walk the extreme length of it, and opened the gate and stepped into the footpath that led down to the white sands of the sea. There before him his eyes encountered an amazing sight.
Backed against a rock, making feeble efforts at self-defence, were a couple of children, and before them there was a small figure working a sand shovel with the precision of a rotary plough and the velocity of a whirlwind. The victims against the rock were clawing their eyes and gasping for breath and making an ineffectual effort to return the compliment. To Jamie it was evident that the flying sand was very nearly smothering both of them. A few long strides brought him to the rescue. He grabbed the little Scout by the belt and pulled hard.
“Gently, partner! Go gently!” he said. “You're smothering those children!”
The little Scout lifted the shovel and raised a face of outrage with the offered explanation: “They began it! They picked on me! I wasn’t doing a thing until they threw sand on me half-a-dozen times!”
“No doubt,” said Jamie. “No doubt, but that is not any sufficient reason as to why you should smother them. You're going at them like a whirlwind!”
The little Scout drew to full height. A deep breath filled a heaving chest. There was no disputing the argument offered; “Again I threw as much on each one of them as both of them could throw on me, I had to be goin’ some!”
Jamie took that in slowly.
