I say, shall we stop about here this afternoon?
Look at that gull--how it seems to watch us." Vince threw back his head to gaze up at the beautiful, white-breasted bird, which was keeping them company, and sailing about here and there some twenty feet overhead, watching them all the time.
"Bother the gull!" said Mike.

"Let's go on and speak to old Joe about the boat." "Oh, very well," said Vince; "but what's the hurry?
I hate racing along when there's so much to see.

Here, Ladle: look--look! My! what a chance for a seine!" They had just reached a turn in the lane where they could look down at an embayed portion of the deep blue sea, in which a wide patch was sparkling and flashing in the most dazzling way, and literally seeming to boil as if some large volcanic fire were at work below.
"Mackerel," said Vince.
"Pilchards," said Mike.
"'Taint: it's too soon.

It's mackerel.

What a chance!" "Have it your own way," said Mike; "but a nice chance! Ha! ha! Why, if they surrounded them they'd get their nets all torn to pieces.