“Brace buckles! Why, your brace buckles are always coming off,” said Bob. “I wouldn’t be such a great lumbering chap as you are for all Devonshire and part o’ Wales.”
“I can’t help it,” said Bigley sadly, as he tried to repair damages, and failing that, secured his clothing by tying his braces tightly round his waist. “I didn’t want to grow so big all at once. Everybody laughs at me for it.”
“Nobody minds your being big,” cried Bob, “if you would only be useful. Your braces are always breaking.”
“I’m very sorry, Bob, old chap.”
“What’s the good of being sorry now?” replied Bob. “You’ve spoiled all the fun. It’s no use stopping if you chaps won’t help.”
“Why, we did help, Bob,” I said, “and the stone didn’t move a bit. It’s too heavy.”
“It did move, I tell you. If you want to quarrel you’d better say so, and I’ll be off home. I don’t want to fight.”
“More do I, Bob,” I replied; “but it didn’t really move. Did it, Big?”
“If you say it didn’t, Big, I’ll give you a crack right in the eye,” cried Bob fiercely, as he doubled his fist.
Bigley’s mouth was opened to speak, but Bob was so energetic and fierce that it remained like a round O, and the great fellow looked so comical that I burst out into a fit of laughter which set Bob laughing too, and this made Big stare at us both in a puzzled way; but by degrees he caught the mood of the moment and laughed too, and the cloud that overhung our expedition drifted away.