Some day this interesting quadruped may be considered too antiquated in the pitiless glare of the progressive present, and, ashamed of itself for being a hoax so long, slink away into oblivion. But it cannot be supplanted by a real one, so long as it forms an important part of the pageantry of the hanamichi, when resplendent daimyo ride in state through the audience in the midst of the little boxes crammed with their human occupants craning their necks to see the passing show. It would be hard to imagine Kabuki without its devoted kurombo, or property man. Concealed from head to foot in black, the face covered by a flap, which he seldom raises except in an emergency, the kurombo (lit., black-man) serves the stage unselfishly, claiming no recognition, pleased to put his own personality completely in the background; withal he is a most important personage. The variety of his tasks gives him an entire familiarity with the stage. He is a super-actor and stage-manager, entrusted with the smooth running of the performance, responsible for a hundred details, and yet remains the humble menial of the theatre. A queer profession it seems, to flit about the stage so unobtrusively that the audience is not aware of his presence; yet always engaged in making inanimate objects significant. He holds a piece of silver paper on the end of a long pole and a fish jumps before the eyes of the audience. Hiding behind a thicket of bamboo, he causes the long feathery plumes to sway in a wind storm. The pendant branches of the weeping willow are suddenly agitated by the kurombo in anticipation of some ghostly event, or he squats down behind a clump of grass making it shiver to reveal the concealment place of some desperate character about to come forth. What magic he effects by means of his long pliable rod! At one time butterflies flutter from the end, or a white moth is suspended over the face of a sleeping man near a white paper lantern, awakening him in time that he may protect himself from danger. It is the kurombo who causes snakes to glide upon the scene and wriggle in the most realistic manner, while cats, rats, and even crabs make their appearance at the psychological moment at his bidding. Sometimes he remains so quiet that he appears to be nodding or napping, but the next moment bounds away accomplishing his purpose. Always on the alert, he watches for sliding screens that do not open, or gates that are about to topple over, and holds up a curtain that a dead man may disappear since he is no longer needed on the stage. By a dexterous touch behind, he changes the neutral costume of an actor to one all gold and silver, or gives the right tug that brings the long hair of a distraught heroine all dishevelled about her.