"So this was thy religious fervour, praying so often at the temple!" exclaimed the angry farmer. "Take heed, thou silly wench, or I will punish thee, and grievously. What! A cur can bark loudly before its own gate, and I can defend my own. Once for all, no more of the lord Sampei, or it will go ill with thee. Banish from thy feather-pate idle worship of thy betters." The mien of Koshiu was so stern and threatening, that though words of indignant protest rose to her lips, the girl was silent. "What if he were prevailed upon to intercede for us?" mused Rokubei. "He is as generous as brave--no doubt of that. My lord, after his brother's career of victory, could scarce refuse him a favour." "Five years bring about great changes," growled the farmer. "Five years ago Hojo No-Kami was no worse than others of his rank. You will never persuade me that aught of good is to be found in a Hojo, legitimate or otherwise. Enough of him. Go on with your story of the elders." "They were received, as I told you, at the outer gate with blows and curses. Had they not fled, murder would have been done, for a posse of samurai rushed out of the guardhouse, like devils, brandishing pikes. Disconcerted, grieved, and bruised, they returned to their inn to consult. Was the journey to go for nothing? Were they to return like beaten dogs, without even seeing my lord? Peradventure face to face with him something might yet be done, and his hard heart softened by their dismal catalogue of woe. They plumed their ruffled feathers, therefore, and lay in wait, and when he rode forth citywards, emerged from a clump of trees, and kneeling humbly in the dust, presented their petition. He took it, and, grinding his teeth with eyes aflame, turned savagely to his attendants. "'Remove these wretches!' he thundered, 'who by persistent insolence have deserved more than death. By-and-by will I pass judgment on them. Torment shall reward their temerity.'" A silence of dismay followed the elder's narrative. Koshiu was surely right--his deep hate justified. It seemed that the existing Hojo was worse than any of his ancestors--and so young too! What a gloomy future for unhappy fatherland! What a sunless roll of years! "The land is ripe for revolt, if we could find a leader we could trust," observed Zembei, who had been nursing his knees in silence. "The other lords are weary of the Hojo, but unfortunately jealous of each other. If they would bury for a time their private feuds, things might yet come right. He who ventures not within the den, will never take the cub." "There is no trusty leader, except the victorious General, himself a Hojo!" added the other elder. "Buddha has forgotten us. The case is beyond mortal settling. There is left for us nothing but to die." Here was a dismal and unsatisfactory conclusion to the debate, and it seemed that there was no other, for each with dolorous visage eyed his neighbour, with nothing more to say.