it has n't any other name that we know of. We'd always wanted awfully to go out there and explore it, but the only time we ever asked old Captain Moss, who has boats for hire, he said, "Thunderin' bad landin'. Nothin' to see there but a clutter o' gulls' nests," and went on painting the Jolly Nancy, which is his nicest boat.
But the thing that Jerry was pointing out now was very queer indeed. It was just a little too far away to see clearly what had happened, but it seemed as if a piece of rock had fallen away on the side toward us, leaving a jaggedy opening as black as a hat and high enough for a person to stand upright in.
"The entrance to a subaground tunnel!" Greg shouted, leaping up and down in the edge of a wave.
He will say "subaground," and it really is quite as sensible as some words.
"The entrance to a real pirate cave, you