“So do I,” said Phil.
“Be the powers,” said Pat, “but it’s meself that howlds up both hands to that same.”
“Suppose we go to the Magdalen Islands,” said Bruce. “They’re right in the middle of the gulf, and it’s a very queer place, they say.”
“No, no,” said Bart; “if we go anywhere, let’s go to Anticosti. For my part, I’ve always been wild to go to Anticosti. I don’t believe there’s another island in all the world that’s equal to it. It’s cold, bleak, gloomy, uninhabited, and full of ghosts.”
“Full of fiddlesticks!” exclaimed Arthur. “What do you want of ghosts?”
“Well,” said Bart, placidly, “for my part, I think there is something uncommonly interesting in a haunted island.”
“A haunted island!” repeated Arthur. “Well, my boy, all I’ve got to say is, that if you want anything of that sort, you’ll find the best specimen on Sable Island; so I propose that we go there at once.”
“Sable Island? Why, man alive, that’s ever so far away!” said Tom. “We’d better wait till we’re on our way home, and leave that for the last; though, for my part, I think we’d better give it a wide berth. I go in for some of the gulf islands—St. Paul, for instance, or St. Peter.”
“Well, boys,” said Phil, “since you’re all so crazy about islands, why can’t we go to the Bay of Islands at once? We can have our fill of them there, I should think. For my part I’m indifferent. I’m like Tom; I’ve had my turn at a desert island, and have found out the vanity of Robinson Crusoe.”
“Sure, thin,” said Pat, “and whin we’re about it, we’d betther take the biggist island we can find about here, and that same is Newfoundland. Wouldn’t it be betther to begin with that, thin?”