“Huh!” says I. “Funny way to be actin’.”
Mark didn’t say anything, but gave me a shove over the ditch into the underbrush.
“They heard something comin’,” says he, “and d-ducked because they didn’t want to be seen. Now I know they don’t work around here, and I’m pretty sure they came here for some purpose. They don’t want folks to know they’re here, that’s what’s the matter with them. They know folks in this part of the country would get curious if they saw a couple of Japanese wanderin’ about.”
“I wish,” says I, “that I could get that dagger out of my head. It ain’t a pleasant thing to think about when you’re out here in the woods with two full-grown Japanese a-hidin’ close by.”
Mark grinned a little. “We figgered on a n-n-nice, quiet summer,” says he.
“Looks like we weren’t the kind of folks that get quiet summers,” says I. “We hain’t had one lately.”
In five minutes a rickety old farm-wagon came along. It was what scared the Japanese out of the road, all right. We didn’t show ourselves. It went banging past, and, as soon as it was safe, we poked out our heads. The Japanese weren’t in sight. We waited, but they didn’t come. We waited some more, and some more after that, but not another sign did we see of them. It didn’t give you a pleasant feeling, I can tell you. We didn’t know where they might be sneaking in the woods behind us.
“I’m goin’ back to the boat,” says I, “and I’m goin’ to row out into the middle of the lake. It’s safe there. Nobody can crawl up on you when you ain’t lookin’.”
Mark grinned again. “That s-s-sounds good to me,” says he. “I’ve got a creepy feelin’ at the back of my neck myself.”