“Let’s try her,” says I.
We did, and the stairs came up as easy as falling off a log—just raised up against the floor above, and didn’t leave a thing to come up on. We lowered them again and braced them with two-by-fours. After that we fixed the stairs between the third and second floors the same way.
“I guess we’ll be pretty d-d-difficult to get at up here,” says Mark. And I thought so, too.
“Bring the lances,” says Mark. And I got them and put them handy at the top of the first stairway.
“Now,” says he, “barrin’ a surprise, we’re in pretty good shape.”
When we were all through we were pretty tired and sat down on the ground under the spruce-trees to rest. Mark had a book and I got out a Boston paper we had brought with us. It was pretty nearly a week old, but I figured there might be something interesting in it, for all that.
I sort of browsed around in it without finding anything to get excited about, till I came to the third or fourth page, but there was a little piece about two inches long that told how the Japanese minister to the United States had taken a summer place at Fullington in the State we were in, and was planning to stay there till the 1st of September. It told a little about the house and grounds, but that wasn’t so interesting.
“Mark,” says I, “listen.” And I read it to him. “Do you s’pose Motu’s got anythin’ to do with him?” I whispered it so Motu wouldn’t hear. He was a dozen feet off and dozing, anyhow.
“Somehow,” says Mark, “I b’lieve this would be as much news to Motu as it is to us.”
“Funny thing,” says I, “that the Japanese minister would be in this State, and that Motu would be here, and that five other Japs would be if there wasn’t some connection.”