Lord of the Flies by William Golding

Simon, who got there first, found them for him. Passions beat about Simon on the mountain-top with awful wings.
                "One side's broken."
                Piggy grabbed and put on the glasses. He looked malevolently at Jack.
                "I got to have them specs. Now I only got one eye. Jus' you wait--"
                Jack made a move toward Piggy who scrambled away till a great rock lay between them. He thrust his head over the top and glared at Jack through his one flashing glass.
                "Now I only got one eye. Just you wait--"
                Jack mimicked the whine and scramble.
                "Jus' you wait--yah!"
                Piggy and the parody were so funny that the hunters began to laugh. Jack felt encouraged. He went on scrambling and the laughter rose to a gale of hysteria. Unwillingly Ralph felt his lips twitch; he was angry with himself for giving way.
                He muttered.
                "That was a dirty trick."
                Jack broke out of his gyration and stood facing Ralph. His words came in a shout.
                "All right, all right!"
                He looked at Piggy, at the hunters, at Ralph.
                "I'm sorry. About the fire, I mean. There. I--"
                He drew himself up.
                "--I apologize."
                The buzz from the hunters was one of admiration at this handsome behavior. Clearly they were of the opinion that Jack had done the decent thing, had put himself in the right by his generous apology and Ralph, obscurely, in the wrong. They waited for an appropriately decent answer.
                Yet Ralph's throat refused to pass one. He resented, as an addition to Jack's misbehavior, this verbal trick. The fire was dead, the ship was gone. Could they not see? Anger instead of decency passed his throat.
                "That was a dirty trick."
                They were silent on the mountain-top while the opaque look appeared in Jack's eyes and passed away.
                Ralph's final word was an ingracious mutter.
                "All right. Light the fire."
                With some positive action before them, a little of the tension died. Ralph said no more, did nothing, stood looking down at the ashes round his feet. Jack was loud and active. He gave orders, sang, whistled, threw remarks at the silent Ralph--remarks that did not need an answer, and therefore could not invite a snub; and still Ralph was silent. No one, not even Jack, would ask him to move and in the end they had to build the fire three yards away and in a place not really as convenient.
                So Ralph asserted his chieftainship and could not have chosen a better way if he had thought for days. Against this weapon, so indefinable and so effective, Jack was powerless and raged without knowing why. By the time the pile was built, they were on different sides of a high barrier.
                When they had dealt with the fire another crisis arose. Jack had no means of lighting it. Then to his surprise, Ralph went to Piggy and took the glasses from him. Not even Ralph knew how a link between him and Jack had been snapped and fastened elsewhere.
                "I'll bring 'em back."
                "I'll come too."
                Piggy stood behind him, islanded in a sea of meaningless color, while Ralph knelt and focused the glossy spot. Instantly the fire was alight, Piggy held out his hands and grabbed the glasses back.
                Before these fantastically attractive flowers of violet and red and yellow, unkindness melted away. They became a circle of boys round a camp fire and even Piggy and Ralph were half-drawn in. Soon some of the boys were rushing down the slope for more wood while Jack hacked the pig.