“I say, how was that?” he said, staring from one to the other. “I couldn’t stop myself. It was like being on ice.”
“Sea-weed,” said Josh gruffly. “Steady, Will, lad. Don’t you come aboard that way.”
Will did not, but stepped lightly from rock to rock and then into the boat, hardly wetting his feet.
“If I was you, Master Dick,” said Josh, “I’d take an oar and row going back—leastwise if we be going back. Then you won’t hurt a bit.”
“I was going to propose walking home,” said Mr Temple, “and I think that will be best.”
So they were set ashore at the nearest point to the cliff pathway, where a tramp over the hot rocks with the sunshine streaming down upon his head, half dried Dick before he got back to their rooms, where the dinner he ate after a change fully proved that he was none the worse for this second dip.
“I say, father,” he said, “one ought to get used to the sea down here.”
“I think so too,” said his father smiling; “but, Dick, you must not go on like this.”
“No,” said Dick; “it’s Taff’s turn now;” and he said it in so quietly serious a manner that his brother half rose from his seat.
“Oh! by the way, Arthur,” said Mr Temple, “Dick’s accident made me forget yours. How is the wounded leg?”