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SHORT ANSWER. Write the word or phrase that best completes each statement or answers the question.

1) Is this the graph of a function having the following

properties? (I) concave down for all x
(II) asymptotic to the line x = 0
Enter your answer as just the word "yes" or the word "no" (lower case)

Answer: yes

2) Is this the graph of a function having the following properties?

(I) defined for x ≥ -1
(II) horizontal asymptote at y =
3 (III) increasing for all x ≥ -1
Enter just the word "yes" or the word "no" (lower case).

Answer: yes

3) Is this the graph of a function having the following

1
properties? (I) asymptotic to the line y = x-1
2
(II) relative maximum at x = 0
Enter just the word "yes" or the word "no" (lower case).

1
Answer: yes

2
4) Is this the graph of a function having the following
properties? (I) x-intercept at x = -2
(II) absolute maximum at x = -1
(III) relative maximum at x =
1 (IV) concave up for x ≥ 2
Enter just the word "yes" or the word "no" (lower case).

Answer: yes

5) Is this the graph of the function having the following

properties? (I) inflection point at x = 3
(II) no relative maximum point
(III) asymptote at x = 5
Enter just the word "yes" or the word "no" (lower case).

Answer: yes

3
MULTIPLE CHOICE. Choose the one alternative that best completes the statement or answers the
question.

6) At which labeled point(s) is the function increasing?

y

B
A

E
C
F
D

x
A) A
B) C, F
C) A, E
D) E
Answer: C

7) At which labeled point(s) is the function decreasing?

y

B
A

E
C
F
D

x
A) C
B) A, E
C) C, F
D) F
Answer: C

4
8) At which labeled point(s) is the graph concave up?
y

B
A

E
C
F
D

x
A) C, D
B) C, D, E
C) C, E
D) D
Answer: D

9) At which labeled point(s) is the graph concave down?

y

B
A

E
C
F
D

x
A) A, F
B) A, B, F
C) B
D) A, B
Answer:
B

5
10) Which labeled point has the most positive slope?
y

B
A

E
C
F
D

x
A) E
B) B
C) A
D) F
Answer: A

11) Which labeled point has the most negative slope?

y

B
A

E
C
F
D

x
A) F
B) D
C) C
D) E
Answer: A

6
 12) Let F(x) be the function graphed below. For what value is F'(x) > 0?

A) x > p
B) x < 0 and x > p
C) p < x < q
D) 0 < x < q
E) none of these
Answer: A

SHORT ANSWER. Write the word or phrase that best completes each statement or answers the question.

13) Points A, B, and C lie on the graph of a function f(x), as shown on the diagram. What are the signs of f(x),
f'(x), and f''(x) at the point C? Enter your answer as just "neg", "pos", or 0 in the order given above
separated by commas.

Answer: pos, 0, neg

MULTIPLE CHOICE. Choose the one alternative that best completes the statement or answers the

question. Choose the graph of a function having the given properties.

14) Relative minimum points at x = 5 and x = 25; relative maximum point at x = 15; inflection points at x = 10
and x = 20.
A)
y

x
5 10 15 20 25

7
 B)
y

x
5 10 15 20 25
C)
y

x
5 10 15 20 25
D)
y

x
5 10 15 20 25
Answer: C

8
15) From x = 0 to x = 10 the function increases and the slope decreases. When x > 10 the function decreases
and the slope decreases (note: the slope is negative and becomes more negative).
A)
y

x
10

B)
y

x
10

C)
y

x
10

9
 D)
y

x
10

Answer: C

Solve the problem.

16) The population of squirrels in a certain forest is increasing. Let P(t) be the population of squirrels at time t
and suppose that P(t) has the line y = 300,000 as an asymptote. What does this imply about the size of the
population?
A) The population is 300,000 at any given time t.
B) The population will not drop below 300,000.
C) The population will grow to 300,000 then begin to drop.
D) The population will not rise above 300,000.
Answer: D

17) The graph below shows the price of a bushel of a certain crop over a span of 9 years. In what year was the
rate of price increase the least?

9.27

1.27

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

A) 2
B) 3
C) 8
D) 6
Answer: D

10
18) Which of the following graphs could represent a function with the following properties?
I. f(x) > 0, for x < 0
II. f ′(x) ≤ 0, for all x
III. f ′(0) = 0
A)

B)

C)

D) none of these
Answer: D

11
19) Which of the following graphs could represent a function having the given
properties? (I) asymptotes x = 2 and x = -2
(II) f''(x) > 0 for all x
(III) f(x) > 0 for all x > 4
A)

B)

C)

D)

Answer: B

12
20) Which of the following could represent a function having the given
properties? (I) increasing slope for x < 4
(II) f'(x) > 0 for all x (x ≠ 4)
(III) asymptote at x = 4
A)

B)

C)

D)

Answer: A

13
SHORT ANSWER. Write the word or phrase that best completes each statement or answers the question.

21) Is this the graph of a function having the following

properties ? (I) f(0) = -5
(II) f'(0) = 0
(III) f''(0) = 12
(IV) f( 7) = f(- 7) = -12
Enter your answer as just "yes" or "no" (lower case).

Answer: no

22) Is this the graph of a function having the following

properties? (I) f'(x) > 0 for all x
(II) f''(x) > 0 for all x < 0, f''(x) < 0 for x >0
π π
(III) asymptotes at y = , y = -
2 2
Enter your answer as just "yes" or "no" (lower case).

Answer: yes

14
 23) Is this the graph of a function having the following
properties? (I) f'(x) < 0 for all x
(II) f''(x) > 0 for all x < 0
(III) (0, 1) is a point on the graph
Enter your answer as just "yes" or "no" (lower case).

Answer: yes

MULTIPLE CHOICE. Choose the one alternative that best completes the statement or answers the

question. Solve the problem.

24) Using the following properties of a twice-differentiable function y = f(x), select a possible graph of
f.

x y Derivatives
x<2 y′ > 0, y′′ < 0
-2 11 y′ = 0, y′′ < 0
-2 < x < 0 y′ < 0, y′′ < 0
0 -5 y′ < 0, y′′ = 0
0< x<2 y′ < 0, y′′ > 0
2 -21 y′ = 0, y′′ > 0
x> 2 y′ > 0, y′′ > 0

A)
y
24

16

-4 -3 -2 -1 1 2 3 4 x
-8

-16

-24

15
Other documents randomly have
different content
 Motu and Binney came rolling and bumping down the bridge to
our side. The Japs stopped sudden, and one of them hauled out the
man who had fallen in.
“They—can’t—swim,” panted Motu.
So, for a while at least, we were safe. There wasn’t a boat on that
side, they couldn’t come anywhere near jumping across, and they
couldn’t do anything till they had figured out some scheme to cross
the water.
By this time Mark Tidd was down-stairs, working over Binney. He
knew all about first aid, and, by pumping and working Binney’s arms
and one thing and another, it wasn’t long before Binney showed
signs that he was alive. In half an hour he was able to sit up and
move around sort of feeble. It was the first second we had had time
to breathe.
Mark Tidd stood up and walked over to Motu with his hand out.
“Motu,” says he, “there ain’t any t-thanks that will do for a thing
like you did. It’s somethin’ that can’t ever be paid for by words, or
even by doin’ things. But I want to t-t-tell you, Motu, that—that none
of those Samurai in your country have got you beat. You’re as good
as the best of ’em, and some b-better. And one thing you can
depend on, and that is that this crowd’ll stick to you, and work for
you, and f-f-fight for you till they p-p-petrify.”
Motu smiled a proud, grateful sort of smile and took Mark’s hand.
“What you say is good. It makes me fill with pride. I am joyful your
Binney is safe, and I am joyful it was Motu who helped.”
“Now,” says Mark, “we’d better be gettin’ ready for business.”
I thought so, too. The Japs had disappeared behind the hotel. We
couldn’t see what they were up to, but we knew mighty well it was
something that wouldn’t be good for us.
The siege had begun.
 CHAPTER XII
There didn’t seem to be much of anything for us to do but wait till
the besiegers made the first move. It wasn’t as though we had a
strong garrison and could make sorties. The best we could hope for
was to beat off attacks. The odds weren’t so bad; five boys and a
dog against five Japanese men, but the odds were on their side, I
expect.
Of course they had to come to us, and they had to cross water to
do it. There were three ways of coming—by swimming, which Motu
said they couldn’t do; by boat, and they hadn’t any boat; or by raft,
which would be easy for them to make. They might make a bridge, I
suppose, and throw it across, but it didn’t seem likely. The thing we
had to look out for, then, was a raft.
Both of us had good generals. I’ve seen enough of Mark Tidd in
pinches to know that you can depend on his brain to do the best
thing there is to do, and from what Motu said, and from what we
had seen, The Man Who Will Come wasn’t to be sneezed at. If it
hadn’t been for him I wouldn’t have had much worry. But he was a
bad one!
While I was thinking about him what should he do but walk
around the corner of the hotel and call over to us from his side of
the moat.
“Good day to everybody,” says he.
“Same to you,” says Mark. “Hope you’re f-f-feelin’ well.”
“Oh, I am feeling splendidly well, very splendidly well, indeed. You
have pretty little bridges that go up in air with sudden
surprisingness,” says he, and grins again.
“We like it pretty well ourselves,” says Mark.
 “I am talking,” says The Man Who Will Come, “for purpose of
argument with you to lowering down the bridge from there.”
“We like it up p-p-pretty well.”
“Bridges are for walking across waters with dry feet. I would
desire to walk across this water shod-dry to you.”
“We get a good view of you where you are. If you came nearer
you m-m-might spoil the effect.”
“Have you seen little bad Japanese boy that goes running off
away from kind fathers and uncles?” says he, with another broad
grin.
I guess he was being sarcastic some.
“Japanese boy!” Mark pretended to look all over except where
Motu was standing. “I don’t calc’late to see any Japanese boy.”
“Of course certainly not. Why should you see Japanese boy? For
not any reason. Let us imagine to suppose there is no Japanese boy.
Eh?”
“I’m perfectly willin’.”
“Then if there is not any why do you have bridge up in the air, for
lighting on by birds?”
“We just put it up to see if it would w-w-work—and it did.” Mark
added that last with an aggravating kind of a grin, but the Jap
grinned right back.
“I have select friends together here with me. We take pleasure if
we can come across. We are anxious with desirability to come
across. I have lofely dispositions, but my friends, oh, I cannot tell.
Sometimes they become to get angry quickly. Do you see? If you
should not let to allow them on your bridge, I cannot say, no, I am
not informed, what it is they might do.”
“Huh!” says Mark. “If they’re so anxious to come, tell ’em to
swim.”
“We have made imaginings that there is no Japanese boy. Now let
us make imaginings there is one. Eh? So. That Japanese boy has
told you naughty things that are lie. Oh yes. But the truth is going
now to be told you. He is a bad boy, so very bad a boy. It is not
good for nice boys to have him close by and near to them. In his
own land there would be spanking on honorable pants for him
because he is so bad. Do you see to understand?”
“Sure,” says Mark. “We’re p-pretty average bad ourselves. I guess
your imaginary boy won’t do us any harm.”
The Man Who Will Come grinned again as good-natured and
friendly as possible.
“You do not know me,” says he. “I am of great determinations.
Certainly. When in my mind I say a thing must be done, then that
thing shall quickly be done without anybody bothering with a delay.
Am I clearly plain? Now there is no imaginings. There is talking out
straight from shoulders, as you say in this country. There stands
Japanese boy. Here I stand. I am come for that boy. Also I shall not
go away and depart without him. If you American boys pull down
and lower your bridge and give up the Japanese boy there shall be
no harm. Not the slightness of smallest.”
“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.”
I picked up a good-sized stone from the beach and heaved it. It
didn’t land more than two feet from the Jap, and it made an awful
splash. You can bet he quit paddling sudden and stuck up his head
to see what was going on. At that Plunk let a rock fly. It hit the log
just ahead of Mr. Jap and bounded off. Down went his head so
nothing but his nose showed, and he began to back away.
Well, sir! For three or four minutes we had enough fun with that
fellow to last us a week. We heaved rocks on every side of him, and
some of them close enough to make it pretty uncomfortable. We
could have hit him if we’d wanted to, but we didn’t. In the first
place, Mark Tidd wouldn’t have liked it, and in the second place we
wouldn’t have liked it ourselves. War’s war, but there’s no use doing
more damage than you have to do to get results. And we got them,
all right. That Jap had enough swimming on a log to last him.
 When he got to shore he floundered out, and the way he skinned
for shelter was enough to get a laugh out of a man that had just hit
his thumb with a hammer. We whizzed a couple more stones past
him and then gave the order to stop firing.
Mark said the scheme was to sneak a man on the island who
would creep around and cut the rope that held the bridge.
Well, that was the first skirmish, and we had come out on top. It
made us all feel pretty good, but all the same we realized there
hadn’t been much to it. We knew that before very long we’d have
more to do than shy rocks at a man in the water who couldn’t shy
back again.
All at once I remembered the canoe Binney had tipped over in. I
looked, and there it was, floating bottom side up, about thirty feet
from shore and in shallow water where anybody could wade out to
it. I didn’t wait for anybody to tell me, but just took a header off the
dock, clothes and all, and swam out into the lake. I knew better than
to swim right for that canoe, because that would attract attention to
it. But as soon as I thought it was safe I turned and swam for it
faster than I ever swam before in my life. When I was about twenty
feet from it I heard a yell and saw a Jap racing down from the hotel
to get to the canoe first. At the same time I heard another yell from
the citadel, and a rock whizzed past Mr. Jap. It didn’t stop him a bit,
though; he came right on. So did the rocks; and I shouldn’t be
surprised if this time Plunk and Binney were really trying to hit.
The Jap rushed into the water, and about that time I got my toe
on the bottom and splashed toward the canoe. He got to one end
just as I got to the other. I jerked and he jerked, but he was
strongest. For myself I wasn’t afraid, for whenever I wanted to I
could turn tail and swim to safety, but I didn’t want those men to
have that canoe, so I set my heels and tugged like a good one.
It wasn’t any good. Little by little he jerked me toward the shore,
and I was about ready to give up when I heard a sharp little spat,
and the Jap let out a squeal. Right after came another spat, and I
saw Mark Tidd taking aim with his slingshot. Now Mark was about
the best shot with a sling in Michigan. He let go the pebble, and,
mister, but it was a good shot! It plunked the Jap right on the hand.
He yelped and let go, and in that second I snatched the canoe away
from him and gave it a push toward deep water.

LITTLE BY LITTLE HE JERKED ME TOWARD THE SHORE

He recovered himself quick and jumped after it, but I had time to
give it another push, and that carried it out over his head.
“Ho!” says I. “Don’t you wish you’d learned to swim when you
was a boy?” He made a jump for me, mad as a hornet, but I knew a
trick worth two of that. I took the heel of my hand and just skipped
the top of the water with it. You know how to do it. It shoots a
shower into the other fellow’s face and blinds him for a minute. I
shot a couple into Mr. Jap’s face and then swam away without
hurrying over it.
In a second I caught up with the canoe and towed it to the
citadel, where we pulled it up on shore.
 “Tallow,” says Mark, “you’re p-promoted for gallantry under f-f-
fire, and for presence of mind in an emergency.”
That made me feel pretty good, for Mark don’t praise unless
praise is earned. Motu came over, too, and says:
“It was very well done. Some day you will be a leader of fighting-
men.”
I guess I blushed.
Mark walked around the place a couple of times to get the lay of
the land, I expect, though goodness knows he ought to have known
it by heart before. At any rate, he had looked it over enough.
So you will understand, I’ll tell you just how the citadel lay. Maybe
it would be best to furnish you with a little map of the hotel and the
island where the citadel was, for you can always tell better by a map
than any other way. So you’ll find a map alongside some place.
 The citadel was about fifty feet square and three stories high. The
back of it was built on spiles in the lake. One side was toward the
hotel, the other side faced out toward a sort of strait that connected
the two parts of the lake, and between the house and the water was
a little patch of land with some tall hemlocks on it. In front was
nothing but a dock about twenty feet broad. And there you are.
Mark came back with his plan for mounting guard in his head.
“It’ll be necessary to have t-t-two guards at once,” says he, “and
you’ll have to p-patrol regular beats. One beat will be from the
bridge around the front of the citadel to the end of the dock. The
other will be around the r-r-rim of the island from the dock to the
back end of the house. D-durin’ the day turns will be one hour long.
At night they’ll be t-three hours, so as to give each fellow a chance
to sleep a little betweentimes. There’s f-five of us, which will give
one man a chance to sleep all night every night and get r-r-rested
up.”
“How’ll we see at night?” says Plunk.
“F-fires,” says Mark. “We’ll b-build two good fires, one in front and
one back by the trees.”
“And what’ll the alarm be?” says Binney.
“Anythin’ ’ll be the alarm. Just make the n-noise you think of first.
So long’s it’s loud enough it’ll do all right.”
So far as I was concerned I guess nobody had any complaint to
make about my alarms. If they were as loud as I was scared every
time I had to make an alarm I’ll bet they were heard on the Pacific
coast. And I had to make them, too. Don’t forget about that. There
were alarms enough to satisfy anybody’s appetite.
 CHAPTER XIII
“I don’t see,” says I, “why we couldn’t just as well pile into a boat
and row to the far end of the lake. From there we could make tracks
for town and save all this bother.”
Mark Tidd just looked at me disgusted.
“How far is it to t-t-town?” says he.
“Ten miles,” says I.
“How m-much lead d’you think you’d get on the Japs by rowin’ to
the end of the lake?”
“Mile or so,” says I.
“Huh! Those men could run there ’most as fast as we could row.
We’d gain some, but in the t-t-ten miles to town they’d catch us, and
a f-fine chance we’d have.”
I guess he was right about it. We were safer where we were,
though I’d have liked more water between us than there was.
“Mr. Ames ought to be here in three days,” says Binney. “Then
Motu’ll be safe.”
“Yes,” says Mark, sarcastic-like. “I s’pose five Japs’ll be close to
scared to death of one lame old man. Why, Mr. Ames hasn’t as much
f-f-fight in him as any one of us.”
“But he might fetch somebody with him,” says Plunk.
“That’s what we’ve got to hope for,” says Mark. “The main thing
right now is to keep off the Japanese till Mr. Ames does come. Three
days is a l-long time.”
“Yes,” says I, “but it would be a heap longer if we didn’t have
plenty of grub.”
“’Tis supper-time,” says Binney. “Come on.”
 Well, sir, five minutes after that you could have bought the whole
crowd for a cent with a hole in it. We got everything ready to cook
and fixed wood and kindling for the fire—and nobody had a match.
We searched our pockets and turned them inside out. Then we
rummaged through everything we had brought over to the citadel
from the hotel; and as a last resort we scoured the whole citadel to
see if somebody hadn’t left one laying around by accident. But there
wasn’t a match.
“No coffee,” says Binney.
“Coffee!” grunted Mark. “What’s worryin’ me is no f-fires to-night.
We might peg along somehow with the grub we’ve got, but we can’t
get along without fire to-night.”
“Might make fire like the savages do,” says I. “Take a stick with a
point to it and whirl it around in a hole in another stick.”
“If I was wrecked on a d-d-desert island,” says Mark, “and there
wasn’t any other way, I might try that. Probably it’d take a day’s
fussin’ to get the things fixed just right so’s they’d work. No, there’s
a b-better way than that.”
“What is it?” says I.
“Go get the box of m-matches on the kitchen shelf in the hotel.”
“Sure,” says I. “Just call and ask The Man Who Will Come to toss
’em over.”
“Get all the fun you can out of it now,” says Mark, “because you’re
elected, Tallow.”
“Me?” says I. “Why?”
“Because you’re the best s-s-swimmer.”
“Next time,” says I, “I won’t learn to swim.”
“I don’t think there’ll be much danger,” says Mark. “We’ll fix up a
decoy. How f-far can you swim under water, Tallow?”
“Fifty or sixty feet,” says I.
“Good. I’ve seen you do b-b-better’n that. First we’ll send out
Plunk in the canoe. He’ll start out from the wharf and p-paddle along
the shore about two hundred f-feet out. He’ll take a cloth and m-
make b’lieve wave it to somebody on the far shore. I calc’late that’ll
interest the Japs some. Eh? Sort of give ’em the idea reinforcements
are comin’.”
“Fine!” says I. “But where do I come in?”
“I’ll show you that as soon as Plunk’s gone.”
“When does he go?”
“Now,” says Mark.
“And all I’ve got to do is just slide across and fetch a supply of
matches?” says I. “Swim under water with ’em? How’ll I keep ’em
dry? And while I’m there hadn’t I better fetch along the kitchen
stove? Could just as well’s not.”
“You’re goin’ to be k-kept busy,” says Mark, “without tirin’ yourself
out tryin’ to be funny. Do your jokin’ when you get back with the m-
matches.”
 I COULD GET INTO THE WATER WITHOUT THE LEAST BIT
OF DANGER OF ANYBODY’S SEEING ME

We pushed off the canoe and Plunk started out with a pillow-case
lying handy for him to wave. He paddled until he got opposite the
porch of the hotel, and then, all of a sudden, he acted as if he was
looking for something on the far shore of the lake. After he’d
watched a minute he rose up as high as he dared without tipping
over, and began to wave like he had gone crazy. He flapped that
pillow-case around his head in circles and back and forth and up and
down, at the same time letting out a holler as if he was tickled to
death about something.
As soon as Plunk’s side-show was performing I got ready for the
main act. Mark took me into the citadel, where we pried up a loose
plank in the floor. That part of the building was built on spiles right
over the water. So all I had to do was let myself through. That way I
could get into the water without the least bit of danger of anybody’s
seeing me. The water was up to my neck under the floor and got
deeper toward the edge. I found that out all by myself. It didn’t take
any help at all. All I did was to take one step careless-like, and into a
hole I went ker-splash!
It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been talking to Mark at
that minute. But I was. I guess I must have been saying a big word,
because my mouth was as far open as I could get it. When you duck
suddenly under water with your mouth wide open the pleasure you
get out of it is very small. If Lake Ravona hadn’t been a pretty good-
sized body of water I’d have swallowed all of it and left the fish
flopping on dry land. As it was I did my best and lowered the level
considerable.
When I came up, choking and splashing and close to drowned to
death, Mark Tidd was laughing fit to split.
“See if you can t-t-think of anythin’ humorous to say now, Tallow.
You’ve been unusual funny these few days past.”
“I’d like to have you down here,” says I. “I’ll bet I’d make you
think of somethin’ pretty laughable.”
“Duck your head,” says he, still shaking all over like a plate of
jelly, “and swim under water to the back of the hotel. You can crawl
in through the kitchen window and get out again without anybody
knowin’ you’ve b-b-been there.”
I was mad, but there wasn’t anything to do but swallow it and
wait for a chance to get even. So I took a sight for the place where I
wanted to land and dived.
 Swimming under water is all right when you do it for fun and
when you do it in water you know all about. But here I wasn’t doing
it for fun—far from it—and I didn’t know much about the water. I
was pretty confident there weren’t any spiles or boulders between
me and shore to split my head against, but I didn’t know. There’s a
heap of difference between being pretty sure and knowing. An
ounce of know is better than a ton of pretty sure.
I took it as easy and cautious as I could, and after I’d been
swimming ahead till I thought my lungs would burst if I didn’t get a
breath of air my knees scraped the bottom. I’d got as far as I could
go under water. So I crouched down with nothing but my nose and
eyes above water, and spied around a bit.
I didn’t see a soul any place, so I crept in nearer, and got out on
shore at the back of the hotel. The kitchen window wasn’t far, now,
so I made a break for it. When I got to it I stopped again and looked
all around as well as inside. It looked safe. If only things were
always as safe as they look it would be fine. Wouldn’t it? But they’re
not.
I pulled myself up and scrambled inside.
It wasn’t very light in there, but I could see as well as I needed to
—at any rate, I thought I could. Anyhow, I found my way across to
the shelf and grabbed a large package of matches. Then I turned
and scuttled across to the window I’d got in at. Right there was a
surprise party for me—about the worst one I ever got. I raised my
head above the edge of the window and looked out. While I was
doing that a Japanese outside was raising his head above the level
of the window to look in. We almost rubbed noses.
It was a close race to see who was most startled, but I guess I
won. I figure I did because he wouldn’t have been looking in that
way if he hadn’t expected to see something. I wasn’t expecting any
sights, and didn’t need any. I could have got along fine without
seeing any Japanese just then.
I let go and dropped back quick. It was pretty plain I couldn’t get
out the way I got in, and it was just as sure I was in a bad box. I’d
been discovered, and stood a first-class chance of being trapped
right there in the kitchen. I bolted.
My main idea was to get anywhere else, I didn’t so much care
where. I wanted to move and move quick. I did, too. Through the
dining-room and into the office, where I stopped a second to
breathe and see if I could think. Outside I could hear Plunk yelling
and cheering like he was at a baseball game. Whether the Jap who
discovered me did any yelling to give the alarm I don’t know. I found
I didn’t do a very workman-like job of thinking, so I says to myself
that if I couldn’t think I’d better run, anyhow. I ran. This time I
headed up-stairs because I caught a glimpse of The Man Who Will
Come outside, watching Plunk, and, though I couldn’t see any more,
I believed other Japanese were with him. If I’d had any hopes of
escaping out of the front door they went glimmering.
I scooted down the long corridor toward the other end of the
hotel, partly because it was about the only way I could go, and
partly to get nearer to the citadel. I wanted to get a chance to warn
Mark Tidd of the predicament I was in if I could.
I suppose I could have gone on to the third floor and hidden in
Motu’s old den, but the matches kept weighing on my mind. If I
holed up like a frightened fox and took the matches with me Mark
and the fellows would be in a bad fix that night. I made up my mind
I’d get the matches across somehow, no matter what happened to
me. That was why I wanted to get near the citadel. If I could attract
Mark’s attention I could heave the matches over to him, and then
have my mind free to look out for myself.
About half-way down I thought I heard a sound ahead of me, and
stopped quick. Sure enough there was a sound. It was somebody
coming up the back stairs, probably to head me off. That made me
listen back the way I’d come. Right then and there I pretty nearly
quit and curled up on the floor like one of those little green worms
does when you touch it with a stick. I couldn’t go either way. All the
choice I had was which room I’d hide in.
 As a matter of fact I didn’t stop to choose, but just bobbed into
the nearest doorway. By luck the key was in the door and I turned it.
Then I tiptoed to the window, but it was too far to jump or drop
without taking a big chance of spraining an ankle. Over at one side
was a door that opened into a bathroom, and the bathroom opened
into another room, and the other room opened into another room. A
regular suite, it was. Then I got an idea. If I do say it myself, it was
about as good as Mark Tidd could have done in the circumstances.
I had already locked the hall door. Quick as a wink I ran to it and
banged against it like I was trying to get out, or had slipped and
fallen against it. Then I scooted through the bathroom door and
locked that. After that I just went headlong, but as quietly as I could
go, into the third room. You see, I figured the Japanese would hear
the noise, and when they found the door locked would think I was
there. Then if they tried the next room and the bath they’d find that
door locked, and, because I had the key right in my pocket, they’d
be more than liable to suppose it was locked on the inside. That
would make them dead certain I was in there. While they were
trying to break in and catch me I’d be making tracks.
Now, Mark Tidd or not, I think that was a good scheme. I don’t
get up a scheme very often, so when I do I want folks to know
about it and sort of appreciate it.
This scheme worked. I heard a man rush by the door of the room
where I crouched. Then, as plain as day, I heard him meet another
fellow in front of the locked door. They jabbered a minute in their
funny language, and after a minute they rattled on the door.
“Open,” says a man.
Of course nobody answered.
“Open,” he says again, “or we break.”
“Go ahead,” I thought to myself. “That’s what I want you to do.”
But they didn’t bu’st the door down. They went into the next
room and, I expect, found the bathroom and the other locked door. I
know they did, for I heard them bang on it and yell again. Both of
them yelled. I knew then that the hall was clear, so I opened my
door and scooted. My bare feet didn’t make much noise and I got to
the top of the back stairs all right, but I didn’t go down. What was
down there I didn’t know, but I did know that nobody was straight
ahead—and straight ahead took me nearer to the citadel.
There was a turn in the corridor that hid me from anybody
behind, so I slacked down so as not to make a particle of sound.
Into the very last room I went. It had a side window that looked
right out on the little strait that separated me from the citadel.
You can guess it didn’t take me long to throw up that window and
look out. The Man Who Will Come was still on the beach, watching
Plunk. Across on the dock was Mark Tidd. I didn’t stop to think, but
just let out a yell at Mark. He turned, but didn’t see me for a second.
As soon as he saw me I drew back my arm and threw the matches
as far toward him as I could. They landed safe. He picked them up
and waved his hand.
I took a look toward The Man Who Will Come and saw that he
saw me, for he was coming on the run. It was my move, all right, so
I began by getting out of that room into the hall. The door opposite
was open and I took a chance on going in. Outside its back window
was the roof of a porch—a sort of dish-washing, fish-cleaning porch
off the kitchen. It was built on spiles and stood maybe six or eight
feet into the water.
Out on that porch I got, and not a minute too soon, for those two
Japanese had smelled me out and came tearing in at the door. I
hadn’t much time to figure. I was cornered. The only way off that
porch was through the window, and the Japanese were between
that and the door—one of the nicest little traps you ever saw.
Well, there was just one thing for me to do. I knew how deep the
water was below. It was a good seven feet. The drop was a little
over twenty-feet—and, as Mark Tidd said, I was the best swimmer
and diver in the bunch. I jumped to the edge, poised a second, and
dove.
It wasn’t much of a dive. I’ve taken higher ones, but the water
was pretty shallow. Still, there really wasn’t such a terrible risk to it.
I turned as soon as I struck the water, and, though I touched
bottom, it wasn’t hard enough to hurt me. Then I struck out for the
citadel. The rest was easy.
Mark Tidd was there to help me climb out, and so was Motu.
“Guess we’ll have to get a m-m-medal struck off for him, won’t
we, Motu?” says Mark.
“He shall have a thing better than many medals,” says Motu. “I
am glad I saw it. I will make it into a song myself. ‘The Leap of
Tallow Martin’ it shall be called.”
“Aw, shucks!” says I, but all the same I was just a bit pleased with
myself.
Mark saw that like he sees everything, and calculated it was his
duty to take me down a peg.
“There wasn’t the r-r-risk you figure, Motu,” says he. “He’d have
landed on his h-head, you know, and that wouldn’t have hurt him.”
 CHAPTER XIV
Our supper was a little late that night, but it tasted all the better
for that. Before we ate, Mark insisted on our building the two watch-
fires, and somebody was keeping his eyes on the enemy’s country
every minute.
When it gets dark at Lake Ravona it doesn’t just fool around with
it; it gets right down to business and turns out first-quality darkness.
There wasn’t any moon, but there were seven million stars, which
only made it seem blacker than it was. Outside the circle where our
fires threw light you couldn’t see any more than as if you were trying
to look through a black curtain.
Motu and Plunk drew the watch for the first part of the night, and
Mark and I went up to the second floor of the citadel to sleep.
Before we turned in we stepped out on the roof of the porch to look
around. Below we could see the fires blazing, and a dark figure
standing by each of them. Plunk was by the one in front of the
citadel, and Motu was near the other.
“It don’t seem real, does it?” I says.
“Does l-l-look like a dream or somethin’,” says Mark.
“I didn’t mean just what we see—the fires and things—but the
whole mix-up we’re in. Here we are, four boys from Michigan, way
up here in the mountains in a ramshackle hotel by ourselves, when
we expected to be staying at a swell summer resort. That don’t
seem real, but when you add to it that we’ve got a war on our hands
all on account of a mysterious Japanese boy who appears from
nowhere, and add to that again that the enemy is a party of
Japanese men trying to get that boy—well, it pretty nearly
flabbergasts me. It ain’t so, that’s all.”
“It is m-m-mysterious,” says Mark. “I’ve been figgerin’ it over
quite a bit.”
 “What d’you make of it?”
“Not much. Motu’s the mystery. If we knew what he’s doin’ here,
or if we knew who he was, then we could make a guess. Yes,” he
says, sort of calculating-like, “it’s who and what Motu is that is the
real m-m-mystery.”
“You can bet,” says I, “that he ain’t just a common, every-day boy
like you and me.”
“Never heard of anybody b-b-besiegin’ a citadel just to get their
hands on either of us, did you?”
“Not yet,” says I.
“Motu’s somebody or somethin’,” says Mark. “He’s mighty secret
about it, too. Got a right to be if he wants to. But it sure makes me
m-mighty curious.”
“Well,” says I, “we’ll know some day.”
“Can’t tell,” says Mark. “Maybe it’s one of those kind of s-s-secrets
that can’t ever be told.”
“That,” says I, “would be doggone aggravatin’.”
“It would,” says Mark. “Let’s go to bed.”
About the next thing I remember was Plunk shaking me to tell me
his watch was over. It didn’t seem like I’d shut my eyes at all.
“Anything happen?” says I.
“Not a thing,” says he. “They’ve got a big fire, and a couple of
them are sittin’ in front of it. But they haven’t made a move. Just
watchin’ us, I guess.”
Mark and I went down to mount guard. Sure enough, they had a
big watch-fire, and a couple of them were crouching in front of it.
Mark and I walked up and down and up and down, but nobody
stirred. For hours it kept on just like that. Somehow I got a feeling
that nothing was going to happen, and I told Mark so.
“Just the t-t-time somethin’s apt to happen,” says he. “The Man
Who Will Come is p-probably tryin’ to make us feel that way, and as
soon as we act careless, swoop! down he’ll be on us.”
 But I was right for once. Morning came without a hostile act by
the enemy. It was just five o’clock when Mark and I turned in, and
we slept till nine. We’d have slept longer if Binney hadn’t set up a
yell.
“Boat!” he says. “Boat! There’s a boat comin’ down the lake.”
We hustled out to see, pretty hopeful all of a sudden. It looked
like the siege was ended and reinforcements were coming. The boat
was way down at the far end of the lake and we could just see it
and two figures sitting in it, rowing. It was headed our way.
“I’ll bet it’s Mr. Ames come ahead of time,” Binney says, beginning
to dance up and down, he was so excited.
Mark didn’t say anything, and he didn’t look glad, only worried
and puzzled.
“What’s the matter?” says I. “Come on and join the celebration.”
“I never s-s-shoot firecrackers till the Fourth of July,” says he,
which was as much as to tell us we were getting happy ahead of
time.
The boat didn’t come very fast, because the wind was blowing
right in its face. When it came near enough so we could make out to
see men in it we could tell they were pretty poor boatmen. They did
more splashing than they did rowing. And then we saw they were
Japanese! Somewhere around the lake they had found an old scow.
“Well,” says Mark, with a long breath, “the enemy’s got a n-navy.”
“Yes,” says I, “and we’d better strengthen our shore-defense
batteries.”
“I t-think,” says Mark, “that The Man Who Will Come will try to
take the citadel by s-storm—once. He’s due to load his army aboard
his navy and attack. If we can beat them back once he won’t try it
again. It’ll be stratagems we’ll have to look out for.”
“Five boys and a dog,” says Binney.
“More’n that,” says Mark, with the sort of look he wears when he’s
got an unpleasant surprise waiting for somebody. “I calc’late we’ll
have quite a sizable army when the time comes.”
 “Goin’ to enlist the fish?” says Plunk.
“Might if I had to,” says Mark, and I’ll bet he would have found
some way to use them if he’d had to.
The Japanese began to stir around and pretty soon they started
for the boat. Mark began giving orders.
“Motu and Plunk, you’re strongest. Get those two long p-p-poles
inside; I’ve put spikes in ’em. Regular p-pike-poles. Use ’em to fend
off the boat. Jab the spikes in the boat and p-push. Keep ’em from
touchin’ the shore. You ought to be able to hold ’em ten feet away.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” says Plunk.
He turned and scooted into the citadel as fast as his size would let
him, and that was faster than you would expect. In a jiffy he was
back with a couple of poles an inch and a half thick and eight feet
long, with a big pad like a boxing-glove on the end of each. He’d
been making them on the quiet while the rest of us were fooling
around.
“Tallow and Binney, take these lances,” says he, “When a m-m-
man steps off a boat he isn’t balanced very well. If anybody gets to
land jab this into his stomach and poke him back. Keep the lances
handy for close work. Use your slingshots for artillery. As soon as the
boat starts out open fire. Aim for the f-f-fingers of the men rowin’.”
“What are you aimin’ to do?” says I.
Mark sort of chuckled. “I’m goin’ upstairs where it’s safe,” says he.
That was a joke, all right. Mark Tidd wasn’t the sort of fellow to
hunt a hole when his chums were running risks, so I knew he had
some sort of a scheme whizzing in his head. It stiffened my spine in
a second. When it comes to strategy I take off my hat to Mark.
We kept our eyes on the Japanese, who were getting into the old
scow. They weren’t used to boats and had a pretty tough time
pushing off and getting under way. But when they got started they
came like they meant business.
The Man Who Will Come was standing up in the stern. Two Japs
were rowing, and two sat all ready to attack as soon as they landed.
They had to row about two hundred feet.
Binney and I held our fire till they were a hundred feet off, then
we let fly. We didn’t hit any fingers at that distance, but we knocked
some dust out of a couple of pairs of pants. We could see the
Japanese jump and squirm, for those pebbles hit plenty hard and
stung enough to make anybody wish he had on a suit of armor.
We kept up a steady fire, and Plunk joined in while they were too
far away to reach with his pole. None of us bothered with The Man
Who Will Come. It was the machinery we wanted to damage, and
the two rowers were the engine. I was sort of sorry for those
fellows, because they caught it and caught it good. At last Binney
plunked one fellow right on the knuckles. He got half out of his seat,
let out a howl, and dropped his oar overboard. That made the boat
swing around sideways. The Man Who Will Come didn’t lose his
jaunty air for a minute. He just spoke low to the man, who reached
out quick and got his oar.
They pulled around straight and came on again. Binney and I kept
on peppering them good. I had the luck to smack my man on the
hand, but he didn’t drop his oar. He missed a stroke, though.
The Man Who Will Come fixed his round glass in one eye and
beamed at us as jovial as could be.
“Ho, leetle boys, make a stopping. Do not throwing stones. My
men will get to become angry if you hurt them some more.”
“I’ll hurt you,” says I, and gave him one for luck.
It struck him on the elbow. Must have hit his funny-bone, I guess,
for he didn’t act quite so happy and began rubbing the spot.
“For that,” says he, “I shall make a spanking on you when you are
caught.”
“It might as well be a good spanking,” says I, and let him have
another.
“F-f-fire volleys,” says Mark Tidd from way up above.
Binney and I tried it. I’d call, “Shoot,” and we’d both let go. Plunk,
too. It worked fine. Mark began to shoot, too, and you know what a
shot he was with the sling. Well, sir, we stopped them. The men at
the oars turned and grumbled something to their commander. He
said something back, but they shook their heads. He stopped smiling
and spoke louder in Japanese. Now he wasn’t smiling, but you could
see his teeth just the same. His eyes were half shut and glinting,
and he leaned forward like he was going to leap.
The men were more afraid of him than they were of getting hurt,
for they picked up their oars once more.
“I’ll t-t-take the commander,” says Mark. “You three ’tend to the
rowers.”
Mark shot fast, and every pebble struck. I could see them spat
against The Man. They were only about thirty feet away now and
shooting was easy. We shot faster than ever. Spat, spat, spat, spat,
went the pebbles. Mark had The Man fidgeting good and plenty, and
we had the poor rowers about as uncomfortable as men can be.
At last it got to be too much for The Man himself, and when the
rowers stopped again he said something, and they turned the boat
and began to retreat. We helped them.
“Ain’t goin’ to spank me to-day, be you?” says I to The Man.
He turned and grinned and waved his little cane. “It is but the
beginning of the commencement,” says he. “Plenty of time for
spankings is yet left remaining.”
“I’ll show you how it feels,” says I, and gave him one right where
he’d have spanked me. He quit standing up without a second’s delay.
I guess he figured he’d rather be hit some place else by a pebble.
Well, I accommodated him.
“Three c-c-cheers,” says Mark, and we all threw our hats in the air
and yelled.
It was the first big battle of the campaign. They had tried a
straight frontal attack, as Mark called it, but Mark’s strategy and his
disposition of his artillery had won the battle. So far we had come
out ahead every place from the beginning. But the end was a long
way off.
“Don’t leave your places,” says Mark. “They’ll be back.”
 CHAPTER XV
The enemy rowed back and got out of their boat. Some of them
acted pretty lame, too. They hunched around and rubbed sore spots,
while we gave them the laugh. All of them went up to the hotel,
where, after a while, we heard them hammering and hammering.
“B-buildin’ a modern navy,” says Mark. “Wooden vessels went out
of style when the Monitor steamed into Hampton Roads.”
“Slingshots’ll go out of style, too, won’t they?” says I.
“They won’t be quite so useful, anyhow,” Mark says, “but I
calc’late we’d better hang onto ’em.”
Motu’s eyes were shining. He looked about as happy as I’ve ever
seen anybody look.
“It was a great battle,” says he. “My father has told me stories of
the battles of ancient warriors of Japan. This was like them. When I
come again to my country this day shall be spoken of with pride by
my family, and in after-years my descendants shall tell their children
of it.”
“Wait a bit,” says Mark, “and your decendants’ll have m-m-more
to brag about. This day’s battle ain’t over yet by several shots.”
“The more fighting the more glory,” says Motu.
Now I didn’t feel that way about it. The more fighting the more
bother, was my notion. I’d had plenty. My appetite was fed up, and I
didn’t have any use for a second helping. But I didn’t come of a race
of warriors. I expect my way of looking at it is the American way. We
don’t fight for glory, but only when it’s necessary, and then we want
it over with and done as soon as possible, just as we do any other
disagreeable job that may come along.
“Look,” says Binney.
 Around the corner of the hotel came four Japanese, carrying a
sort of fence made of an old strip of carpet nailed on posts. They
took it down to the boat and The Man showed them how to set it up
and nail it in place so that the front and both sides of the craft were
sheltered. With that armor a fellow couldn’t see the rowers at all; in
fact, the whole five of them could sit in the boat and we couldn’t get
a crack at them.
“Here’s where we get it,” says I to Mark.
“Maybe,” says he, “but you f-f-fellows fend off with your pike-
poles, and, Tallow and Binney, you ’tend to anybody that reaches
over to meddle with the poles while they’re holdin’ the boat. Get the
idea? So long as we can hold off the boat n-nobody can land, and
we can hold off the boat as l-long as our pike-poles are left alone.”
Well, sir, you’ll have to admit Mark was some general. That pike-
pole idea was a dandy, and, in spite of their new armor, our
slingshots would be useful a heap. And then, there was Mark up on
the balcony of the third floor, and he could shoot right down on top
of the Japs.
“Motu,” says I, “I guess those old warriors of your’n never had a
better general than Mark Tidd.”
He just grinned.
Now the enemy was ready to attack again. They boarded their
man-of-war and pushed off, and a funny-looking ship they had. Of
course the rowers couldn’t see where they were going, and so
somebody had to stand up to direct them. The Man took the job of
being pilot, so we had something to shoot at from the beginning.
This time there was no chance of damaging the motive power, but
we could make the pilot wish he had a periscope. It was lucky for us
they didn’t have a submarine.
They came on steady and sure until they got in range. Then they
kept on just as steady, only we kept The Man hopping. By the time
they got within a hundred feet we had him ducking his head behind
the armor plate and only sticking it up to take a peek every little
while. The result of that was that the boat did quite a considerable
bit of zigzagging.
However, they kept coming, and at last they were near enough so
Mark Tidd could get a shot at them from his station above. He shot
fast and often, and I expect those Japs wished their leader had put a
roof on their shelter.
But, no matter how straight and how fast he could shoot, one boy
couldn’t hold off the boat with a sling. Besides, it was difficult
shooting. So, in a couple of minutes they got dangerously near to
shore.
“P-p-pike-poles!” yelled Mark.
Motu and Plunk were ready. They jabbed their spikes into the bow
of the boat and pushed. The boat stopped sudden and swung
sideways. Plunk let go and ran along till he could spear the boat
near the stern, and there they held her. The Japs tried to row, but
Binney and I grabbed our lances with the boxing-glove pads on the
end and poked at their paddles so they couldn’t do a thing.
The Man yelled something in Japanese, and the rowers pulled in
their oars. In a second one of them stood up suddenly and smashed
at Plunk’s pike-pole with his oar-blade. He might have hit if it hadn’t
been for Mark and Binney. Both of them smacked him good with
pebbles and he ducked. The best part of it was that he dropped his
oar. Before they could do anything to recover it Mark yelled to me to
get it, which I did with my pike. It was the first trophy of the war,
and something to brag about like real soldiers do when they report
they’ve captured so many of the enemy’s cannon, or some such
thing.
The next thing they tried was a little more skilful, but it didn’t
work much better. A man lifted the carpet armor a little at the
bottom and shoved through his arm. He tried to grab the pike and
jerk it away from Motu, but Motu had jabbed in his spike good, and
he pushed like a Trojan. The man didn’t make much headway, and
after we’d peppered his knuckles a couple of times he didn’t seem
anxious to keep it up. He let go, and for a couple of minutes nothing
happened. I guess The Man Who Will Come was holding a council of
war with himself.
After that they tried poking their oars through and punching at
the pike-poles with them, and that was a better scheme than any of
the rest, for there wasn’t anything for our artillery to aim at. But
they had to go it blind. Nobody seemed to want to stand up to see
just where they were poking, so they didn’t have very good luck at
it. A few times they thumped off one of the pike-poles, but before it
did them any good Plunk or Motu would jab it in again, and they
were no further ahead than before.
“Hey!” says Mark to The Man, “don’t you know history t-t-teaches
that land defenses can’t be taken with a n-navy alone?”
“We take, all right,” says The Man from behind his shelter. “We
take and then comes punishings. Ho! we shall see.”
“Better give it up,” says Mark. “We’ll let you go with honors of
war.”
“No. You have our bad leetle Japanese boy. Give him up to us and
we make lovely speed away without spankings. Nobody shall have a
spanking.”
“Glad to h-hear that,” says Mark. “We’d hate to be s-s-spanked.”
“You give him up? Yes?”
“We’ll give him up, no,” says Mark.
At that, quick as a wink, The Man stood up in the boat with an
oar in his hand. Of course all three of us shot and shot like fury, but
before we could stop him he swung his oar over his head and
brought it down on Plunk’s pike-pole. The pike-pole snapped and
Plunk dropped his end like it was hot. I guess it must have stung his
hands some.
The boat was held only by Motu’s pike-pole now, and its stern
began to swing toward the shore. That wasn’t so bad, because there
was no armor plate around the back, and we could shoot right
through. We didn’t miss any time doing it, and the way they
scrambled to swing their navy around was a caution.
 It was only a question of time now, and we all knew it. The Man
could stand up as soon as he was ready and smash Motu’s pole the
same way he did Plunk’s, and then we fellows would have to join
battle with our lances.
But it didn’t come to lances just then. All of a sudden Mark Tidd
yelled to look out. I looked up instead and saw him leaning over the
edge of the balcony with a big pail in his hands. He held it like he
didn’t like the job very well. I could see he had a cover on it and was
pretty careful to keep the cover in place.
“L-l-look out, fellows!” says he again, and then heaved over the
pail. It struck square in the middle of the boat and in a second I
heard a sound I recognized. It was an angry sound, the kind of a
sound you want to get away from. And right on top of it we heard a
yell, and then another yell, and the sound of a wild scramble in the
boat.
But through all the noise the Japanese made I could hear that
low, angry sound. It was a sort of humming, singing, stinging buz-
zzz-zzzz.
“Whee!” I yelled. “Reinforcements have arrived. Whoop!”
It was reinforcements, all right. More than a million of ’em, I
guess, and a million of the best and meanest fighters in the world.
We could begin to see them now, a regular cloud of them, and we
could see the enemy was in a bad way. They yelled and slapped and
scrambled and squealed while our allies went for them. Then they
began a retreat that was a rout. With only three oars left they
started rowing for the other shore, and, in spite of the speed they
made, which was considerable, I’ll bet it was the longest ride they
ever took.
Just before they got to shore a Japanese stood up and jumped
out of the boat, waving his arms around his head and yelling.
Another was right on his heels, and the rest followed in quick order.
The Man Who Will Come wasn’t last, either. They laid right down
under the water with nothing showing but their noses—and our
allies kept them there. Every time a hand showed one of our friends
made a dash for it.
“I t-t-told you reinforcements were goin’ to come,” says Mark, all
doubled up with laugh.
They had come, and a sort of reinforcement I wouldn’t have
wanted to call on. I wouldn’t have known how to use them if I’d
wanted to. Friends like those are hard to handle. Sometimes they
don’t quite detect the difference between the folks you want them to
attack and you. In fact, our allies were the sort of fighters who take
a lot of pleasure in attacking anybody, friend or foe.
They were hornets! Regular old warrior hornets! It was a nest of
them, ’most as big as a bushel basket, that Mark had thrown down
into the boat. It was as bad as a dynamite bomb and more painful,
though not quite so dangerous.
While our little fighters were keeping the enemies’ minds
occupied, they forgot their navy, and it floated off slow.
“Tallow,” says Mark, and pointed.
I wasn’t crazy about the job he’d picked out for me; not that I
was afraid of the Japanese just then—they had all they wanted to
look for—but I was afraid of the hornets. However, there was
nothing for it but to obey orders. If Mark Tidd had the nerve to use
their nest for a bomb, I had the nerve to go get that boat. So I
plunged in, clothes and all, and swam across.
It wasn’t any trick at all to tow back the man-of-war, and not a
hornet got me. I calculate they were all busy with the Japanese.
Well, I dragged the boat to shore, and we all celebrated. It was a
great victory all around. Mark said it ought to be one of the Fifteen
Decisive Battles of the World. We’d licked the enemy, we’d captured
their whole navy, and, to cap the climax, we’d captured the little
cane that belonged to The Man Who Will Come. That was a battle
trophy worth having. Some day we’re going to send it to Washington
to be put up in a case in the national war museum.
It was an hour before the broken and scattered forces of the
enemy dared come out of the water, and when they did they didn’t