“Wish I knew.... If there was s-s-some way of doin’ it I’d send word to the minister at Fullington, and l-let him do what he wanted to. I wouldn’t say anythin’ to Motu about it.”
“But you can’t.”
“It l-looks that way. If you’re right and the Japanese have gone, then there ain’t any need to send. If they h-haven’t gone—and I don’t much think they have—why, they wouldn’t let a messenger get past.”
“Correct,” says I.
“But,” says he, “we m-m-might as well get ready to take advantage of anythin’ that h-happened.”
“How?” says I.
“By gettin’ the m-m-message all ready to send,” says he.
He went mogging off into the citadel where he had some paper and ink and stamps to write to his folks with, and there he sat down and wrote a letter.
The Minister from Japan [it began].
Dear Sir,—Are you interested in a Japanese boy named Motu, who owns a short sword with things carved on the blade of it? He is a Samurai, I guess. Anyhow, he talks about them. He is here in an old hotel on Lake Ravona with four American boys. They are besieged by five Japanese men who want to capture Motu. So far we have beaten them. The leader of the enemy is a Japanese man who wears one round eyeglass and carries a cane and wears a Bankok hat and dresses like a dude. He is dangerous, all right. If you are interested you had better hurry along, because things are getting pretty shaky. I never wrote to any Japanese ministers before, so I hope this letter has not done any harm.