubtless an
exaggeration) that they had taken forty thousand heads of the foe,
while their own loss was only four thousand. However that be, a great
mound of heads was made, one of many such evidences of slaughter which
may still be seen in Japan.

Throughout the battle a knotted handkerchief was the only defence of
Iyeyasu's head. The victory won, he called for his helmet, which he put
on, carefully tying the strings. As all looked on with surprise at this
strange action, he, with a smile, repeated to them an old Japanese
proverb, "After victory, knot the cords of your