CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
THE SMUGGLERS' LANDING.
After my father had finished his story it was arranged that watch should be set, and the arrangement made was that Bob Chowne and I should take the first spell, and it was to last as long as we liked--that is to say, we were to watch until we were tired, and then call my father and Bigley, who would watch for the rest of the night.
Bigley said he should not sleep, but he followed my father's example and lay down, while in a few minutes his regular breathing told that he had gone off; and before long, as Bob Chowne and I sat talking in a low tone, we knew that my father was asleep as well.
And there we two lads sat on the shelf of rock listening to the sobbing and sighing of the tide, and staring out to sea.

Sometimes we talked in a low voice about how uncomfortable some people would be about us, and Bob said it was like my luck--that I had my father with me, while his and Bigley Uggleston's would be in a terrible way.
"And a nice row there'll be about it," he said dolefully.

"There never was such an unlucky chap as I am." "And Big ?" "Oh, Big! Pooh! His father never takes any notice about him." Then we talked about the drilling, and the silver mine and my father's success, and what a fine thing it was for me; and about school-days, and what it would cost to get a new boat for old Jonas, and about Bob going up to London to be a doctor; and we were prosing on, but this gave him a chance to become a little animated.
"I don't want to be a doctor," he said fiercely; "but I'll serve some of 'em out if I'm obliged to be.

I'll let them know!" "What stuff!" I said.

"Why, I should like to be a doctor, and if I was I'd go in for being surgeon on board a ship." "Why ?" said Bob.
"So as to go all round the world, and see what there is to see." "Ah!" said Bob, "I hadn't thought about that; but it isn't half so good as having a mine of your own, as you'll have some day.