“I never thought of that!” exclaimed Gilbert, trying to laugh, but his stiffened face refused to bend into a smile, and the laugh turned into a kind of choke. “But I doubt if they will be able to pick us out, though if they can, we shall have been giving them an entertainment to some tune!” “I am afraid we shall have to roll down the cliff into the sea again and stay there till this gummy stuff has softened,” said Dennis, through his teeth, for it was next to impossible to move his lips without cracking his skin. “And if we do, we shall be in the same state again,” mumbled Ross, with closed mouth. “Besides, how could we swim? We should just flop over with a smack into the mouth of the first fish that chanced to be waiting. Oh, my nose itches terribly! Could you reach it with your elbow, or knee, or foot, or anything, Dennis? I positively can’t bend my arm! My limbs are held as if in a vice.” And he rolled over like a semi-animated mummy and rubbed his face in the grass, which made him sneeze. “I believe that’s split my face off; I felt it crack! And my nose is worse than ever. It’s awful!” he spluttered. “How is it that when you can’t or daren’t scratch, some inaccessible place itches and tickles till one gets frantic?” “For the very same reason that if you forget your pocket-handkerchief, you don’t need it till you recollect it isn’t there, and then you want it urgently,” said Gilbert; and then suddenly,—“didn’t we pass a stream in coming? I believe we are close by it; let us roll in and soak till we get limp.” With that the ‘expedition’ rolled over and over painfully for a hundred yards or so, when they got to the bank, down which they tumbled into the narrow and shallow stream which flowed from a spring a little higher on the hill. Down they went, one after the other, all in line, the head of one to the feet of the one higher, which was accomplished with considerable pain and difficulty. Their bodies dammed up the narrow stream, and in a short time the water was raised sufficiently high to flow over them. “We shall soon soften now,” observed Dennis, painfully trying to brighten up the spirits of his companions. “I hope we shall, for my only object in life just now is to kill a beetle which is stuck on my eyebrow, and he won’t be worked off, the brute!” exclaimed Ross, irritably. “I believe he is either plucking it out or biting it off!” “Keep calm, old man!” said Gilbert, soothingly, “it shows his appreciation of you, and you ought to feel flattered—Great Bona! A gnat or something is biting my nose, and I can’t wash him off!” “Keep calm, old man!” repeated Ross, mockingly, “it shows his appreciation!” “That’s all very well, Ross, but——” and Gilbert broke off to laugh, or rather, he attempted to do so.