“I believe he’s been home,” said Mark. “Very likely Polly throws the bones out still by his house.”
“That’s it: you old glutton!” said Bevis.
Pan jumped on the bed, licked Mark, then jumped on Bevis’s knees, leaving the marks of his wet paws, to which the sand had adhered, then he barked and wagged his tail as much as to say, “Am I not clever?”
“O! yes,” said Mark, “you’re very knowing, but you won’t do that again.”
“No, that you won’t, sir,” said Bevis. “You’ll be tied up to-night.”
“Tight as tight,” said Mark. “Just think,” said Bevis. “He must have swum all down the channel we came up on the catamaran. Why it’s a hundred and fifty yards—”
“Or two hundred—only some of it is shallow. Perhaps he could bottom some part—”
“But not very far—and then run all the way home, and then all the way back, and then swim off again.”
“A regular voyage—and every night too.”
“You false old greedy Pan!”