“No!” cried Dick; “how can it be?”
“Yes, it is,” said Will sturdily; “just like a corner, only lying down instead of standing up.”
“Oh! very well; just as you like,” cried Dick.
“Now suppose,” said Will, “you were running very fast along beside a row of houses like they are at Corntown.”
“Very well: what then?”
“And suppose you wanted to run sharp round the edge of the corner, and I was hiding behind it, and you wanted to catch me.”
“Well, I should catch you,” said Dick.
“No, you would not. You couldn’t turn short round, because you were going so fast; and you’d go some distance before you did, and you’d be right beyond me, and you’d make quite a big curve.”
“Should I? Well, suppose I should,” said Dick, rubbing one ear.
“Well,” said Will, making some more arrows up the perpendicular line which represented, the face of the cliff, “that’s how the wind does. It goes right up here, and gets some distance before it can stop, and then it curves over and flies right over the land, getting lower as it goes, till it touches the ground once more. There, that’s it; and those two dots are you and me.”