leaping like savages on their lawn. No! They were too awful.
On the other side of the beach, close down to the water, two little boys, their knickers rolled up, twinkled like spiders. One was digging, the other pattered in and out of the water, filling a small bucket. They were the Trout boys, Pip and Rags. But Pip was so busy digging and Rags was so busy helping that they didn’t see their little cousins until they were quite close.
“Look!” said Pip. “Look what I’ve discovered.” And he showed them an old, wet, squashed-looking boot. The three little girls stared.
“Whatever are you going to do with it?” asked Kezia.
“Keep it, of course!” Pip was very scornful. “It’s a find—see?”
Yes, Kezia saw that. All the same . . .
“There’s lots of things buried in the sand,” explained Pip. “They get chucked up from wrecks. Treasure. Why—you might find”
“But why does Rags have to keep on pouring water in?” asked Lottie.
“Oh, that’s to moisten it,” said Pip, “to make the work a bit easier. Keep it up, Rags.”
And good little Rags ran up and down, pouring in the water that turned brown like cocoa.
“Here, shall I show you what I found yesterday?” said Pip mysteriously, and he stuck his
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