“I tell you, I won’t.”
“You’re not General Caesar now.”
“I hate you,” pulling up the mainsail. Mark took the rope and fastened it; Bevis sat down to the tiller.
“You’re a beast,” screamed little Charlie, as the sails drew and the boat began to move: the north wind was just aft.
“I never thought you were so selfish,” shouted Val. “Go on—I won’t ask you again.”
“Take that,” said Charlie, “and that—and that.”
He threw three stones, one after the other, with all his might: the third, rising from the surface of the water, struck the Pinta’s side sharply.
“Aren’t they just horrid?” he said to Val.
“I never saw anything like it,” said Val. “But we’ll pay them out, somehow.”
On the boat, Bevis looked back presently, and saw them still standing at the water’s edge.