“Very well; have it that way,” said Mike.
“And we ought to go over and see the old man, and tell him what we did.”
“He doesn’t want any telling. He has found it out long enough ago. There was the sail rolled up anyhow, too. I was too much fagged to put it straight. When shall we go and see him?”
“I dunno. I don’t want to move, and I don’t want to have to tell him. He’ll be as savage as can be.”
The boys lay perfectly still now, without speaking or moving; and the gulls came up from below, to see what was the meaning of four legs hanging over the cliff in a row, and then became more puzzled apparently on finding two bodies lying there at the edge; consequently they sailed about to and fro, with their grey backs shining as they wheeled round and gazed inquiringly down, till one, bolder than the rest, alighted about a dozen yards away.
“Keep your eyes shut, Ladle,” said Vince. “Birds are coming to peck ’em out.”
“They’d better not,” said Mike.
“I say, couldn’t we train some gulls, and harness them to a sort of chair, and make them fly with us off the cliff? They could do it if they’d only fly together. I wonder how many it would take.”
“Bother the old gulls! Don’t talk nonsense. When shall we go and see the old man?”
“Must do it, I suppose,” said Vince. “Yes, we ought to: it’s so mean to sneak out of it, else we might send him the five shillings. I hate having to go and own to it, but we must, Ladle. Let’s take the dose now.”