“If you see that boy o’ mine—”
“What, Lobster?” said Vince.
“Eh? lobster?” said the man eagerly. “Ay, if you ketch any, you might leave us one as you come back. I arn’t seen one for a week.”
“All right,” said Mike, after a merry glance at Vince; “if we get any we’ll leave you one.”
“Ay, do, lad,” said the man. “Good for them as has to tyle all day. If you see my boy, tell him I want him. I’m not going to do all the work and him nothing.”
“We’ll tell him,” said Vince.
“And if he says he won’t come, you lick him, mind. Don’t you be feared.”
The boys were pretty well out of hearing when the last words were spoken; and after a sharp trot, along by the side of the cliff where it was possible, they came to the rugged descent leading to old Daygo’s tiny port.
This time they were not disappointed, for they caught sight of the old man’s cap as he stood below with his back to them, driving a wooden peg into a crack in the rock with a rounded boulder, ready for hanging up some article of fishing-gear.
“You ask him,” said Mike: “he likes you best.”