“What have you been doin’ over in the citadel?” says I. The citadel was what we called the building across the bridge.

“Fixin’ engines of d-d-defense,” says Mark.

“Hope we don’t have to use ’em.”

“We will,” says he, short-like.

“You don’t think we fooled The Man Who Will Come?”

“We f-fooled him about a quart, or maybe a pint, but it’ll wear off. He ain’t the kind to stay f-fooled.”

“No,” says Motu, from the door behind us, “he will not stay fooled, but he will fool others so they stay fooled.”

“I’ve got a lot of respect for him since I’ve seen him in action,” says I.

“If he discovers me I shall run,” says Motu. “It will be decided by legs. Who has the best legs wins.”

“The only way you could r-r-run and get away would be straight up,” says Mark, “and we’re just out of flyin’-machines. No, you won’t run, Motu. You’ll stay and we’ll s-s-stand a siege.”

“But, Mark Tidd, this large hotel cannot be defended by five. It would take fifty fighting-men.”

“It isn’t the hotel we’re goin’ to d-defend; it’s the citadel. We’re keepin’ it for a s-s’prise. Wait till these fellows discover you. They’ll think all they have to do is to come and get you out of here—but we won’t be here. Five of us can put up a pretty good fight in the citadel.”

“I’m goin’ for a walk,” says I. “I need exercise.”

“Guess I’ll stay and t-t-talk to Motu,” says Mark.

I went off alone, though I was a little nervous about it. I headed toward the road and went along about a quarter of a mile when all of a sudden a Japanese stepped out of the bushes into the road and stood in front of me. He just stood and looked at me and scowled.

I didn’t walk past him. I expect I could have if I’d wanted to, but I didn’t want to. I stopped and looked at him and scowled, but his scowl was working better than mine; at any rate, I didn’t notice his knees shaking any. He lifted his arm and pointed back toward the hotel. Not a word did he say, but I gathered what he meant, all right. He was explaining to me politely that he didn’t want me to go any farther. I was obliging about it and turned right around and made for home.

“Mark,” says I when I got there, “we’re prisoners.”

“How?” says he.

“I tried to go for a walk, but a Japanese stopped me.”

“Huh! Don’t want any m-m-messages sent,” says he. “I calc’late we fooled ’em a lot, a whole, whoppin’ lot.... How’d you like to see how far they’ll let you walk the other way?”

“Well,” says I, “this one didn’t bite me, so I guess the next one won’t.” And at that I started out and went in the opposite direction. This time I hadn’t gone a hundred yards before a Japanese got up out of the bushes and herded me back the same as the first one did. We were besieged, all right.

I told Mark about it and he shook his head like he’d known it all the time.

“It don’t prove anythin’,” says he, “except that they think Motu’s here, and dassen’t take chances. They don’t know yet.”

“When we get a chance,” says I, “we’d better carry the rest of the grub across the bridge.”

“No,” says he; “they’d see us and suspect somethin’. We’ll have to s-s-sneak over what we can; but there’s enough for a couple of weeks there now.”

“How about cookin’-things?” says I.

“They’re not there. But we can take ’em in a second. Always have them piled together ready to grab. That’ll be your job, Tallow. Remember. At the first alarm drop everything and forget everything else. Just g-g-grab those dishes and scoot.”

“All right,” says I. “Here goes to get ’em ready now.”

And now came the discovery of Motu by The Man Who Will Come. It was by nobody’s fault unless it was Motu’s own, but if what he did was a fault, then I should like to be committing faults like it all my life. We had all gotten to like Motu, for he was so pleasant and gentlemanly and patient, but that was all. We didn’t feel toward him like we felt toward one another, and it wasn’t to be expected. But from that time on he belonged. It was the first time a boy had ever been let into our crowd of four, and the last time—but this boy deserved it. The thing Motu did was not only brave, for it isn’t such a big thing to be brave, but it was self-sacrificing, which is a big thing. He not only did a brave thing in an emergency when quick thinking and quick acting had to be done, but, with his eyes open, he risked capture by the Japanese, with all the important results that would have come from it. Without a moment’s hesitation he risked everything for one of us, and I hope that all the rest of our lives we will be just as quick to risk everything for him. This was the way of it:

Plunk and Binney came in from fishing. They had been out in the canoe, and luck had been right in the boat with them, for they had a dandy string of bass and pickerel. Plunk got out with the fish and carried them over to the live-box. For some reason or another Binney pushed off again all alone and paddled out about twenty feet from shore. I guess at the start he had it in mind to go somewhere, but changed his plan. He stopped where the water was about four feet deep, and then, like a little idiot, leaned over the side of the canoe to wash his face.

He washed it, all right, and the rest of him with it. Just as if it had been alive and wanted to get rid of Binney, th............