“No: what’s the good? Let’s find what there is to see first. I say, Cinder, it will be as good as going to a foreign country seeking adventures. Who knows what we may find?”
“Raven’s nest, for one thing.”
“Yes, I expect that chap has got his wife and young ones somewhere about here. How about a rope? Have you got one at home?”
“Yes; but so have you.”
“I’m not very fond of ours,” said Vince thoughtfully. “It’s a long time since it was new, and we don’t want to have any accidents. You bring a coil of new rope from your boat-shed: we’ll take care of it. And, I tell you what, I’ll bring that little crowbar of ours next time, and a big hammer, so as to drive the bar into some crack. It will be better than holding the rope.”
The talk of their future plans lasted till it was nearly time to part, and they were just arranging for their hour of meeting on the next day when they came suddenly upon old Daygo, at the corner of the lane leading down to his comfortable cottage.
“Art’noon,” he said, with a nod, and fixing his eyes upon each of them searchingly. “Having a walk?”
“Yes,” said Vince carelessly. “When are you going to take us fishing again?”
“Oh! one o’ these fine days, my lads; but you’re getting to be quite men now, and must think more about your books. Been on the cliffs?”
“Yes,” said Vince. “Come on, Mike: it’s tea-time.”