It was the palace of Daimio Oda Yorimoto,
Lord of Yoka, as his ancestors had christened their new island
home.
Once within the warren the two samurai who had guarded
Barbara upon the march turned and withdrew--she was
alone with Oda Yorimoto and his family. From the center of
the room depended a swinging shelf upon which a great pile
of grinning skulls rested. At the back of the room was a door
which Barbara had not at first noticed--evidently there was
another apartment to the dwelling.
The girl was given little opportunity to examine her new
prison, for scarce had the guards withdrawn than Oda Yorimoto
approached and grasped her by the arm.
"Come!" he said, in Japanese that was sufficiently similar to
modern Nippon to be easily understood by Barbara Harding.
With the word he drew her toward a sleeping mat on a raised
platform at one side of the room.
One of the women awoke at the sound of the man's voice.
She looked up at Barbara in sullen hatred--otherwise she
gave no indication that she saw anything unusual transpiring.
It was as though an exquisite American belle were a daily
visitor at the Oda Yorimoto home.
"What do you want of me?" cried the frightened girl, in
Japanese.
Oda Yorimoto looked at her in astonishment.
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