“Ah!” exclaimed Vane eagerly. “Where was it?”
“Oh, you couldn’t find the place again. I couldn’t, but there were such big ones; and what do you think I said?”
“How should I know?” said Vane, trampling down the brambles, so as to make the way easier for his companion.
“I said I wish the nasty pig was here, and he could feast for a month.”
“Thank you,” said Vane. “I don’t care. I can only pity ignorant people. But whereabouts did you leave Gil and Distin?”
“I don’t know, I tell you. Under an oak tree.”
“Yes, but which?”
“Oh, somewhere. I had a pretty job to find my way out, and I didn’t till I had picked out a great beech tree to sleep in to-night, and began thinking of collecting acorns for food.”
“Why didn’t you shout?”
“I did, till I was so hoarse I got down to a whisper. Oh, I say, why did you let that bit of furze fly back?”