CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
A LONG SWIM.
This plan was nothing else than their attempting the feat of swimming round the headland, in order to reach the western shore, from whence, of course, they knew from past experience they could easily ascend to the tableland above--the happy hunting-ground for goats and pigs, their legitimate prey.
"Nonsense," exclaimed Fritz, when Eric mooted the project; "the thing can never be done!" "Never is a long day," rejoined the sailor lad.

"I'm sure I have covered over twice that distance in the water before now." "Ah, that might have been in a calm sea," said Fritz; "but, just recollect the terrible rough breakers we had to contend with that time in December when the whale-boat got smashed! Why, we might never get out of the reach of that current which you know runs like a mill-race under the eastern cliff." "We won't go that way," persisted Eric.

"Besides, the sea is not always rough; for, on some days the water, especially now since the frost has set in, is as calm as a lake." "And terribly cold, too," cried his brother.

"I dare say a fellow would get the cramp before he had well-nigh cleared the bay." "Well, I never saw such a chap for throwing cold water on any suggestion one makes!" exclaimed Eric in an indignant tone.

He was almost angry.
"It is cold water this time with a vengeance," retorted Fritz, laughing; whereupon Eric calmed down again, but only to argue the point more determinedly.
"Mind, I don't want you to go, brother," he pleaded.