there was nothing he could do. But as the lieutenant was insistent, he agreed at last to go and find two escorts. Guarded by them, the lieutenant set off to claim protection at a guard-house in the neighbourhood.
The sergeant-major in charge was thoroughly scared, because as the mob increased in numbers and daring every minute. They were already hurling showers of stones at the guard-house, which was really only a private house, and with their battle-cries making it tremble as if another earthquake had come. Terrified of getting himself embroiled, the sergeant-major speedily despatched the lieutenant, accompanied by a guard of six men, to the police station.
At the police station, when they learned his rank, they were very regretful and straightway hauled out one of the mob who seemed to be ringleader and brought him before the lieutenant. The lieutenant turned to him and asked what he meant by trying to assault him. The ringleader answered proudly that he was the nephew of a general, and accused Kusama of being a bogus lieutenant. Finally, the proofs of his identity which Kusama produced proved too strong, and the man left the police station somewhat crestfallen. The mob, too, robbed of its sensation, melted away.
Under the protection of two guards, the lieutenant reached home at four o’clock in the morning, just as the forms of trees and houses were coming back to life in the faint light of dawn.
This experience taught our lieutenant many things. First and foremost, he was surprised at the
