Pull your jersey over your head again, and I'll show you." "Likely! Never mind, old chap," said Vince, giving himself a shake; "I'll save it up for you.

Phew! you have made me hot." "Do you good," said Mike, imitating his companion by throwing himself down at full length upon the elastic heath, to lie gazing at the brilliant blue sea, stretching far away to where a patch of amethyst here and there on the horizon told of other islands, bathed in the glowing sunshine.
The land ended a hundred yards from where the two lads lay as suddenly as if it had been cut sharply off, and went down perpendicularly some two hundred and fifty feet to where the transparent waves broke softly, with hardly a sound, amongst the weedy rocks, all golden-brown with fucus, or running quietly over the yellow sand, but which, in a storm, came thundering in, like huge banks of water, to smite the face of the cliff, fall back and fret, and churn up the weed into balls of froth, which flew up, and were carried by the wind right across the island.
"Where's old Deane ?" said Vince suddenly.
"Taken a book to go and sit on the rock shelf and read Plutarch.

I say, what a lot he does know!" "No wonder," said Vince, who was parting the heather and peering down beneath: "he's always reading.

I wish he was fonder of coming out in a boat and fishing or sailing." "So do I," said Mike.

"We'd make him do the rowing.