No, the proper game was to rob the robbers, and he had seven shillings to play it with.
Suddenly Tinker stirred.

"I'm going to try now," he said.
Sir Tancred looked at the Biggleswades.

Mr.Biggleswade lay sprawled on his back, a handkerchief spread over his face; and mellowed by the distance, the music of a long-drawn snore murmured over the sands.
Mrs.Biggleswade was nodding over a book.
Tinker rose, bade Blazer stay where he was; and walked off towards the hotel.

Sir Tancred twisted round his chair, tore a hole in his _Daily Telegraph_, and watched him.

Tinker fetched a circuit to within a hundred yards of the backs of the Biggleswades, threw his straw hat on the sand, dropped on to his stomach, and began to squirm along towards them, taking advantage of every ridge and hollow.