It struck him on the elbow. Must have hit his funny-bone, I guess, for he didn’t act quite so happy and began rubbing the spot.
“For that,” says he, “I shall make a spanking on you when you are caught.”
“It might as well be a good spanking,” says I, and let him have another.
“F-f-fire volleys,” says Mark Tidd from way up above.
Binney and I tried it. I’d call, “Shoot,” and we’d both let go. Plunk, too. It worked fine. Mark began to shoot, too, and you know what a shot he was with the sling. Well, sir, we stopped them. The men at the oars turned and grumbled something to their commander. He said something back, but they shook their heads. He stopped smiling and spoke louder in Japanese. Now he wasn’t smiling, but you could see his teeth just the same. His eyes were half shut and glinting, and he leaned forward like he was going to leap.
The men were more afraid of him than they were of getting hurt, for they picked up their oars once more.
“I’ll t-t-take the commander,” says Mark. “You three ’tend to the rowers.”
Mark shot fast, and every pebble struck. I could see them spat against The Man. They were only about thirty feet away now and shooting was easy. We shot faster than ever. Spat, spat, spat, spat, went the pebbles. Mark had The Man fidgeting good and plenty, and we had the poor rowers about as uncomfortable as men can be.
At last it got to be too much for The Man himself, and when the rowers stopped again he said something, and they turned the boat and began to retreat. We helped them.
“Ain’t goin’ to spank me to-day, be you?” says I to The Man.