Tommy kept a respectful silence. He was impressed by little William. It seemed to remove the menace of Mr. Brown farther away.
The path was now running along the side of the cliff, parallel to the sea. Suddenly Julius came to such an abrupt halt that Tommy cannoned into him.
“What’s up?” he inquired.
“Look there. If that doesn’t beat the band!”
Tommy looked. Standing out half obstructing the path was a huge boulder which certainly bore a fanciful resemblance to a “begging” terrier.
“Well,” said Tommy, refusing to share Julius’s emotion, “it’s what we expected to see, isn’t it?”
Julius looked at him sadly and shook his head.
“British phlegm! Sure we expected it—but it kind of rattles me, all the same, to see it sitting there just where we expected to find it!”
Tommy, whose calm was, perhaps, more assumed than natural, moved his feet impatiently.
“Push on. What about the hole?”
They scanned the cliff-side narrowly. Tommy heard himself saying idiotically:
“The gorse won’t be there after all these years.”
And Julius replied solemnly:
“I guess you’re right.”