“There is an island fair, set in an eastern sea; There is a maid keeping her tryst with me, In the shade of the palm, with a lover’s delight, Where it’s always the golden day or the silvery night-- ... My star will be shining, love, For you in the moonlight calm, So be waiting for me by the eastern sea In the shade of the shelt’ring palm.” “That’s just the point--her star’ll be shining--only, it may not,” Finacune whispered. Feeney disdained to answer. Presently Major Inuki appeared again and announced guilelessly: “Gentlema’--my dear fren’s, our gen’ral express himself prepare to greet your illustrious peersonages--one and every one--in his quarters at once. Would you be deigned to follow my poor leadership?” “Holy Father!--where’s my dress-suit?” Feeney asked with a start. “Such an honor does not increase our chances for watching the next battle at close-range,” observed Finacune. Nookie-san led them through the dust past innumerable battalions, until on a rising trail the sentries became as thick as fire-flies. After a twenty-minute walk they reached the summit of a commanding hill. At the entrance of a large tent paper-lanterns were hung, and below in the light Kuroki’s staff was gathered. Felicitations endured for several moments; then an inspired hush dominated all. The flap of the tent was drawn aside, and a small, gray-haired man of stars emerged stiffly. His eyes were bent toward the turf and thus he stood motionless beneath the lanterns for several seconds. “General Kuroki,” spoke Inuki in a low voice. The general raised his eyes for just an instant--great, tired, burning, black eyes with heavy rolled lids--bowed slightly, then backed into the tent. “Now, there’s a man with no carnal lust in him,” Feeney commented to his companion. “He has commanded his wife and family not to write him from Japan, lest their letters distract attention from his work at hand.” “And he drowned a thousand men crossing the Yalu,” remarked Finacune. Bingley passed them with the remark, “I wonder if God has the dignity of Kuroki?” * * * * * Long afterward, when silence and stars lay upon the hills, there was still a low whispering in the tent of Feeney and Finacune. “I wonder where the great frieze coat is this night?” came with a yawn from the old man. “God knows,” Finacune replied. “Alone in the dark somewhere--unearthing great tales to be printed under a strange name. If any one finds them, it will be Dartmore, and his roots will wither because they are not in the _Review_. Or----” The little man halted suddenly. He had been about to add that a woman was apt to find them. Instead he said, “Alone in the dark somewhere, hiding from the wrath of the world--unless somebody’s hunted him down to tell him that he’s clean and desirable again.” “I’d like to see the great frieze coat this night,” said Feeney in a listless tone, as if he had not listened to the other.