They were almost on to us now. The fort was at the top step. Plunk jumped to the far side and began jabbing like all-git-out with his lance.
“Good b-boy,” says Mark; and then those Japanese just boiled out from behind their fort and came at us. We kept Motu behind and fought the best we could. If it hadn’t been for our lances we wouldn’t have lasted long, but we kept together in a knot so they couldn’t get behind us, and everlastingly poked them with the padded ends of our weapons.
Finally a man dropped sudden to his knees and dived under. He grabbed Plunk and they went to the floor together and rolled over and over, Plunk trying to get away, the man trying to hold him.
“Through the door, quick!” Mark yelled. He knew Plunk wouldn’t suffer much damage, but we couldn’t afford to lose another man by the same tactics, and we couldn’t rescue Plunk. So we jumped backward through the door and just had time to slam it in their faces. We didn’t get it to stay shut, though, so we could lock it. For the next five minutes it was a question of strength. They pushed in and we pushed out. But there were five of them to four of us and we were boys. Little by little they forced us back until one of them squeezed through.
We had to give back then. The hall was so narrow only two of us could fight abreast, and the luck fell to Mark and Binney. Motu and I got as close behind as we could and used our lances whenever we got a chance. It was pretty hot work, I can tell you. Then Binney turned his ankle and fell, and before he could scramble up the enemy had him.
Now there were just three of us, and they forced us back step by step. The hall was long and narrow. There was no chance to take us on the flank, so they had to come straight on, but they seemed willing enough. Now it was just a matter of time. Pretty soon they would push us back to the end of the hall and close in on us, and we would be done for. After that Motu would be theirs and we would have stood the siege in vain.
Don’t think the Japanese were having a pleasant time, for they weren’t. A boxing-glove can’t really hurt you, but it can muss you up a lot, and a good stiff punch will make you see stars. I’ll bet there wasn’t a man in the lot of them that hadn’t seen a whole Fourth of July of fireworks. But they meant business. Nothing could stop them, and on they fought.
Then, before I realized how far we had gone, I backed slam into Motu, who was jammed against the wall. It was our last stand, and we made it a good one. It wasn’t long before they had us wedged so tight we couldn’t wiggle, and then hands grabbed me. It was all over. Of course I thrashed around the best I could, and I expect the others were doing the same, but it wasn’t long before they had me good and fast. It wasn’t any use to struggle, so I laid quiet, feeling pretty tired and sore and sorry. And then—and then, would you believe me; but I heard a sound that sent the life and courage back into me with a jump.
“Listen, Mark!” I yelled.
“I heard it, Tallow,” says he.