The still water glittered under the sun as the light south-east air drew over it, and they could hear a single lark singing on the mainland, somewhere out of sight.
“Somehow we can swim ever so much better here than we used to at home,” said Mark, as they were dressing again.
“Ever so much,” said Bevis; “twice as far.” This was a fact, whether from the continuous outdoor life, or from greater confidence now they were entirely alone.
“How I should like to punch somebody!” said Mark, hitting out his fist.
“My muscles are like iron,” said Bevis, holding out his arm.
“Well, they are hard,” said Mark, feeling Bevis’s arm. So were his own.
“It’s living on an island,” said Bevis. “There’s no bother, and nobody says you’re not to do anything.”
“Only there’s the potatoes to clean. What a nuisance they are!”
They began to dimly perceive that, perhaps, after all, women might be of some use on the earth. They had to go back to the hut to get the dinner ready.
“The rats have been at the potatoes,” said Bevis. “Just look!”