“Hurrah!” I cried. “I’ve got it.”
“And the bread and meat?” cried Shock. “Oh, give us a bit; I am so bad.”
“No,” I said despairingly.
“What! yer won’t give me a bit?” he cried fiercely.
“It isn’t here,” I said. “It was in my pocket, but it’s gone. Stop!” I cried; “it was a big packet and it must have come out.”
I plunged my arms into the soft sand again, and worked away for long, though I was ready to give up again and again, and my fingers were getting painfully sore, but I worked on, and at last, to my great delight, as I dug down something slipped slowly down on to the back of my hands—I had dug down past it, and the sand had brought it out of the side down to me.
“Here it is!” I cried, standing up and shaking the sand away from the paper as I tore it open.
Shock uttered a cry like a hungry dog as he heard the paper rustle, and then I divided the sandwiches in two parts and wrapped one back in the paper.
“What yer doin’?” cried Shock.
“Saving half for next time,” I said. “We mustn’t eat all now.”