“Huh!” says he. “I guess we kin pertend it was a treaty, can’t we?” “We kin pertend it’s a bunch of bananas or a ham or a two-headed hoo-hoo bird,” says I, “but that don’t make it so.” “It does while we’re pertendin’ it,” says he, as stubborn as a mule. “Anythin’ s-s-so while you’re p-pertendin’ it.” That was the way with him. Yes, sir, whatever he pertended he believed was so while he was at it. And he acted as if it was so and talked as if it was so. Which hain’t all. He managed somehow to make the rest of us feel just like he did. There was times when we had some mighty fine adventures that way—that was real adventures till we woke up and found out we’d just been pertendin’. Anyhow, we started up the river toward the island, and made pretty good time in spite of having to hide every now and then because hostile bands was monkeying around. At last we got into the woods just across from Big Hole and scrooched down to see if we could catch a sight of George. We couldn’t. Not even a sign of smoke like he had been cooking his breakfast. But that wasn’t so surprising, for the island was all over trees and bushes and vines, and a lot of it was swampy. There was a time once when folks used to have picnics there, and then there was a little floating bridge across that used to get about ankle-deep with water when a crowd walked over it; but that was a long time ago, and now there wasn’t much left except a tumble-down dance-floor with a roof and no sides, with a refreshment counter across one end. Mark judged George would most likely be living somewheres in that old dance-hall. “S-swim over one at a t-time,” says Mark. “Each f-feller pull up a bush and hold it in his teeth and come down with the current. Then the chief’ll think it’s jest a bush adrift and won’t suspect it’s a party comin’ to capture him.” “Who first?” says I. “Me,” says Mark. “I’m the best swimmer,” says Tallow, which he was by long odds. “Don’t make no d-difference. It’s my p-place to go first,” says Mark, and that settled it. It was just as if he was going into real danger, and he almost believed he was. That was the way he would have acted, anyhow. You never saw him dodge or try to get out of doing his share and more than his share whenever a pinch came. So we all took off our clothes and did them up in bundles, and we got us each a bush, and Mark started off. It was only about a hunderd-foot swim, but there was quite some current. Now maybe Mark Tidd looked like a bush floating down-stream to an Injun on the island, but to me on the shore he looked more like a hippopotamus carrying home his dinner. Anyhow, he got across, and then came Tallow, and then me, and Binney last. We all got there safe and sound and pulled on our clothes and held a council of war. Mark laid out a lot of plans about how we would surround the Injun chief and pounce on him before he could get his hand onto his tomahawk, and how we would tie him to a tree and all that. But I says: