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,”............