“Faither,” said the lad, rising from the rock on which they were seated, “what are ’ee thinkin’ on?”
“I’ve bin thinkin’, Billy, that it’s nigh five years sin’ we come here.”
“That’s an old thought, daddy.”
“May be so, lad, but it’s ever with me, and never seems to grow old.”
There was such a tone of melancholy in the remark of our old friend Gaff, that Billy forbore to pursue the subject.
“My heart is set upon pork to-day, daddy,” said the Bu’ster with a knowing smile. “We’ve had none for three weeks, and I’m gettin’ tired o’ yams and cocoa-nuts and crabs. I shall go huntin’ again.”
“You’ve tried it pretty often of late, without much luck.”
“So I have, but I’ve tried it often before now with pretty fair luck, an’ what has happened once may happen again, so I’ll try. My motto is, ‘Never say die.’”
“A good one, Billy; stick to it, lad,” said Gaff, rising. “And now, we’ll go home to supper. To-morrow we’ll have to mend the fence to keep these same wild pigs you’re so anxious to eat, out of our garden. The nets need mendin’ too, so you’ll have to spin a lot more o’ the cocoa-nut fibre, an’ I’ll have to make a fish-hook or two, for the bones out o’ which I made the last were too small.”
Father and son wended their way down the steep cliffs of the mountain at the foot of which was their cavern home.