“Yes,” said Rory, “as for me?”
“You’re rotund already,” said McBain.
“No more shape than a sun-fish,” added Ralph, revengefully.
Of course, after so daring a remark Ralph had to run for it, and so away he went, scampering along the deck with Rory in hot pursuit, but he had to save himself by making a back, over which Rory vaulted, and placed himself in position a few yards beyond.
“Oh?” cried Allan, “if it’s leapfrog, I’m in too.”
And off he went, bounding like a deer over Ralph, and over Rory.
“Keep the pot a-boiling!” cried Ralph.
And so, with many a shout and many a joke, round and round the Snowbird’s deck vaulted and ran our merry boy-heroes; but when it came to shoulders high, then their increase in bulk—the “perwision o’ Natur’,” as Seth termed it—told a tale. Ralph cleared Rory, but floundered over Allan, then Rory jumped on top of them both, and the whole three went rolling over on the deck, and Oscar and the wolf and the little Skye, who had been making bears of them, and legging them, all got mixed.
They extricated themselves at last, and then settled seriously to work. Off went their jackets.
“No more high leaps,” cried Ralph.