“Have I?” said Vince starting.
“Yes, always going into brown studies. I know: you can’t recollect that problem in Euclid.”
“What, the forty-seventh? Why, that’s the one I recollect best. Guess!”
“What you were thinking about?”
Vince nodded.
“Give it up,” said Mike.
“The Scraw.”
“What about it? That it’s guarded by water goblins and sea serpents and things, as old Joe calls them?”
“No,” said Vince quietly: “I’ve been thinking about it ever since we were out with him that day in the boat.”
“Well, and what do you think?” said Mike, who while he talked was trying how far he could jerk the flat pieces of oyster-shell, of which there were plenty near, off the cliff; but with all his skill—and he could throw far—they seemed, in the immensity around, as if they dropped close to the cliff foot.