"And then what'll we do?" said the boy. "Let's do something harmless for a bit, hunt for shells or shrimps or . . ."
"Treasure," suggested Fiona, rather shyly. And by the time they had reached the house, and she had repaired the Urchin, and disposed the wounded bird as comfortably as possible, the boy had been put in possession of the essential facts of the case.
"Mar-vellous," was the Urchin's comment. "Now, don't you see, Fiona? you can have your treasure when we find it, and I'll have the Spanish treasure when we find it, and there we both are. I want lots and lots and lots of those doubloons."
"What for?" said Fiona.
"Gun," said the Urchin. "Donald Ruadh has an old gun which he would sell me for two pounds. He says one barrel shoots all right sometimes. And I would use the rest of the doubloons to buy cartridges, and then I could kill curlews."
"You little wretch," said the girl. "You won't kill my curlews while I'm about. And anyhow your old gun would probably blow you up first. And anyhow you haven't got the doubloons yet. And they're not yours if you do find them."
"Whose would they be?" asked the Urchin.
"I suppose my father's," said Fiona. "But it depends on which cave they were in."
"Come on, then," said the boy. "I'm going to ask him for them."
The Student took the interruption good-humoredly.