"This is what I was looking for, master," said the General, showing him the yawning hole. "Do you think now that I was right not to leave the fortress?" The Shogun was dumb with surprise at the sight of the danger he had run. "Not another man shall leave that tunnel alive!" cried the General. "But they will escape at the other end," said Fide-Yori. "You were surprised just now at Aroufza's inaction on the plain. He was waiting for the best part of the hostile army to enter this passage, that he might close the door on them." "Then they are lost!" said the Shogun. "Forgive me, bravest of my warriors, for having doubted you one moment. But why did you not tell me what was going on?" "Master," said the General, "there are spies everywhere: they are in the fortress, in your palace, in my chamber. One word overheard, and they were warned. At the least alarm, the bird I hoped to catch would have flown." The enemy had now ceased coming from the tunnel. "They fancy they can escape," said Yoke-Moura; "they will return when they find that their retreat is cut off." Soon, in fact, cries of distress were heard. They were so heartrending that Fide-Yori shuddered. "Unhappy wretches!" he muttered. Their situation was horrible indeed; in that narrow passage, where two men could barely move abreast, where it was hard to breathe, those desperate soldiers, mad with fear, pushed and crushed each other in the darkness, frantic fur light at any cost, even were it the light of night, which would have seemed brilliant to them in comparison with that ill-omened gloom. A terrible shove forced several men out of the tunnel, only to fall upon the swords of the enemy. Amid their shrieks were heard confused cries:-- "Mercy! we surrender." "Open! let us out." "No," said Yoke-Moura; "no pity for such traitors as you. I repeat, you have dug your own tomb." The General ordered stones and earth to be brought, to fill up the opening. "Desist, I entreat you!" said Fide-Yori, pale with emotion; "those cries tear my heart. They only ask to surrender. Take them prisoners; that will suffice." "You need not entreat me, master," said Yoke-Moura; "your wishes are my commands. Hollo there!" he added, "stop your noise; you are pardoned; you may come out." The howls were redoubled. It was impossible to get out. The frightful crowding had suffocated many of the men, whose corpses blocked the mouth of the passage; they formed a solid rampart, increased with every instant, and impassable. All must perish; their struggles shook the ground; they trod one another down, bit one another; their swords pierced each the other's side; their armor was broken with their bones; they died amidst the blackest darkness, stifled in a sepulchre too narrow for their bodies. All attempts to clear away the mouth of the tunnel were vain. "What an awful thing war is!" exclaimed Fide-Yori, hastening away, entirely overcome. Soon the cries became less frequent; then utter silence was restored.