"Why do you ask; have I ever denied you, my boy?" "Oh; I had another thought in mind." "It had been better, were it a view." "I don't just like, so very much, fighting in the dark; but, as it may take the enemy some time to obliterate Maeda--and the rest of them, the sneaking daimyos' lines--I may not have to expose myself, till daylight, at best," surmised Hidetada, the Taira-wed branch of the family, descended Minamoto. Ieyasu made no answer; he could not, had he tried; Yodogima rose to mind, and he thought only of what might have been, had he but taken advantage of Hideyoshi's bluffing, long ago, at Fuchu, the elder Maeda's once upon a time seat of true chivalry. Esyo had in fact, as observed, exercised an influence over her husband: what might not the sister have done, had she been the mother. "Oh, well; it is too late, now," muttered the taiko's once trusted ally, giving the order, in reality, for an unrecallable, before-the-day-break assault; then staggering to the ground, helplessly, under the weight of his own remorseful thirst, as he did the quenchless deed. "Stab; yes, stab her, too!" And Yodogima answered, that final test, as became a weaker hand, if stronger heart. Fog clouds hung low, the darkness grew intense, and these men could scarcely see their way; dread uncertainty had laid hold on shrivelled hearts; Maeda's advance groped its way round the hill Sasayama; Maeda and some few others climbed up. "Where is he?" asked they, of one another; "these grounds seem deserted." "Hark!" ventured someone. "Did you hear that snore?" inquired another. "It is Sanada; he sleeps; over there; at the outer castle gate; let us strike him; he is foolish." They stumbled forward, in the darkness, and coming upon a man propped against a stake. Date prodded him; this daimyo had been doing similar service since the days of Odawara. "What are you doing here; do you not know that we are enemies?" inquired Mori, another of Hideyoshi's upon-a-time staunch supporters. "I wait to see, that we make no mistake; we have some farmers' arrows to shoot with, but would do no harm, to a friend." "Hear you," said they, all alike, one to another, "he makes sport, in the face of danger; avenge our good name, Maeda, and let us make short work of the rest. Did you hear what he said? They 'have some farmers' arrows'--a pretty weapon to use against such as we! Spread the word, and we'll scale those walls before a soul of them has half finished sleeping." Junkei therefore paid the penalty, without resistance; he had truly slept his sleep, for it was he and not Sanada who snored those daimyos to their doom.