"What kind of a man can you be, good Sir, that you dare to lie down alone
in such a place as this?... There are haunters about here,-- many of them.
are you not afraid of Hairy Things?"


"My friend," cheerfully answered Kwairyo, "I am only a wandering priest,--
a 'Cloud-and-Water-Guest,' as folks call it: Unsui-no-ryokaku. (2) And I am
not in the least afraid of Hairy Things,-- if you mean goblin-foxes, or
goblin-badgers, or any creatures of that kind. As for lonesome places, I
like them: they are suitable for meditation. I am accustomed to sleeping in
the open air: and I have learned never to be anxious aboutmy life."


"You must be indeed a brave man, Sir Priest," the peasant responded, "to
lie down here! This place has a bad name,-- a very bad name. But, as the
proverb has it, Kunshi ayayuki ni chikayorazu ['The superior man does not
needlessly expose himself to peril']; and I must assure you, Sir, that it
is very dangerous to sleep here. Therefore, although my house is only a
wretched thatched hut, let me beg of you to come home with me at once. In
the way of food, I have nothing to offer you; but there is a roof at least,
and you can sleep under it without risk."


He spoke earnestly; and Kwairyo, liking the kindly tone of the man,
accepted this modest offer. The woodcutter guided him along a narrow path,
leading up from the main road through mountain-forest. It was a rough and
dangerous path,-- sometimes skirting precipices,-- sometimes offering
nothing but a network of slippery roots for the foot to rest upon,--
sometimes winding over or between masses of jagged rock. But at last