“Throw up your hands—you’re surrounded!” shouted the Dunce, pointing his gun towards them.
The wild men, not understanding the Teenie Weenie language, started running towards the Dunce with loud yells.
The poor Dunce was so badly frightened he forgot to fire his gun and turning about he ran as fast as his short legs could carry him towards the Teenie Weenie camp.
The army aviator, who happened to be scouting above the shore of the island, saw the Dunce being chased by the wild men.
“Quick!” he shouted to the bird on which he flew. “Fly just as close as you can to the Dunce and I’ll grab him as we sail by.”
The bird flew straight for the ground and holding tight to its neck, the aviator grabbed the Dunce by the collar and snatched him from the very hands of the wild men.
The Turk pulled the frightened Dunce up on the bird’s back and a few minutes later they landed safely in the Teenie Weenie camp.
“Well, sir,” said the General when he had heard the Turk’s story of the rescue, “what were you doing outside the camp without permission to go out?”
“I-I-I-I j-j-just wanted s-s-some excitement and I-I-I-I thought I’d go out and s-s-see if I-I-I couldn’t capture a wild man,” stammered the frightened Dunce.
“Well, did you capture any of them?” asked the General with a wink at the Old Soldier.