“A favor? Will Zadok Biggs do a favor for Marcus Aurelius! Anything, even to the half of my kingdom, as the kings in the Bible used to say. I am yours. Command me!”
“It ain’t much. Just take this jack-knife to Uncle Ike Bond, the bus driver. Give it to him and say it’s from me.”
“Why,” says Zadok, surprised, “what’s this.” He was disappointed, likely, at the littleness and commonness of the favor Mark asked. Then his long, lean face lightened up and he slapped his leg again. “I perceive—understand is the word in general use. It is a token, a signal. Excellent! You are coming up to my expectations. Now who would have expected this?” He leaned over so far Mark thought he’d fall off the wagon, and stared at him so admiringly that Mark blushed. “A remarkable lad,” Zadok went on. “My friend for life. Will I deliver the knife? Will I? Will Zadok Biggs? Just pass it up to me and see.”
Mark handed up the knife, and Zadok shoved it into his pocket. Then he shook the lines and waked up his horse, who had taken the opportunity to go to sleep, and started off. “I will hasten—hurry is the less dignified word. Uncle Ike Bond shall have the knife. I shall say it comes from Marcus Aurelius, who knows an opportunity when he sees it. Good-by. Remember Zadok Biggs. He is your friend for life. Remember him.”
We both felt a little easier in our minds with the message sent to Uncle Ike. Of course we couldn’t tell how long he might be coming to us, for sometimes he had to drive folks into the country, and sometimes he was off fishing, so it was possible Zadok Biggs would have considerable bother finding him. But we knew he’d come sometime, and that was better than not having any hope at all.
“Well,” says Mark, “we might as well do somethin’ while we’re waitin’.”
“Sure!” says I. “Let’s git up a game to pass away the time.”
Mark thought a minute. He was fine at getting up new games, because he had read so many histories and books of adventure. All he had to do was to remember some bully story, and right off he’d make a game out of it. “Let’s pertend,” says he, “that you and me are sentinels left to g-g-guard this treasure-cave. It’s got a jewel into it as big as your fist. We’ll make b’lieve the turbine is the jewel, and it is worth more’n a billion dollars. There was a party of us captured this jewel out of a heathen temple, and everybody but us had gone to git help. We’re bein’ pursued by the heathens, and they’ve found us here, and right this minute they’re besiegin’ us. How’s that?”
“Fine,” says I. “I kin see more’n fifty of ’em a-sneakin’ around down among the trees and rocks. Looks to me like they was gittin’ ready to make a charge.”
“We got to git am-am-munition. If our supply gives out we’d be easy prey for em.”