We went on the railroad, back toward Muroran, leaving the train at Tomakomai, about midway between Sapporo and Muroran. Mr. Batchelor had telegraphed ahead and a _basha_ was waiting for us at the station. A _basha_ is a queer, little, four-wheeled, covered cart, drawn by two of the small and shaggy Japanese horses. A cross-seat in front serves for the driver, and two lengthwise seats within are for passengers, who enter the vehicle from behind by a single, central, iron step. The _basha_ is expected to carry six passengers, three on each seat, and the fare is charged for six, whether there is a single person or a full load. By the time we three were in, with our lunch basket, camera, luggage, etc., it would have been difficult for others to have found a place. Though it was chilly, the snow was thawing and before we had gone far, we really had no snow at all. From the station, we struck straight for the sea, riding over a low, flat, country, chiefly grass-grown, though with trees here and there. As we neared the coast, the road became actually sandy. From the open end of the _basha_, behind us, we had fine views of the pretty volcano Tarumai. The air was clear and the graceful, white-covered, mountain stood sharply against the sky. A great deal of vapor was escaping from it and the constant changes in the form and size of the white clouds of it, that hung at the crater until blown away, were curious to watch. When we reached the sea we turned abruptly to the left, losing the volcano view, and rode in long straight stretches, parallel to the coast, behind and below the line of low dunes. We passed, now and again, little groups of fishing huts and miniature _torii_, gateways to wee Shinto shrines. We reached Yubutsu, where we dismounted and walked along the sandy coast to stretch our legs and warm our bodies. When, after changing horses, the _basha_ came along again, we remounted. At Azuma we spent the night in a Japanese inn, where Mr. Batchelor has a European room and a stove. His lunch-basket pieced out our supper, as it did all our subsequent meals, in a marvellous way. Azuma was full of soldiers as “the reserves” were being called out and this was a local gathering place. [Illustration: GROUP OF AINU GRAVES.]