And Muckle, taking his stick, began to scoop up the sand.
Jiggins began to do the same; and for some time both worked diligently.
“Pooh!” said Jiggins, at last. “That stick’s no good.”
“No good? Why not?”
“It won’t hold the sand.”
“Mine does very well.”
“Well, I might as well have nothing. It’s like trying to eat rice with a chopstick, Chinese fashion. I’m going to try another plan.”
“What’s that?”
“Why, like the hens. I’m going to scratch for my food,” said Jiggins. “What were fingers made for?”
And saying this, he began scratching up the sand.