“’Tain’t likely a man from here would have such a weapon,” says Mark, “and ’tain’t likely anybody’d be prowlin’ around this hotel, and ’tain’t likely anybody’d be bendin’ over Tallow when he was asleep—but s-s-some of those things are facts, ain’t they? Well? I’ll bet that if there’s a d-d-dagger from Asia here there’s a man from Asia with it.”
“And an animal from Asia, too?” I asked, because there was some kind of a beast with whoever was skulking around last night.
“I wouldn’t be s’prised to s-s-see a two-humped camel off of the Desert of Sahara,” says Mark.
“It wasn’t a camel,” I says. “It was too little.”
“It don’t matter if it was the old crocodile of the Nile,” says Plunk, “we’ve got to finish up those boats.”
So we took along the dagger and crossed the little bridge to the boat-house. Mark put the dagger on a shelf just inside the door, and we all rolled up our sleeves and went to work.
“I wish I knew what it was,” Binney said, after a while.
“You don’t d-d-differ much from the rest of us on that point,” says Mark.
“Then,” says Binney, “why don’t you figger out a scheme to discover?”
Mark grinned. He liked to be appreciated. You’ll notice Binney didn’t ask me nor Plunk to think up a scheme. No, sir, it was Mark he asked. And Mark was pleased. He wasn’t the least bit swell-headed, but he did like to have credit for what he did and for the kind of brains he had. He deserved it, too. I don’t suppose there are a dozen boys in the United States with just the kind of planning, scheming brain that Mark Tidd has. He’s always scheming. Just give him something to plot over and he’s happy. If there isn’t anything for him to plan about really he’ll imagine something. Funniest fellow you ever saw.