To that the soul travelled, halting once and again on the hill-tops to strip off the green leaves in which the mourners had clad it.

Here and there by the wayside some lingering ghost would tie a knot in the ribbon-like leaves of the flax plant--such knots as foreigners hold to be made by the whipping of the wind.

As the souls gathered at their goal, nature's sounds were hushed.

The roar of the waterfall, the sea's dashing, the sigh of the wind in the trees, all were silenced.

At the Spirits' Leap on the verge of a tall cliff grew a lonely tree, with brown, spreading branches, dark leaves and red flowers.