Free The Sea of Adventure by Enid Blyton Page B

there's room for heaps of things. Oh, we are going to have a lovely time here!"
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 11
     
    HUFFIN AND PUFFIN
     
     
     
    "ISN'T it about time we had a meal?" complained Jack, staggering over with a great pile of things in his arms. "It makes my mouth water to read 'Spam' and 'Best Tinned Peaches' and see that milk chocolate."
     
    Bill looked at his watch and then at the sun. "My word — it certainly is time! The sun is setting already! How the time has flown!"
     
    It wasn't long before they were all sitting peacefully on tufts of sea-pink and heather, munching biscuits and potted meat, and looking forward to a plate of tinned peaches each. Bill had brought bottles of ginger-beer from the boat, and these were voted better than boiling a kettle to make tea or cocoa. It was very warm indeed.
     
    "I feel so happy," said Lucy-Ann, looking over the island to the deep-blue sea beyond. "I feel so very very far away from everywhere — honestly I hardly believe there is such a thing as school, just at this very minute. And this potted meat tastes heavenly."
     
    Philip's white rats also thought it did. They came out from his clothes at once when they smelt the food. One sat daintily upright on his knee, nibbling. Another took his tit-bit into a dark pocket. The third perched on Philip's shoulder.
     
    "You tickle the lobe of my ear," said Philip. Dinah moved as far from him as she could, but she was too happy, like Lucy-Ann, to find fault with anything just then.
     
    They all ate hungrily, Bill too, their eyes fixed on the setting sun and the gold-splashed sea, which was now losing its blue, and taking on sunset colours. Lucy-Ann glanced at Bill.
     
    "Do you like disappearing, Bill?" she asked. "Don't you think it's fun?"
     
    "Well — for a fortnight, yes," said Bill, "but I'm not looking forward to living in these wild islands all alone, once you've gone. It's not my idea of fun. I'd rather live dangerously than like one of these puffins here."
     
    "Poor Bill," said Dinah, thinking of him left by himself, with only books to read, and the wireless, and nobody to talk to.
     
    "I'll leave you my rats, if you like," offered Philip generously.
     
    "No, thanks," said Bill promptly. "I know your rats! They'd have umpteen babies, and by the time I left this would be Rat Island not Puffin Island. Besides, I'm not so much in love with the rat-and-mouse tribe as you are."
     
    "Oh, look, do look!" suddenly said Dinah. Everyone looked. A puffin had left its nearby burrow and was walking solemnly towards them, rolling a little from side to side, as all the puffins did when they walked. "It's come for its supper!"
     
    "Then sing, puffin, sing!" commanded Jack. "Sing for your supper!"
     
    "Arrrrrrrrr!" said the puffin deeply. Everyone laughed. The puffin advanced right up to Philip. It stood close against the boy's knee and looked at him fixedly.
     
    "Philip's spell is working again," said Lucy-Ann enviously. "Philip, what makes all animals and birds want you to be friends with them? Just look at that puffin — it's going all goofy over you."
     
    "Don't know," said Philip, pleased with his queer new friend. He stroked the bird's head softly, and the puffin gave a little arrrrr of pleasure. Then Philip gave it a bit of potted-meat sandwich and the bird tossed it off at once and turned for more.
     
    "Now I suppose you'll be followed round by a devoted puffin," said Dinah. "Well, a puffin is better than three rats, any day — or mice — or that awful hedgehog with fleas that you had — or that pair of stag-beetles — or . . ."
     
    "Spare us, Dinah, spare us," begged Bill. "We all know that Philip is a walking zoo. Personally, if he likes a goofy puffin, he can have it. I don't mind a bit. It's a pity we haven't bought a collar and lead."
     
    The puffin said "Arrrr" again, a little more loudly, and then walked off, perfectly upright, its brilliant beak gleaming in the setting sun.
     
    "Well, you didn't