So he altered his mind, and changed his tone.
"I didn't want to upset you, Big, old matey," he said.

"I didn't, did I, Sep Duncan?
Here, what's the good of quarrelling when it's holidays?
There, I won't call you so any more." Bigley's face cleared in a moment, and with a couple of splashes he was at Bob's side with one hand extended, and the other upon his school-fellow's shoulder.
"It's all right," he said quickly.

"Shake hands, and let's get the fish.

There, I'll go for the prawn net and a basket." He ran splashing out of the water, and up over the boulders towards the cottage, leaving me and Bob together.
"I wouldn't be as big as he is," said Bob, "and I wouldn't have such a nasty temper for thousands of pounds.

Here, what are you grinning at ?" "At you." For there was something so comic in his speech, coming as it did from the most ill-tempered boy in the school--Dr Stacey had often said so, and Bob proved it every day of his life--that I burst into a hearty laugh.
Bob stood knee-deep in the water staring hard at me.