“Let’s both go.”
“Then we should be no wiser, because there would be no one out here to listen.”
“No,” said Fred; and then, “Let’s have another try.”
They had another try—a long and careful search, but the entrance had been too cunningly masked.
“It’s of no use,” said Scarlett, drawing in the oars. “One of us must go.”
Silence. And Fred seemed to be deeply interested in the proceedings of a great flap-winged heron which had alighted on the further shore.
“Will you go, Fred?” said Scarlett, at last.
“No. It’s your place, and you ought to go.”
“Yes,” said Scarlett, slowly; “I suppose I ought.”
“No, no, I’ll go,” cried Fred, eagerly. “I will not be so shabby. Let’s cut a stick, and then set me ashore.”