Part 61 (2/2)
”Tropics.”
”The sun's overhead.”
”Sun-stroke.”
”The fire ought to be made in the shadow.”
”There's no shadow here.”
”Let us go into the wood then.”
”Very well--under the beech.”
They went out, and collected a heap of sticks in the shade of the beech at which they had been shooting. Mark lit the fire; Bevis sat down by the beech and watched the flame rise.
”Pot,” he said.
”Pot--what?” said Mark, still sulky.
”Fetch the water.”
”What?”
”Fetch the water.”
”O! I'm not Polly.”
”But I'm captain.”
”Hum!”
However, Mark fetched the pot, filled it at the sh.o.r.e, and presently came back with it, and put it on. Then he sat down too in the shade.
”You've not finished,” said Bevis.
”What else?”
”What else; why the bacon.”
”Get it yourself.”
”Aren't you going?”
”No.”
Bevis went to the hut, cut off a slice of bacon, and put it on.
Mark went to the hut, fetched a handful of biscuits and two apples, and began to eat them.
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