They could not desert their island: it would have been so like running away too, and they had so often talked of Africa and shooting big game. Then to run away when in its presence would have lowered them in their own estimation.
“Can’t,” said Bevis again.
“Can’t,” again repeated Mark. They could not go—they must face It, whatever it was.
“We shall have to look before every step,” said Bevis. “Up in the trees—through the bushes—and the reeds.”
“We must not go in the reeds much: you can’t tell there—”
“No, not much. We must watch at night. First one, and then the other.”
“And keep the fire burning. There ought to be a fence along the top of the cliff.”
“Yes—that’s very awkward: you can’t put stakes in hard sand like that.”
“We must drive in some—and cut them sharp at the top.”
“What a pity the stockade is not sharp at the top!—Nails, that’s it: we must drive in long nails and file the tops off!”