reverberations overlapping each other until the entire cave was aroar and seemed to be pitching and swaying. Shudderingly they recalled the legend that between the sixteenth and eighteenth days ofthe sixth moon seven pure-white sharks were supposed to appear out of nowhere within that shaft to the sea.
In this game the boys changed their parts at will, shifting between the roles of enemies and friends with the greatest of ease. Sochan had been made an Indian chief because of the cobwebs in his hair, and the other two were frontier guards, implacable enemies of all Indians, but now, wanting to ask the chief why the waves echoed so frighteningly, they suddenly became his two loyal braves.
Sochan understood the change immediately and seated himself with great dignity on a rock beneath the candles.
“O Chief, what terrible sound is this that we hear?”
“This, my children,” said Sochan in solemn tones, “this is the god showing his anger.”
“And what can we do to appease the god’s anger?” Hiroshi asked.
“Well, now, let me see.… Yes, the only thing to do is to make him an offering and then pray.”
So they took the rice crackers and bean-jam buns that they had either received or filched from their mothers, arranged them on a sheet of newspaper, and ceremonially placed them on a rock overlooking the shaft.
Chief Sochan walked between the two braves, advancing with pomp to the altar, where after prostrating himself on the limestone floor he raised both arms high, chanted a curious, impromptu incantation, and then prayed, bending the upper half of his body back and forth. Behind the chieftain Hiroshi and Katchan went through the same genuflections. The cold surface of the stone pressed through their trousers and touched their kneecaps, and all the while Hiroshi and the others felt themselves in very truth to be characters in a movie.
Fortunately, the god’s wrath seemed to have been placated,and the roar of the waves became a little quieter. So they sat in a circle and ate the offerings of rice crackers and bean-jam buns from the altar. The food tasted ten times more delicious than usual.
Just then a still more tremendous roar sounded, and a spray of water flung itself high out of the shaft. In the gloom the sudden spray looked like a white phantom; the waters set the cavern to rumbling and swaying; and it seemed as though the sea were looking for a chance to snatch even these three Indians, seated in a circle within the stone room, and pull them to its depths.
In spite of themselves, Hiroshi, Sochan, and Katchan were afraid, and when a stray gust of wind blew out of nowhere, fluttering the flames of the candles beneath the Sanskrit inscription and finally blowing one out altogether, their fear grew still stronger. But the three of them were always trying to outdo each other in displays of bravery; so, with the cheerful instinct of all boys, they quickly hid their fear under the guise of playing the game.
Hiroshi and Katchan became two cowardly Indian braves, trembling with fear.
“Oh! oh! I’m afraid! I’m afraid! O Chief, the god is terribly angry. What could have made him so angry? Tell us, O Chief.”
Sochan sat on a throne of stone, trembling and shaking majestically like the chieftain he was. Pressed for an answer, he recalled the gossip that had been secretly whispered about the island during the past few days and, without any evil purpose, decided to make use of it. He cleared his throat and spoke:
“It is because of an immorality. It is because of an unrighteousness.”
“Immorality?” asked Hiroshi. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you know, Hiroshi? I mean what your brother Shinji did to Miyata’s daughter Hatsue—I mean omeko— that’s what. And that’s what the god is angry about.”
Hearing his brother mentioned and feeling something disgraceful was being said about him, Hiroshi flared out at the chieftain in a rage:
“What’s that you say my brother did with Sister
In this game the boys changed their parts at will, shifting between the roles of enemies and friends with the greatest of ease. Sochan had been made an Indian chief because of the cobwebs in his hair, and the other two were frontier guards, implacable enemies of all Indians, but now, wanting to ask the chief why the waves echoed so frighteningly, they suddenly became his two loyal braves.
Sochan understood the change immediately and seated himself with great dignity on a rock beneath the candles.
“O Chief, what terrible sound is this that we hear?”
“This, my children,” said Sochan in solemn tones, “this is the god showing his anger.”
“And what can we do to appease the god’s anger?” Hiroshi asked.
“Well, now, let me see.… Yes, the only thing to do is to make him an offering and then pray.”
So they took the rice crackers and bean-jam buns that they had either received or filched from their mothers, arranged them on a sheet of newspaper, and ceremonially placed them on a rock overlooking the shaft.
Chief Sochan walked between the two braves, advancing with pomp to the altar, where after prostrating himself on the limestone floor he raised both arms high, chanted a curious, impromptu incantation, and then prayed, bending the upper half of his body back and forth. Behind the chieftain Hiroshi and Katchan went through the same genuflections. The cold surface of the stone pressed through their trousers and touched their kneecaps, and all the while Hiroshi and the others felt themselves in very truth to be characters in a movie.
Fortunately, the god’s wrath seemed to have been placated,and the roar of the waves became a little quieter. So they sat in a circle and ate the offerings of rice crackers and bean-jam buns from the altar. The food tasted ten times more delicious than usual.
Just then a still more tremendous roar sounded, and a spray of water flung itself high out of the shaft. In the gloom the sudden spray looked like a white phantom; the waters set the cavern to rumbling and swaying; and it seemed as though the sea were looking for a chance to snatch even these three Indians, seated in a circle within the stone room, and pull them to its depths.
In spite of themselves, Hiroshi, Sochan, and Katchan were afraid, and when a stray gust of wind blew out of nowhere, fluttering the flames of the candles beneath the Sanskrit inscription and finally blowing one out altogether, their fear grew still stronger. But the three of them were always trying to outdo each other in displays of bravery; so, with the cheerful instinct of all boys, they quickly hid their fear under the guise of playing the game.
Hiroshi and Katchan became two cowardly Indian braves, trembling with fear.
“Oh! oh! I’m afraid! I’m afraid! O Chief, the god is terribly angry. What could have made him so angry? Tell us, O Chief.”
Sochan sat on a throne of stone, trembling and shaking majestically like the chieftain he was. Pressed for an answer, he recalled the gossip that had been secretly whispered about the island during the past few days and, without any evil purpose, decided to make use of it. He cleared his throat and spoke:
“It is because of an immorality. It is because of an unrighteousness.”
“Immorality?” asked Hiroshi. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you know, Hiroshi? I mean what your brother Shinji did to Miyata’s daughter Hatsue—I mean omeko— that’s what. And that’s what the god is angry about.”
Hearing his brother mentioned and feeling something disgraceful was being said about him, Hiroshi flared out at the chieftain in a rage:
“What’s that you say my brother did with Sister
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