Bevis went slower, and towed steadily in silence. After they had passed the hawthorn under the may-bloom, Mark said, “Bevis,” but Bevis did not answer.
“Bevis,” repeated Mark, “I have had enough now; stop, and you get in.”
“I shall not,” said Bevis. “You are a great story.”
In another minute Mark spoke again:—
“Let me get out and tow you now.” Bevis did not reply. “I say—I say—I say, Bevis.”
No use. Bevis towed him the whole way, till the raft touched the shallow shore of the drinking-place. Then Mark got out and helped him drag the vessel well up on the ground, so that it should not float away.
“Now,” said Bevis, after it was quite done. “Will you be a story any more?”
“No,” said Mark, “I will not be a story again.”
So they walked back side by side to the willow tree; Mark, who was really in the right, feeling in the wrong. At the tree Bevis picked up the auger, and told him to bore the hole. Mark began, but suddenly stopped.
“What’s the good of boring the hole when we have not got any gunpowder,” said he.