The Dragon Painter | Page 8

back into the mist. We
called, beseeching help. The workmen thought him a young sennin, and
falling on their knees, began to pray. Then the youth approached us
more deliberately, and, when we asked for guidance, led us by a
secluded path down into a mountain village."
"And you think,--you think that this marvellous youth," began Kano,
eagerly; then broke off with a gesture of despair. "I must not believe, I
must not believe," he muttered.
Ando's hand was once more on the roll of papers. He went on smoothly.
"We questioned of him in the village. He is a foundling. None knows
his parentage. From childhood he has made pictures upon rocks, and
sand beds, and the inner bark of trees. He wanders for days together
among the peaks, and declares that he is searching for his mate, a
Dragon Princess, withheld from him by enchantment. Naturally the
village people think him mad. But they are kind to him. They give him
food and clothing, and sometimes sheets of paper, like these here."
With affected unconcern he raised the long roll. "Yes, they give him
paper, with real ink and brushes. Then he leaps up the mountain side
and paints and paints for hours, like a demon. But as soon as he has
eased his soul of a sketch he lets the first gust of wind blow it away."
Kano was now shivering in his place. On his wrinkled face a light
dawned. "Shall I believe? Oh, Ando, indeed I could not bear it now!
Unroll those drawings before I go mad!"

Uchida deliberately spread out the first. It was a scene of mountain
storm, painted as in an elemental fury. Inky pine branches slashed and
hurled upward, downward, and across a tortured gray sky. A cloud-rack
tore the void like a Valkyrie's cry made visible. One huge talon of
lightning clutched at the flying scud.
Kano gave a glance, covered his face, and began to sob. Uchida blew
his nose on the pink-bordered foreign handkerchief. After a long while
the old man whispered, "What name shall I use in my prayer?"
"He is called," said Ando, "by the name of 'Tatsu.' 'Tatsu, the Dragon
Painter.'"

II
The sounds and sights of the great capital were dear to Ando Uchida. In
five years of busy exile among remote mountains he felt that he had
earned, as it were, indulgence for an interval of leisurely enjoyment.
His initial visit to old Kano had been made not so much to renew an
illustrious acquaintance, as to relieve his own mind of its exciting news,
and his hands of a parcel which, at every stage of the journey, had been
an incubus. Ando knew the paintings to be unusual. He had hoped for
and received from Kano the highest confirmation of this belief.
At that time, now a week ago, he had been pleased, and Kano irradiated.
Already he was cursing himself for his pains, and crying aloud that, had
he dreamed the consequences, never had the name of Tatsu crossed his
lips! Ando's anticipated joys in Yeddo lay, as yet, before him. Hourly
was he tormented by visits from the impatient Kano. Neither midnight
nor dawn were safe from intrusion. Always the same questions were
asked, the same fears spoken, the same glorious future prophesied; until
finally, in despair, one night Ando arose between the hours of two and
three, betaking himself to a small suburban hotel. Here he lived, for a
time, in peace, under the protection of an assumed name.
A letter had been dispatched that first day, to Tatsu of Kiu Shiu, with a

sum of money for the defraying of travelling expenses, and the petition
that the youth should come as quickly as possible for a visit to Kano
Indara, since the old man could not, of himself, attempt so long a
journey. After what seemed to the impatient writer (and in equal degree
to the harassed Uchida) an endless cycle of existence, an answer came,
not, indeed from Tatsu, but from the "Mura osa," or head of the village,
saying that the Mad Painter had started at once upon his journey, taking
not even a change of clothes. By what route he would travel or on what
date arrive, only the gods could tell.
Kano's rapture in these tidings was assailed, at once, by a swarm of
black conjectures. Might the boy not lose himself by the way? If he
attempted to ride upon the hideous foreign trains he was certain to be
injured; if on the other hand, he did not come by train, weeks, even
months, might be consumed in the journey. Again, should he essay to
come by boat! Then there were dangers of wind and storm. Visions of
Tatsu drowned; of Tatsu heaped