"Thank goodness!" said Bones, relieved. "You're a jolly old accountant, Ali. I'd never have found it."
"Sir," said Ali, "some subjects, by impetuous application, omit vision of intricate detail. This is due to subjects' lack of concentration."
"Have it your way," said Bones, "but get the statement out for me to copy."
He awoke the girl from a profound reverie—which centred about shy and solemn bachelors who adopted whole nations of murderous children as their own—and proceeded to "take charge."
This implied the noisy issuing of orders which nobody carried out, the manipulation of a telescope, anxious glances at the heavens, deep and penetrating scrutinies of the water, and a promenade back and forward from one side of the launch to the other. Bones called this "pacing the bridge," and invariably carried his telescope tucked under his arm in the process, and, as he had to step over Pat's feet every time, and sometimes didn't, she arrested his nautical wanderings.
"You make me dizzy," she said. "And isn't that the island?"
In the early hours of the afternoon they re-embarked, the capita of the village coming to the beach to see them off.
They brought back with them a collection of spear-heads, gruesome execution knives, elephant swords, and wonder-working steel figures.
"And the lunch was simply lovely, Bones," agreed the girl, as the Wiggle turned her nose homeward. "Really, you can be quite clever sometimes."