“Well, what are you doing that for?” cried Bob.
“Let’s send down the big boulder.”
We looked up at the great stone which we had long ago dubbed the Boulder, because it was so much like one of the well-rolled pieces on the shore, and there it lay a hundred feet beyond us, looking as if a touch would send it thundering down.
“Hooray!” cried Bob. “Why, I say, Sep, he isn’t half such a stupid as you said he was.”
“I didn’t say he was stupid,” I cried indignantly.
“Oh, yes, you did!” said Bob with a grin; “but never mind now. Come on, lads. I say, it’s steeper there, and as soon as it comes down it will make such a rush.”
“Can’t hurt anything, can it?” I said dubiously.
“Yes; it’ll hurt you if you stand underneath,” said Bob grinning. “Come along. What can it hurt? Why, it wouldn’t even hurt a sheep if there was one there. My! Wouldn’t he scuttle away if he heard it coming.”
Bob was right, there was nothing to harm, and the displacement of a big stone in what was quite a wilderness of rough fragments would not even be noticed. So up we climbed, and in a few minutes were well on the ridge grouped on one side of the big boulder.
“Now, then,” Bob cried; “you are strongest, old Big, and you shall help her. Look here; I’ll get the bar under, and Sep and I will hoist. Then you put your shoulder under this corner and heave, and over she goes.”