At the top of the hill Kit looked about him.
The Wish thrust out into the brown beach, a natural watch-tower, some hundred feet high. This was no doubt the bump of green he had seen from the dew-pond.
Eastward a long sweep of shingle embraced Pevensey Bay. Westward,
Beachy Head shouldered out into the sea.
It was nearly low tide. Barriers of black rocks bound the sea.
On the edge of it a boy in a blue jersey danced. In his hand was a sea-weed scourge; and as the sea toppled in tiny ripples at his feet, he spanked it, leaping back to avoid the touch of the water. As he leapt he yelled; and in the stillness his pure treble rose to them.
"Hod back, ye saucy thing! hod back, I say!"
The Parson put his hand to his mouth.
"Blob!" he holloaed.
The boy looked up, and with a parting spank came towards them.
"Who's that?" asked Kit, "and what's he doing?"