“Never mind,” said Bob sourly, “they’re rather out of season if you do catch them now. I don’t mind.”
For another half hour or so, with the tide coming whispering and lapping in, we went on prawning, getting a dozen fine ones.
Then Bob insisted upon bathing, and it was only by an effort we stopped him from going into the water at so dangerous a spot.
It was Big who took off his attention at last, by telling him that he could not scale the big rock and get on the top.
“Tchah!” cried Bob sneeringly; “why, I could almost hop on it.”
We laughed at him, and he began to peer about for one of the surrounding pieces to form a step to help him part of the way, but all were too distant, the great stone lying quite isolated. There was one spot, though, where the big stone was split, as if some gigantic wedge had been driven in to open it a little way, and here, as it was encrusted with limpets, there seemed to be a good prospect for us to climb up the roughened sides.
As it proved it was like many tasks in life, it looked more difficult than it really was, and by the exercise of a little agility and some mutual help we contrived to get to the top, where there was a large depression like a caldron, scooped out by the action of the sea upon a heavy boulder lying therein, and which looked as if, when the waves beat, it must be driven round and round and to and fro.
We all sat down with our legs in the hole, following Bigley’s example as he set himself to watch the coming of his father’s boat, which was growing plainer now every minute, and trying, by spreading all the sail she could, to reach the Gap.
“I wonder how long she’ll be?” said Bob, sitting there with his chin upon his hands.
“About an hour,” replied Bigley.