The congestion in the traffic of the Tokaido Railroad was soon relieved; a shrill whistle from one of the officials--and immediately the wheels were again in motion and the patient Japanese were once more on their way to their waiting trains. “A Japanese crowd has no terrors for the public officials,” Lieutenant Winston said by way of information, as he and the midshipmen settled themselves in one of the compartments of the tiny coaches of the train. “In Japan discipline begins at the mother’s knee. Filial obedience is part of their religion, and they are taught to obey their Emperor as the father of them all.” “I have always heard that they are classed among the best fighters in the world,” Phil Perry said admiringly. “The fighting man with them is in a class by himself. Isn’t it so?” he asked the older officer at his side. “The ‘Samurai,’ or fighting class, is the aristocracy of Japan,” Winston replied. “They symbolize the fighting barons of our middle ages; quick to resent an insult or avenge a wrong. Their code of honor is centuries old. These are the men you will meet in Tokyo. The naval and military officers are all recruited from the families of the ‘Samurai.’ You will see in them the most polite of a polite nation.” “What is the object of the ‘Alaska’s’ visit to Japan?” Sydney Monroe suddenly asked as Winston ended his eulogy on the Japanese race. “Our relations are not over friendly, if we can believe some of our yellow journal newspapers.” “That is not to be discussed except within an air-tight cell,” Winston returned gravely, a warning ring in his voice. “We are here on a friendly visit to be present at the garden fête of the Emperor of Japan.” Meanwhile the train had glided out of the long, low station shed and picked its way over a score of tracks to the one leading straight to the metropolis and capital of the island empire. Stations, consisting of miniature structures with their long, narrow platforms came noisily out of the world ahead and were left behind with a waning moan as if in protest at being given but a fleeting glimpse of the big strangers. The conversation had come to an abrupt stop after Lieutenant Winston’s words of caution and the three Americans sat silently gazing out of their open windows at the ever-changing landscape. The sailors with their Japanese escorts were in the cars ahead where they were leaning far out of the windows, excitedly acknowledging the “banzais” from the groups of peasants who had collected on the station platforms to see the Americans pass.