“That sounds good,” says Mark. “We don’t want any d-damage done. But s’posin’, just s’posin’ we couldn’t get around to givin’ up any Japanese boys to-day? What if we wanted a Japanese boy ourselves? What then?”
“Then,” says the man, “my friends and I myself shall take the boy. We shall come across by bridge or otherwise, as the case may be. We cannot be cautiously careful to hurt anybody, can we? No. It would not be certainly possible. So we come. Then you look out. Eh?” He grinned and swung his little stick just as if he was a summer visitor chatting pleasant about the weather.
“Now you l-listen,” says Mark, “and you’ll hear some facts. There’s a Japanese boy here, and his name’s Motu.” At that the man looked sort of surprised and turned to squint at Motu like he didn’t quite understand. “Also,” says Mark, “we owe that boy consid’able of a debt. We’re the debt-payin’ kind. Now, then, here’s Motu. If you want him, mister, come and get him. That’s f-final.”
“Good,” says the man. “Now we know, do not we? Each knows the other’s intention that he hopes to do. That makes it better. Good day to everybody.”
“Good day,” says Mark, “and if I was you I’d think it over a little before I started m-m-makin’ a landin’ on this shore. It’s a hot shore and l-likely to burn your feet.”
The man turned with the politest kind of a bow, and walked away as jaunty as the tenor in the Wicksville choir.
“Quick!” says Mark. “One of you get around to the other side of the citadel to see if anythin’s happenin’.” You see, he’d been suspicious that the man hadn’t come just to talk, but to keep us interested while he tried something where we couldn’t see. And Mark was right.
Plunk and I scooted around where we could see the other side, and there, about thirty feet off, was a Jap hanging on to a short log with one arm, and paddling toward us as fast and as quietly as he could. He didn’t see us.
“What’ll we do?” says Plunk.
“Splash him a little,” says I. “No need to hurt him, but make him think he’s goin’ to get a good swat on the head.”