"Speaking of things educational," Dawson said to keep the conversation alive, "what do you know about Singapore, anyway?"
"Ask me, and find out, my little man," Freddy said with a little wave of his hand.
Dave dragged down the corners of his mouth, and squinted at his pal.
"A smart guy, huh?" he grunted. "Okay, I will ask you a few things. First, what does Singapore mean?"
"Don't you know?" Freddy retorted.
"Come on, none of that stuff!" Dave cried. "Stop crawling, young man. Tell teacher, or else admit you're dumb. What does Singapore mean?"
"Singapore means nothing!" Freddy shot at him. "It is the modern spelling of the city's real name centuries ago. Then it was Singhapura. That is a Sanskrit word that means City of the Lion."
Dave made a mock bow and went through the motions of tipping his hat.
"Well, knock me over with a Flying Fortress!" he exclaimed. "I guess the guy did spend two or three years in school. Okay, tell me some more, sonny."
"It's rather a nice sort of place, if you go in for that sort of place," Freddy said gravely. "It is an island, of course. It was picked as a British navy outpost by a Sir Stafford Raffles many, many years ago. It covers about two hundred and sixteen square miles and it guards the trade routes to the Indian Ocean. It is very well fortified, and any nation who tries to take it away from us is going to have a battle on his hands, I can tell you. The city is built...."