“Huh!” says Plunk, “it looks like we did a lot of work for nothin’. It’s all right to pretend, but here we’ve up and lugged about a ton of grub over here where we don’t want it.”
It did look as if Plunk was right, but now I come to think it over I don’t know just how much Mark was pretending, and how much he was carrying out a plan he had in his head, and took that way to do it without getting the rest of us frightened. Mark always took the easiest and best and safest way to do things. Before we got away from Lake Ravona we were mighty glad Mark pretended we were going to be attacked that day, I can tell you, and we were mighty thankful he moved all that store of food across to the building on the island. If he hadn’t done that I don’t know how we would have come out, but, anyhow, we’d have had a pretty hard time of it, and a close shave.
“Now,” says Mark, “l-lets get back to mending the navy.”
I got up and stretched, and looked over toward the door. I happened to remember that Mark had left the dagger on a shelf right alongside the door, and without thinking I looked for it.
“Mark,” says I, startled, “did you take the dagger?”
“No,” says he, quick-like. “Why?”
“Look where you put it,” says I.
Everybody looked. The dagger was gone. Yes, sir. It was gone right from in under our very eyes. Whoever was infesting the hotel had sneaked right up to us and got his weapon in broad daylight. It made us feel pretty cheap—and not very comfortable.
“Fine!” says Mark. “Next t-t-time I capture the enemy’s weapons I guess I’ll know enough to keep them s-s-safe.”
You see he took the blame himself. That was his way, too. He wanted praise when it was due, but he never dodged the blame when blame was coming.