Bevis Part 77

"Frances ought to do this," said Bevis, hot and cross, as amateur cooks always are. "Here, give me some mushrooms, they'll be nice. Don't you wish she was here?"

"Frances!" said Mark in a tone of horror. "No, that I don't!"

In the afternoon they did nothing but wait for Charlie's signal, which he faithfully gave, and then they idled about till tea. Pan did not come back till tea, and then he wagged his tail and looked very mysterious.

"What have you been doing, sir?" said Bevis. Pan wagged and wagged and gobbled up all the b.u.t.tered damper they gave him.

"Now, just see," said Mark. He got up and cut a slice of the cold half-cooked bacon from the shelf. Pan took it, rolled his great brown eyes, showing the whites at the corners, wagged his tail very short like the pendulum of a small clock, and walked outside the gate with it.

Then he came back and begged for more b.u.t.tered damper.

After tea they worked again at the raft, putting in the bulwarks and carried the chest down to it for the locker. For a sail they meant to use the rug which was now hung up for an awning, and to put up a roof thatched with sedges in its place. The sun sank before they had finished, and they then got the matchlock--it was Mark's day--and went into ambush by the glade to see if they could shoot another rabbit. Pan had to be tied and hit once or twice, he wanted to race after the squirrels.

They sat quiet in ambush till they were weary, and the moon was s.h.i.+ning brightly, but the rabbits did not venture out. The noise Pan had made barking after the squirrels had evidently alarmed them, and they could not forget it.

"Very likely he's been scratching at the burries too," whispered Bevis, as the little bats flew round the glade, pa.s.sing scarcely a yard in front of them like large flies. "He shan't leave us again like he did this afternoon."

It was of no use to stay there any longer, so they went quietly round the sh.o.r.e of the island, and seeing something move at the edge of the weeds, though they could not distinguish what, for the willow boughs hung over, Mark aimed and fired. At the report they heard water-fowl scuttling away, and running to the spot Pan brought out two moorhens, one quite dead and the other wounded.

"There," said Bevis, "you've shot every single thing."

"Well, why don't you use shot?--you'll never kill anything with bullets."

"But I will," said Bevis; "I will hit something with bullets. The people in India can hit a sparrow, why can't I? It's my turn to-morrow."

But after supper, bringing out his journal, he found to-morrow was Sunday.

"No, I can't shoot till Monday. Mamma would not like shooting on Sunday."

"No--nor chopping."

"No," said Bevis, "we mustn't do any work."

All the while they were on the island they were, in principle, disobedient, and crossing the wishes of the home authorities. Yet they resolved not to shoot on the Sunday, because the people at home would not like it. When Bevis had entered the launching of the raft and the voyage to Serendib in the journal, they skinned the moorhens and prepared them for cooking.

"This cooking is horrible," said Mark.

"Hateful," said Bevis; "I told you we ought to have Frances."

"O! no; she would want her own way. She wants everything just as she likes, and if she can't have it, she won't do anything."

"There, it's done," said Bevis. "What we want is a slave."

"Of course--two or three slaves, to work and chop wood, and fetch the water."

"Hit them if they don't," said Bevis.

"Like we hit Pan."

"Tie them to a tree and lash them."

"Hard."

"Harder."

"Great marks on their backs."

"Howling!"

"Jolly!"

They played two games at bezique under the awning, and drank the last drop of sherry mixed with water.

"Everything's going," said Bevis. "There's no more sherry, and more than half the flour's gone, and Pan had the last bit of b.u.t.ter on the damper at tea--"

"There ought to be roots on the island," said Mark. "People eat roots on islands."

"Don't think there are any here," said Bevis. "This island is too old for any to grow; it's like Australia, a kind of grey-bearded place with nothing but kangaroos."

Soon afterwards they drew down the curtain and went to sleep. As usual, Pan waited till they were firm asleep, and then slipped out into the moonlight. He was lounging in the courtyard when they got up. By the sun-dial it was eight, and having had breakfast, and left the fire banked up under ashes--wood embers keep alight a long time like that-- they went down to bathe.

"How quiet it is!" said Mark. "I believe it's quieter."

"It does seem so," said Bevis.

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 n.o.body 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!"

Mark came, and saw where something had gnawed the potatoes.

"And lots are gone," he said. "I'm sure there's a lot gone since yesterday."