"How can it be Spanish when all the rest of me's English ?" "It's the shape," continued Vince; while Mike lay on his back, listened, and stared up at the grey gulls which went sailing round between him and the vividly blue sky.

"He says there isn't another nose in the island a bit like it." "Tell him he'd better leave my nose alone.

But he is right there: there arn't a nose like it--they're all round or stunted, or turn t'other way up." "Then he says your name Daygo's only a corruption of Diego, which is Spanish for James." "Yah! It's Daygo--Joe Daygo--and not James at all.

He's thinking about Jemmy Carnach." "And he says he feels sure your people came over with the Spanish Armada, and you're descended from some sailor, named Diego, who was wrecked." "You tell your father to mix his physic," grumbled the man sourly.--"Here, are you two going to stop here talking all day ?" "No," cried Mike, springing up, his example being followed by Vince, who was riding on the breech of the other gun.
"Then come on," growled the man, who made off now at a tremendous rate.
Away over furze, and up and down over sunny slopes, where the fallow-chats rose, showing their white tail coverts; in and out among bare patches of granite, which rose above the great clumps of gorse; and still on, till all before them was sea.

Then he began to rapidly descend a gully, where everything that was green was left behind, and they were between two vast walls of rock, almost shut-in by a natural breakwater stretching across, half covered by the sea and sand.