fiscation of our rented land. There is nothing in these demands that cannot be fulfilled.”
The banner of the union, on its bamboo pole, played long with wind on the summit of the pine tree.
VII
Thus it was that the Osawa Peasants’ Union was unexpectedly revived on that day by boys, old men and women. But none of them, neither old nor young, knew how and whom to fight.
One night the committee of the union, which consisted of the boys and five old men (including old Ogawa) met secretly in the house of Ozawa in Yotani, the place which was hidden best from the eyes of the police. There they held their inexperienced discussions.
“The revival of the provincial council of the Peasant Unions lies on our shoulders,” said Tetsu.
Old Ogawa had an idea:
“Let’s put up a tomb—no, a monument—in honour of the murdered Hamamato, next to Osawa’s house. They say that Hamamato’s funeral procession became a mass demonstration and that the police broke it up mercilessly. If we put up a monument, those scoundrels are sure to fall upon us, too. And they’re sure to break down our monument. But, never mind that, let us with our own hands make a wonderful monument here. Are our hands worth nothing?”
Everybody liked the idea.
The plans were soon drawn up. It was decided
