“What, with a place like a jolly island all to yourself, where you live like a Robinson Crusoe and can keep tame magpies and anything you like, and your boat, and your dog, and eel-spear?”
“And nets,” put in Tom.
“And fishing-lines,” said Dick.
“And gun,” said Tom.
“Ay, lads,” said Dave gravely; “seems aw reight to you, but it be lonesome sometimes when the bootherboomps get running out o’ the reeds in the dark evenings and then go sailing high up and round and round.”
“Oh, I should like that!” said Dick.
“Nay, lad, yow wouldn’t. It would scar yow. Then o’ soft warm nights sometimes the frogs begins, and they go on crying and piping all round you for hours.”
“Pooh!” said Tom; “who’d mind a few frogs?”
“And then o’ still nights theer’s the will o’ the wipses going about and dancing over the holes in the bog.”
“I say, Dave, what is a will o’ the wisp really like?”