“Get out, you great lazy fellow,” cried Bob, whose lips had been apart to oppose my plan; but as soon as Bigley took the other side he was all eagerness to go.
“Oh, all right then,” said Bigley. “I don’t mind. If you’re going I shall come too; but wait a minute.”
As he spoke he set off at a trot down the slope, and as we two threw ourselves down to watch him, we saw him run on and on till he reached the smuggler’s cottage, and go round to the long low slate-roofed shed where his father kept his odds and ends of boat gear, and then he dived in out of sight.
“What’s he gone for?” said Bob.
“Dunno,” I said lazily as I turned over on my chest and kicked the loose slates with my toes. “Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t,” said Bob sourly.
“Yes, I do; he’s gone to get a bit of rope. Don’t you remember when we climbed up last year we didn’t get quite to the top, and you said that if we’d had a bit of rope to throw over the big stone, one of us might have held the end while the other climbed up?”
“No, I don’t remember, and don’t believe I ever said so.”
“Why, that you did, Bob. What’s the good of contradicting?”
“What’s that to you, Sep Duncan?” he retorted. “You arn’t everybody. I shall contradict if I like.”