Chapter Thirty Eight.

Chapter Thirty Eight.The Crowning Point of the Trip.“Come and lay hold o’ one scull,” said Bob, whose eyes seemed to be fixed as he stared at the back of their enemy. “Oh, do be quick!”Dexter slipped into his place, took the scull, and began to row.“Getting closer, ain’t he?” whispered Bob hoarsely. “Yes. I’m afraid so.”“Pull, pull!”Dexter needed no telling, and he tugged away at the oar as the boat glided a little more swiftly on.“Ain’t leaving him behind, are we!” growled Bob, whose face now grew convulsed with horror. “No; I’m afraid he’s coming nearer.”“Oh dear, oh dear!” groaned Bob. “He’ll half-kill me, and it’s all your fault. Let’s stop rowing and give him the boat.”“That we won’t,” cried Dexter, setting his teeth. “I’ll row till I die first.”“But it’ll only make him more savage,” growled Bob. “I wish I was safe at home.”“You’re not half-pulling, Bob.”“It’s of no use, matey. He’s sure to ketch us, and the furder we rows, the more wild he’ll be.”“I don’t care,” cried Dexter; “he shan’t have it if I can help it. Row!”In his most cowardly moments Bob was obedience itself, and breaking out into a low sobbing whimper, as if it were a song to encourage him in his task, he rowed on with all his might, while only too plainly it could be seen that the man was gaining steadily upon them in spite of the clumsiness of his boat; and consequently it was only a question of time before the boys were overtaken, for the muscles of the man were certain to endure longer than those of Dexter, untrained as they were to such work.“He’s closer, ain’t he?” whined Bob.“Yes, ever so much,” replied Dexter, between his set teeth.“Well, jest you recollect it was you hit him that whack on the head. I didn’t do nothing.”“Yes, you did,” said Dexter sharply. “You said,yah! at him, and called him names.”“No, I didn’t. Don’t you be a sneak,” whined Bob. “You were ever so much worse than me. Is he coming closer?”“Yes.”It was a fact, closer and closer, and the tide ran so strongly now that the boys had hard work to make much progress. They did progress, though, all the same, for their boat was narrow and sharp. Still the current was dead against them, and their want of movement added to their despair.Bad as it was for them, however, it was worse for the man in his heavy little broadly-bowed tub; and so it happened that just as Bob began to row more slowly, and burst into a fit of howling, which made Dexter feel as if he would like to turn and hit him over the head with his oar—a contact of scull against skull—the man suddenly ceased rowing, turned in his seat, and sat shaking his fist at them, showing his teeth in his impotent rage.“There!” cried Bob, who was transformed in an instant. “We’ve bet him. He can’t pull no further. Yah! yah!”Bob changed back to his state of cowardly prostration, and began to tug once more at his oar, for his derisive yell galvanised the man once more into action, and the pursuit was continued.“Oh!” howled Bob. “Who’d ha’ thought o’ that?”“Who’s stupid now?” panted Dexter, as he too rowed with all his might.Bob did nothing but groan, and the pursuit and flight were once more continued, each moment with despair getting a stronger hold of the fugitives. The oar felt hot in Dexter’s blistered hands, a peculiar sensation of heaving was in his chest, his eyes began to swim, and he was just about to cease rowing, when he could hardly believe his starting eyes—their enemy had once more given up the pursuit, and was sitting wrenched round, and staring after them.“Don’t, pray, don’t shout at him this time, Bob,” panted Dexter.“I won’t if you’re afraid,” said the young scoundrel.“Keep on rowing, or he’ll come after us again.”Bob’s scull was dipped again directly, and the motion of the boat was kept up sufficiently to counteract the drift of the tide, while the man in the little tub was swept rapidly away.“Let’s get over the other side to those trees,” said Dexter, as he felt that he could row no further, and the boat’s head was directed half-across the stream so as to reach the clump of willows indicated, where, after a much heavier pull than they had anticipated, the gig was made fast, and Bob’s first act after laying down his scull was to lean over the side and drink heartily of the muddy water.Dexter would gladly have lain down to rest, but there was a watch to keep up.Bob mocked at the idea.“Yah!” he said; “he won’t some any more. I say, are you nearly dry?”“Nearly,” said Dexter, “all but my boots and socks.”These he took off, and put in the sun to dry, as he sat there with his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands, watching till Bob was asleep.He was faint and hungry, and the idea was strong in his mind that the man would steal down upon them when he was not expected. This thought completely drove away all drowsiness, though it did not affect his companion in the slightest degree.The next thing ought to have been to get some food, but there was no likely place within view, and though several boats and a barge or two passed, the fear of being questioned kept the watcher from hailing them, and asking where he could get some bread and milk.The hours glided slowly by, but there was no sign of the shabby little boat. The tide ran up swiftly, and the gig swung easily from its chain; and as Dexter sat there, hungry and lonely, he could not keep his thoughts at times from the doctor’s comfortable house.Towards evening the socks and boots were so dry that Dexter replaced them, looking down the while rather ruefully at his mud-stained trousers. He rubbed them and scratched the patches with his nails; but the result was not satisfactory, and once more he sat gazing up the river in expectation of seeing their enemy come round the bend.It was getting late, and the tide had turned, as Dexter knew at once by the way in which the boat had swung round with its bows now pointing up-stream. And now seemed the time when the man might appear once more in pursuit.The thought impressed him so that he leaned over and shook Bob, who sat up and stared wonderingly about.“Hallo!” he said. “What time is it!”“I don’t know, but the tide has turned, and that man may come after us again.”“Nay, he won’t come any more,” said Bob confidently. “Let’s go and get something to eat.”It was a welcome proposal, and the boat being unmoored, Dexter took one of the sculls, and as they rowed slowly down with the tide he kept his eyes busy watching for the coming danger, but it did not appear.Bob went ashore at a place that looked like a ferry, where there was a little public-house, and this time returned with a small loaf, a piece of boiled bacon, and a bottle of cider.“I’d ha’ brought the bacon raw, and we’d ha’ cooked it over a fire,” said Bob, “only there don’t seem to be no wood down here, and there’s such lots of houses.”Dexter did not feel troubled about the way in which the bacon was prepared, but sat in the boat, as it drifted with the tide, and ate his portion ravenously, but did not find the sour cider to his taste.By the time they had finished, it was growing dark, and lights were twinkling here and there on either bank, showing that they were now in a well-populated part.“Where are we to sleep to-night, Bob?” said Dexter at last.“Dunno yet. Can’t see no places.”“We must be near the sea now, mustn’t we?”“Yes, pretty handy to it,” said Bob, with the confidence of one in utter ignorance. “We shall be there to-morrow, and then we can catch heaps of cod-fish, and soles, and mack’rel, and find oysters. It’ll be all right then.”This was encouraging, but somehow Dexter did not feel so much confidence in his companion as of old.But Bob’s rest, and the disappearance of danger had brought him back to his former state, and he was constantly making references to the departed enemy.“I should just liked to have ketched him touching me!” he said. “I’d ha’ give his shins such a kicking as would soon have made him cry ‘Leave off.’”Dexter sat and stared through the gloom at the young Gascon.“I’d ha’ soon let him know what he’d get if he touched me.”“Hi, Bob! look out!”Bob uttered a cry of dread, and nearly jumped overboard as something still and dark suddenly loomed up above him. Then there was a bump, which nearly finished what the boy had felt disposed to do; and then they were gliding along by the side of a vessel anchored in midstream.As they swept past the stern the boat bumped again against something black and round, which proved to be a floating tub. With this they seemed to have become entangled, for there was a rasping grating noise, then the boat’s chain began to run rapidly over the bows, the boat swung round, and their further progress was checked. A piece of the chain with the hook had been left hanging over, and when they had touched the tub buoy the hook had caught, and they were anchored some little distance astern the large vessel.“Here’s a game!” cried Bob, as soon as he had recovered from his astonishment. “Well, we can’t go on in the dark. Let’s stop here.”“But we’ve got to find a place to sleep, Bob,” protested Dexter.“Yah! you’re always wanting to go to sleep. There ain’t no place to sleep ashore, so let’s sleep in the boat. Why, we shall always have to bunk down there when we get out to sea.”“But suppose the boat should sink?”“Yah! suppose it did. We’d swim ashore. Only mind you don’t get outer bed in the night and walk into the water. I don’t want to go to sleep at all.”Dexter did not feel drowsy, but again he could not help thinking of his room with the white hangings, and of how pleasant it would be to take off his clothes once more and lie between sheets.“Some chaps is always thinking about going to bed,” said Bob jauntily. “Long as I gets a nap now and then, that’s all I want.”Dexter did not know it, but Bob Dimsted was a thorough-paced second-hand boy. Every expression of this kind was an old one, such as he had heard from his father, or the rough men who consorted with him, from the bullying down to the most playful remark. But, as aforesaid, Dexter did not realise all this. He had only got as far as the fact that Bob was not half so nice as he used to be, and that, in spite of his boasting and bullying, he was not very brave when put to the test.“There, I shan’t go to sleep yet. You can have one o’ them cushins forward,” said Bob at last; and, suffering now from a sudden feeling of weariness, Dexter took one of the cushions forward, placed it so as to be as comfortable as possible, realising as he did this that, in spite of his words, Bob was doing the same with two cushions to his one, and before he had been lying there long, listening to the rippling of the water, and gazing up at the stars, a hoarse, wheezing noise proclaimed the fact that Bob Dimsted was once more fast asleep.Dexter was weary now in the extreme, the exertion and excitement he had gone through had produced, in connection with the irregular feeding, a state of fatigue that under other circumstances might have resulted in his dropping off at once, but now he could only lie and listen, and keep his eyes dilated and wide open, staring for some danger which seemed as if it must be near.He did not know what the danger might be, unless it was that man with the boat, but something seemed to threaten, and he could not sleep.Then, too, he felt obliged to think about Bob and about their journey. Where they were going, what sort of a place it would be, and whether they would be any more happy when they got to some beautiful island; for he was fain to confess that matters were very miserable now, and that the more he saw of Bob Dimsted the less he liked him.He was in the midst of one of his thoughtful moods, with Bob for his theme, and asking himself what he should do if Bob did begin to thrash him first time they were on shore; and he had just come to the conclusion that he would not let Bob thrash him if he could help it, when Bob suddenly leaped forward and hit him a round-handed sort of blow, right in the back of the neck.This so enraged him that he forgot directly all about companionship, and the sort of tacit brotherly compact into which they had entered, and springing at his assailant he struck him a blow in the chest, which sent him staggering back.For a moment or two Bob seemed to be beaten; then he came at him furiously, the turf was trampled and slippery, and they both went down; then they got up again, and fought away, giving and taking blows, every one of which sounded with a loud slap.That fight seemed as if it would never end, and Dexter felt as if he were getting the worst of it, consequent upon an inherent dislike to inflict pain, and his having passed over again and again opportunities for administering effective blows. At last they joined in what became little more than a wrestle, and Dexter felt the ground giving way beneath his feet; the back of his neck hurt him terribly, and he was about to give in, when the boys began to cheer, Mr Sibery ran up with the cane, and the doctor came looking stern and frowning, while he saw Helen Grayson put her hand to her eyes and turn away.“It’s all Bob Dimsted’s fault,” he cried passionately; and he woke up with the words upon his lips, and a crick in the back of his neck, consequent upon the awkward cramped-up position in which he had lain.It was broad daylight, and for a few moments he was too much confused to understand where he was; but as he realised it all, and cast a quick look round in search of danger, he saw that they were hooked on to the slimy buoy, that twenty yards further there was the hull of an old schooner, against which they had been nearly capsized the previous evening, and four or five hundred yards beyond that, slowly paddling along, was their enemy, looking over his shoulder as if he had seen them, and meant to make sure of them now.Dexter hesitated between wakening Bob and setting the boat adrift.He decided on doing the latter, and hauling on the chain, he drew the boat right up to the buoy, followed the chain with his hands till he could touch the hook, and after some difficulty, his efforts reminding him of the night when he unfastened the chain in the boat-house—he dragged the hook from where it clung to a great rusty link, and all the time his eyes were as much fixed upon the man in the boat as upon the task he had in hand.Clear at last, and drifting away again. That was something towards safety, and he now stepped over the thwarts and shook Bob.Bob was too comfortable to open his eyes, and no matter what his companion did he could get no reply till he bent lower, and, inspired by the coming danger, shouted in his ear—“I’ve got yer at last.”Bob sprang up as if electrified, saw who spoke, and was about to burst into a torrent of angry abuse, when he followed the direction of Dexter’s pointing hand, caught the approaching danger, and seized an oar.It was none too soon, for as Dexter seized the other, the man evidently realised that his prey was about to make another effort to escape, and, bending to his work, he sent the little tub-like boat surging through the water.“Pull, Bob!” said Dexter excitedly, an unnecessary order, for Bob had set his teeth, and, with his face working, was tugging so hard that it needed all Dexter’s efforts to keep the boat from being pulled into the right-hand shore.The chase had begun in full earnest, and for the next hour, with very little alteration in their positions, it kept on. Then the pace began to tell on the boys. They had for some time been growing slower in their strokes, and they were not pulled so well home. Bob engaged every now and then in a dismal, despairing howl, usually just at the moment when Dexter thrust his oar too deeply in the water, and had hard work to get it out.But their natural exhaustion was not of such grave consequence as might have been imagined, for their pursuer was growing weary too, and his efforts were greatly wanting in the spirit he displayed at first. On the other hand, though the man came on slowly, he rowed with a steady, stubborn determination, which looked likely to last all the morning, and boded ill for those of whom he was in chase.Bob’s face was a study, but Dexter’s back was toward him, and he could not study it. The enemy was about two hundred yards behind, and whenever he seemed to flag a little Bob’s face brightened; but so sure as the man glanced over his shoulder, and began to pull harder, the aspect of misery, dread, and pitiable helplessness Bob displayed was ludicrous; and at such times he glanced to right and left to see which was the nearest way to the shore.As Bob rowed he softly pushed off his boots. Soon after he made three or four hard tugs at his oar, and then, by a quick movement, drew one arm out of his jacket. Then rowing with one hand he shook himself quite clear of the garment, so as to be unencumbered when he began to swim, for that was his intention as soon as the man overtook them, and his peril became great.“He wants most of all to get the boat,” he thought to himself; and soon after he opened his heart to Dexter.“Lookye here!” he said, “he wants to get the boat; and if he can get that he won’t come after us. Let’s row pretty close to the bank, and get ashore and run.”“What! and leave the boat?” cried Dexter. “That I’m sure I will not.”Dexter pulled all the harder after hearing this proposal, and Bob uttered a moan.All that morning the flight and pursuit were kept up, till on both sides it became merely a light dipping of the oars, so as to keep the boats’ heads straight, the tide carrying them along.It was plain enough now that they were getting toward the mouth of the river, which was now quite broad. Houses were growing plentiful, barges lay at wharves or moored with other boats in the stream, and care had to be exercised to avoid coming in collision with the many obstacles in their way.But they kept on; and though at Bob’s piteous suggestion they wound in and out among the many crafts in the hope of shaking off their pursuer, it was all in vain, for he kept doggedly on after them, with the matter-of-fact determination of a weasel after a rabbit, sure of its scent, and certain that before long the object of the pursuit would resign itself to its fate.On still in a dreary mechanical way. Dexter could hardly move his arms, and Bob was, in spite of his long experience, almost as helpless.“It’s of no use,” the latter said at last; and he ceased rowing.“No, no, Bob; don’t give in!” cried Dexter excitedly. “We shall soon tire him out now. Row! Row!”“Can’t,” said Bob drearily. “I haven’t another pull in me.”“Then give me the other scull, and let me try.”“Yah! you couldn’t pull both,” cried Bob. “There, I’m going to try a hundred more strokes, and then I shall swim ashore. I ain’t going to let him catch me.”“Pull, then, a hundred more,” cried Dexter excitedly. “Oh, do make it two, Bob! He’ll be tired out by then.”“I’m a-going to pull a hundred,” grumbled Bob, “and then give it up. Now then!”The sculls splashed the water almost together, and for a few strokes the boys pulled vigorously and well; but it was like the last bright flashes of an expiring candle, and long before the half-hundred was reached the dippings of the blades grew slower and slower. Then they became irregular, while, to add to the horror of the position, the man in pursuit seemed to have been keeping a reserve of strength ready for such an emergency, and he now came on rapidly.Bob would have proposed putting ashore once more, but, in avoiding the various crafts, they had now contrived to be about midstream, and in his horror and dread of the coming enemy all thought of scheming seemed to have been driven out of his head.He uttered a despairing yell, and began to tug at his oar once more; Dexter followed his example, and the distance again increased.But only for a few minutes, then they seemed to be growing weaker, their arms became like lead; their eyes grew dim, and the end was very near.“Ah, I’ve got yer at last, have I?” shouted the man, who was not forty yards away now.“Not yet,” muttered Dexter. “Pull, Bob, pull!”Bob responded by going through the motion of rowing, but his scull did not dip into the water, and, meeting with no resistance, he went backwards off the seat, with his heels in the air.Dexter jumped up, seized his companion’s scull, and, weary as he was, with all the stubborn English pluck which never knows when it is beaten, he reseated himself, shipped his scull, and bent forward to try, inexperienced as he was, to make another effort for escape.As he seated himself, breathless and panting hard, he gave one glance at his enemy, then another over his shoulder at a boat on ahead, which it would be his duty to avoid, for it seemed to be going right across his track.Then he began to row, putting the little strength he had left into his last strokes.“Ah, it’s no good,” cried the man triumphantly. “I’ve got yer at last.”“How—ow!” yelled Bob, with a cry like a Newfoundland dog shut out on a cold night.“Drop that there rowing, or I’ll—”Dexter heard no more. He was pulling frantically, but making hardly any way. Then he heard voices ahead, glanced round with his sculls raised, and found that he was running right toward the craft just ahead.Another moment and there was a bump.The man had driven his little tub right into the stern of the gig, and as he laid hold he snarled out—“I knew I should ketch yer.”“How—ow!” yelled Bob again, from where he lay on his back in the bottom of the boat, his legs still over the seat.Bump!There was another shock, and Dexter started up, saw that he had run into the boat ahead, and that one of the two sailors, who had been rowing, had taken hold of the bows.He saw that at a glance, but he also saw something else which seemed to freeze the blood in his breast.For there, seated in the stern of that large boat into which he had run, were the Doctor, Sir James Danby, old Dan’l, and Peter.

“Come and lay hold o’ one scull,” said Bob, whose eyes seemed to be fixed as he stared at the back of their enemy. “Oh, do be quick!”

Dexter slipped into his place, took the scull, and began to row.

“Getting closer, ain’t he?” whispered Bob hoarsely. “Yes. I’m afraid so.”

“Pull, pull!”

Dexter needed no telling, and he tugged away at the oar as the boat glided a little more swiftly on.

“Ain’t leaving him behind, are we!” growled Bob, whose face now grew convulsed with horror. “No; I’m afraid he’s coming nearer.”

“Oh dear, oh dear!” groaned Bob. “He’ll half-kill me, and it’s all your fault. Let’s stop rowing and give him the boat.”

“That we won’t,” cried Dexter, setting his teeth. “I’ll row till I die first.”

“But it’ll only make him more savage,” growled Bob. “I wish I was safe at home.”

“You’re not half-pulling, Bob.”

“It’s of no use, matey. He’s sure to ketch us, and the furder we rows, the more wild he’ll be.”

“I don’t care,” cried Dexter; “he shan’t have it if I can help it. Row!”

In his most cowardly moments Bob was obedience itself, and breaking out into a low sobbing whimper, as if it were a song to encourage him in his task, he rowed on with all his might, while only too plainly it could be seen that the man was gaining steadily upon them in spite of the clumsiness of his boat; and consequently it was only a question of time before the boys were overtaken, for the muscles of the man were certain to endure longer than those of Dexter, untrained as they were to such work.

“He’s closer, ain’t he?” whined Bob.

“Yes, ever so much,” replied Dexter, between his set teeth.

“Well, jest you recollect it was you hit him that whack on the head. I didn’t do nothing.”

“Yes, you did,” said Dexter sharply. “You said,yah! at him, and called him names.”

“No, I didn’t. Don’t you be a sneak,” whined Bob. “You were ever so much worse than me. Is he coming closer?”

“Yes.”

It was a fact, closer and closer, and the tide ran so strongly now that the boys had hard work to make much progress. They did progress, though, all the same, for their boat was narrow and sharp. Still the current was dead against them, and their want of movement added to their despair.

Bad as it was for them, however, it was worse for the man in his heavy little broadly-bowed tub; and so it happened that just as Bob began to row more slowly, and burst into a fit of howling, which made Dexter feel as if he would like to turn and hit him over the head with his oar—a contact of scull against skull—the man suddenly ceased rowing, turned in his seat, and sat shaking his fist at them, showing his teeth in his impotent rage.

“There!” cried Bob, who was transformed in an instant. “We’ve bet him. He can’t pull no further. Yah! yah!”

Bob changed back to his state of cowardly prostration, and began to tug once more at his oar, for his derisive yell galvanised the man once more into action, and the pursuit was continued.

“Oh!” howled Bob. “Who’d ha’ thought o’ that?”

“Who’s stupid now?” panted Dexter, as he too rowed with all his might.

Bob did nothing but groan, and the pursuit and flight were once more continued, each moment with despair getting a stronger hold of the fugitives. The oar felt hot in Dexter’s blistered hands, a peculiar sensation of heaving was in his chest, his eyes began to swim, and he was just about to cease rowing, when he could hardly believe his starting eyes—their enemy had once more given up the pursuit, and was sitting wrenched round, and staring after them.

“Don’t, pray, don’t shout at him this time, Bob,” panted Dexter.

“I won’t if you’re afraid,” said the young scoundrel.

“Keep on rowing, or he’ll come after us again.”

Bob’s scull was dipped again directly, and the motion of the boat was kept up sufficiently to counteract the drift of the tide, while the man in the little tub was swept rapidly away.

“Let’s get over the other side to those trees,” said Dexter, as he felt that he could row no further, and the boat’s head was directed half-across the stream so as to reach the clump of willows indicated, where, after a much heavier pull than they had anticipated, the gig was made fast, and Bob’s first act after laying down his scull was to lean over the side and drink heartily of the muddy water.

Dexter would gladly have lain down to rest, but there was a watch to keep up.

Bob mocked at the idea.

“Yah!” he said; “he won’t some any more. I say, are you nearly dry?”

“Nearly,” said Dexter, “all but my boots and socks.”

These he took off, and put in the sun to dry, as he sat there with his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands, watching till Bob was asleep.

He was faint and hungry, and the idea was strong in his mind that the man would steal down upon them when he was not expected. This thought completely drove away all drowsiness, though it did not affect his companion in the slightest degree.

The next thing ought to have been to get some food, but there was no likely place within view, and though several boats and a barge or two passed, the fear of being questioned kept the watcher from hailing them, and asking where he could get some bread and milk.

The hours glided slowly by, but there was no sign of the shabby little boat. The tide ran up swiftly, and the gig swung easily from its chain; and as Dexter sat there, hungry and lonely, he could not keep his thoughts at times from the doctor’s comfortable house.

Towards evening the socks and boots were so dry that Dexter replaced them, looking down the while rather ruefully at his mud-stained trousers. He rubbed them and scratched the patches with his nails; but the result was not satisfactory, and once more he sat gazing up the river in expectation of seeing their enemy come round the bend.

It was getting late, and the tide had turned, as Dexter knew at once by the way in which the boat had swung round with its bows now pointing up-stream. And now seemed the time when the man might appear once more in pursuit.

The thought impressed him so that he leaned over and shook Bob, who sat up and stared wonderingly about.

“Hallo!” he said. “What time is it!”

“I don’t know, but the tide has turned, and that man may come after us again.”

“Nay, he won’t come any more,” said Bob confidently. “Let’s go and get something to eat.”

It was a welcome proposal, and the boat being unmoored, Dexter took one of the sculls, and as they rowed slowly down with the tide he kept his eyes busy watching for the coming danger, but it did not appear.

Bob went ashore at a place that looked like a ferry, where there was a little public-house, and this time returned with a small loaf, a piece of boiled bacon, and a bottle of cider.

“I’d ha’ brought the bacon raw, and we’d ha’ cooked it over a fire,” said Bob, “only there don’t seem to be no wood down here, and there’s such lots of houses.”

Dexter did not feel troubled about the way in which the bacon was prepared, but sat in the boat, as it drifted with the tide, and ate his portion ravenously, but did not find the sour cider to his taste.

By the time they had finished, it was growing dark, and lights were twinkling here and there on either bank, showing that they were now in a well-populated part.

“Where are we to sleep to-night, Bob?” said Dexter at last.

“Dunno yet. Can’t see no places.”

“We must be near the sea now, mustn’t we?”

“Yes, pretty handy to it,” said Bob, with the confidence of one in utter ignorance. “We shall be there to-morrow, and then we can catch heaps of cod-fish, and soles, and mack’rel, and find oysters. It’ll be all right then.”

This was encouraging, but somehow Dexter did not feel so much confidence in his companion as of old.

But Bob’s rest, and the disappearance of danger had brought him back to his former state, and he was constantly making references to the departed enemy.

“I should just liked to have ketched him touching me!” he said. “I’d ha’ give his shins such a kicking as would soon have made him cry ‘Leave off.’”

Dexter sat and stared through the gloom at the young Gascon.

“I’d ha’ soon let him know what he’d get if he touched me.”

“Hi, Bob! look out!”

Bob uttered a cry of dread, and nearly jumped overboard as something still and dark suddenly loomed up above him. Then there was a bump, which nearly finished what the boy had felt disposed to do; and then they were gliding along by the side of a vessel anchored in midstream.

As they swept past the stern the boat bumped again against something black and round, which proved to be a floating tub. With this they seemed to have become entangled, for there was a rasping grating noise, then the boat’s chain began to run rapidly over the bows, the boat swung round, and their further progress was checked. A piece of the chain with the hook had been left hanging over, and when they had touched the tub buoy the hook had caught, and they were anchored some little distance astern the large vessel.

“Here’s a game!” cried Bob, as soon as he had recovered from his astonishment. “Well, we can’t go on in the dark. Let’s stop here.”

“But we’ve got to find a place to sleep, Bob,” protested Dexter.

“Yah! you’re always wanting to go to sleep. There ain’t no place to sleep ashore, so let’s sleep in the boat. Why, we shall always have to bunk down there when we get out to sea.”

“But suppose the boat should sink?”

“Yah! suppose it did. We’d swim ashore. Only mind you don’t get outer bed in the night and walk into the water. I don’t want to go to sleep at all.”

Dexter did not feel drowsy, but again he could not help thinking of his room with the white hangings, and of how pleasant it would be to take off his clothes once more and lie between sheets.

“Some chaps is always thinking about going to bed,” said Bob jauntily. “Long as I gets a nap now and then, that’s all I want.”

Dexter did not know it, but Bob Dimsted was a thorough-paced second-hand boy. Every expression of this kind was an old one, such as he had heard from his father, or the rough men who consorted with him, from the bullying down to the most playful remark. But, as aforesaid, Dexter did not realise all this. He had only got as far as the fact that Bob was not half so nice as he used to be, and that, in spite of his boasting and bullying, he was not very brave when put to the test.

“There, I shan’t go to sleep yet. You can have one o’ them cushins forward,” said Bob at last; and, suffering now from a sudden feeling of weariness, Dexter took one of the cushions forward, placed it so as to be as comfortable as possible, realising as he did this that, in spite of his words, Bob was doing the same with two cushions to his one, and before he had been lying there long, listening to the rippling of the water, and gazing up at the stars, a hoarse, wheezing noise proclaimed the fact that Bob Dimsted was once more fast asleep.

Dexter was weary now in the extreme, the exertion and excitement he had gone through had produced, in connection with the irregular feeding, a state of fatigue that under other circumstances might have resulted in his dropping off at once, but now he could only lie and listen, and keep his eyes dilated and wide open, staring for some danger which seemed as if it must be near.

He did not know what the danger might be, unless it was that man with the boat, but something seemed to threaten, and he could not sleep.

Then, too, he felt obliged to think about Bob and about their journey. Where they were going, what sort of a place it would be, and whether they would be any more happy when they got to some beautiful island; for he was fain to confess that matters were very miserable now, and that the more he saw of Bob Dimsted the less he liked him.

He was in the midst of one of his thoughtful moods, with Bob for his theme, and asking himself what he should do if Bob did begin to thrash him first time they were on shore; and he had just come to the conclusion that he would not let Bob thrash him if he could help it, when Bob suddenly leaped forward and hit him a round-handed sort of blow, right in the back of the neck.

This so enraged him that he forgot directly all about companionship, and the sort of tacit brotherly compact into which they had entered, and springing at his assailant he struck him a blow in the chest, which sent him staggering back.

For a moment or two Bob seemed to be beaten; then he came at him furiously, the turf was trampled and slippery, and they both went down; then they got up again, and fought away, giving and taking blows, every one of which sounded with a loud slap.

That fight seemed as if it would never end, and Dexter felt as if he were getting the worst of it, consequent upon an inherent dislike to inflict pain, and his having passed over again and again opportunities for administering effective blows. At last they joined in what became little more than a wrestle, and Dexter felt the ground giving way beneath his feet; the back of his neck hurt him terribly, and he was about to give in, when the boys began to cheer, Mr Sibery ran up with the cane, and the doctor came looking stern and frowning, while he saw Helen Grayson put her hand to her eyes and turn away.

“It’s all Bob Dimsted’s fault,” he cried passionately; and he woke up with the words upon his lips, and a crick in the back of his neck, consequent upon the awkward cramped-up position in which he had lain.

It was broad daylight, and for a few moments he was too much confused to understand where he was; but as he realised it all, and cast a quick look round in search of danger, he saw that they were hooked on to the slimy buoy, that twenty yards further there was the hull of an old schooner, against which they had been nearly capsized the previous evening, and four or five hundred yards beyond that, slowly paddling along, was their enemy, looking over his shoulder as if he had seen them, and meant to make sure of them now.

Dexter hesitated between wakening Bob and setting the boat adrift.

He decided on doing the latter, and hauling on the chain, he drew the boat right up to the buoy, followed the chain with his hands till he could touch the hook, and after some difficulty, his efforts reminding him of the night when he unfastened the chain in the boat-house—he dragged the hook from where it clung to a great rusty link, and all the time his eyes were as much fixed upon the man in the boat as upon the task he had in hand.

Clear at last, and drifting away again. That was something towards safety, and he now stepped over the thwarts and shook Bob.

Bob was too comfortable to open his eyes, and no matter what his companion did he could get no reply till he bent lower, and, inspired by the coming danger, shouted in his ear—

“I’ve got yer at last.”

Bob sprang up as if electrified, saw who spoke, and was about to burst into a torrent of angry abuse, when he followed the direction of Dexter’s pointing hand, caught the approaching danger, and seized an oar.

It was none too soon, for as Dexter seized the other, the man evidently realised that his prey was about to make another effort to escape, and, bending to his work, he sent the little tub-like boat surging through the water.

“Pull, Bob!” said Dexter excitedly, an unnecessary order, for Bob had set his teeth, and, with his face working, was tugging so hard that it needed all Dexter’s efforts to keep the boat from being pulled into the right-hand shore.

The chase had begun in full earnest, and for the next hour, with very little alteration in their positions, it kept on. Then the pace began to tell on the boys. They had for some time been growing slower in their strokes, and they were not pulled so well home. Bob engaged every now and then in a dismal, despairing howl, usually just at the moment when Dexter thrust his oar too deeply in the water, and had hard work to get it out.

But their natural exhaustion was not of such grave consequence as might have been imagined, for their pursuer was growing weary too, and his efforts were greatly wanting in the spirit he displayed at first. On the other hand, though the man came on slowly, he rowed with a steady, stubborn determination, which looked likely to last all the morning, and boded ill for those of whom he was in chase.

Bob’s face was a study, but Dexter’s back was toward him, and he could not study it. The enemy was about two hundred yards behind, and whenever he seemed to flag a little Bob’s face brightened; but so sure as the man glanced over his shoulder, and began to pull harder, the aspect of misery, dread, and pitiable helplessness Bob displayed was ludicrous; and at such times he glanced to right and left to see which was the nearest way to the shore.

As Bob rowed he softly pushed off his boots. Soon after he made three or four hard tugs at his oar, and then, by a quick movement, drew one arm out of his jacket. Then rowing with one hand he shook himself quite clear of the garment, so as to be unencumbered when he began to swim, for that was his intention as soon as the man overtook them, and his peril became great.

“He wants most of all to get the boat,” he thought to himself; and soon after he opened his heart to Dexter.

“Lookye here!” he said, “he wants to get the boat; and if he can get that he won’t come after us. Let’s row pretty close to the bank, and get ashore and run.”

“What! and leave the boat?” cried Dexter. “That I’m sure I will not.”

Dexter pulled all the harder after hearing this proposal, and Bob uttered a moan.

All that morning the flight and pursuit were kept up, till on both sides it became merely a light dipping of the oars, so as to keep the boats’ heads straight, the tide carrying them along.

It was plain enough now that they were getting toward the mouth of the river, which was now quite broad. Houses were growing plentiful, barges lay at wharves or moored with other boats in the stream, and care had to be exercised to avoid coming in collision with the many obstacles in their way.

But they kept on; and though at Bob’s piteous suggestion they wound in and out among the many crafts in the hope of shaking off their pursuer, it was all in vain, for he kept doggedly on after them, with the matter-of-fact determination of a weasel after a rabbit, sure of its scent, and certain that before long the object of the pursuit would resign itself to its fate.

On still in a dreary mechanical way. Dexter could hardly move his arms, and Bob was, in spite of his long experience, almost as helpless.

“It’s of no use,” the latter said at last; and he ceased rowing.

“No, no, Bob; don’t give in!” cried Dexter excitedly. “We shall soon tire him out now. Row! Row!”

“Can’t,” said Bob drearily. “I haven’t another pull in me.”

“Then give me the other scull, and let me try.”

“Yah! you couldn’t pull both,” cried Bob. “There, I’m going to try a hundred more strokes, and then I shall swim ashore. I ain’t going to let him catch me.”

“Pull, then, a hundred more,” cried Dexter excitedly. “Oh, do make it two, Bob! He’ll be tired out by then.”

“I’m a-going to pull a hundred,” grumbled Bob, “and then give it up. Now then!”

The sculls splashed the water almost together, and for a few strokes the boys pulled vigorously and well; but it was like the last bright flashes of an expiring candle, and long before the half-hundred was reached the dippings of the blades grew slower and slower. Then they became irregular, while, to add to the horror of the position, the man in pursuit seemed to have been keeping a reserve of strength ready for such an emergency, and he now came on rapidly.

Bob would have proposed putting ashore once more, but, in avoiding the various crafts, they had now contrived to be about midstream, and in his horror and dread of the coming enemy all thought of scheming seemed to have been driven out of his head.

He uttered a despairing yell, and began to tug at his oar once more; Dexter followed his example, and the distance again increased.

But only for a few minutes, then they seemed to be growing weaker, their arms became like lead; their eyes grew dim, and the end was very near.

“Ah, I’ve got yer at last, have I?” shouted the man, who was not forty yards away now.

“Not yet,” muttered Dexter. “Pull, Bob, pull!”

Bob responded by going through the motion of rowing, but his scull did not dip into the water, and, meeting with no resistance, he went backwards off the seat, with his heels in the air.

Dexter jumped up, seized his companion’s scull, and, weary as he was, with all the stubborn English pluck which never knows when it is beaten, he reseated himself, shipped his scull, and bent forward to try, inexperienced as he was, to make another effort for escape.

As he seated himself, breathless and panting hard, he gave one glance at his enemy, then another over his shoulder at a boat on ahead, which it would be his duty to avoid, for it seemed to be going right across his track.

Then he began to row, putting the little strength he had left into his last strokes.

“Ah, it’s no good,” cried the man triumphantly. “I’ve got yer at last.”

“How—ow!” yelled Bob, with a cry like a Newfoundland dog shut out on a cold night.

“Drop that there rowing, or I’ll—”

Dexter heard no more. He was pulling frantically, but making hardly any way. Then he heard voices ahead, glanced round with his sculls raised, and found that he was running right toward the craft just ahead.

Another moment and there was a bump.

The man had driven his little tub right into the stern of the gig, and as he laid hold he snarled out—

“I knew I should ketch yer.”

“How—ow!” yelled Bob again, from where he lay on his back in the bottom of the boat, his legs still over the seat.

Bump!

There was another shock, and Dexter started up, saw that he had run into the boat ahead, and that one of the two sailors, who had been rowing, had taken hold of the bows.

He saw that at a glance, but he also saw something else which seemed to freeze the blood in his breast.

For there, seated in the stern of that large boat into which he had run, were the Doctor, Sir James Danby, old Dan’l, and Peter.

Chapter Thirty Nine.Brought to Book.Dexter did not pause a moment. It did not occur to him that he was utterly exhausted, and could hardly move his arms. All he realised was the fact that on the one side was the man whom he had half-killed with the boat-hook, just about to stretch out his hand to seize him, on the other, those whom he dreaded far more, and with one quick movement he stepped on to the thwart of the gig, joined his hands, dived in, and disappeared from sight, in the muddy water.For a few moments there was the silence of utter astonishment, and then the man who had pursued the boys down the river began to take advantage of the general excitement by keeping hold of the side of the gig and beginning to draw it away; but Bob set up such a howl of dismay that it drew Peter’s attention, and he too seized the boat from the other end, caught out the chain, and hooked it on to a ring-bolt of the big boat in which he sat.“You drop that there, will yer!” cried the man. “It’s my boat.”“How—ow!” cried Bob, in the most canine of yelps; and at the same moment the gig was literally jerked from the man’s hold, for the two sailors had given a tremendous tug at their oars to force the boat in the direction that Dexter was likely to take after his rise, and the next minute a dozen yards were between the tub and the gig.“For heaven’s sake, mind! stop!” cried the doctor excitedly. “Don’t row, men, or you may strike him down.”The men ceased rowing, and every eye began to search the surface of the water, but no sign of Dexter could be seen.“He could not sink like that,” cried Sir James. “He must rise somewhere.”But must or no, Dexter did not rise, and the men began to paddle softly down-stream, while the doctor stood up in the boat gazing wildly round.“It was all my doing,” he said to himself. “Poor boy! poor boy!”A feeling of horror that was unbearable seemed to be creeping over the occupants of the great boat. Even Dan’l, who looked upon Dexter as his mortal enemy, and who had suggested, in the hope of seeing him sent to prison, that the surest way of capturing the boys was to go down to the mouth of the river—even Dan’l felt the chill of horror as he mentally said—“’Tain’t true. Them as is born to be hanged is sometimes drowned.”But just then there was a tremendous splash, and the big boat rocked to and fro, the captive gig danced, and Bob uttered another of his canine yelps, for Peter had suddenly stepped on to the gunwale, dived in after something he had seen touch the surface of the water twenty yards lower down, where it had been rolled over and over by the rapid tide, and a minute later, as he swam vigorously, he shouted—“I’ve got him!”And he was seen holding the boy’s head above the water, as he turned to try and stem the current, and swim back to the boat.The task was not long, for the two sailors sent her down with a few vigorous sweeps of their oars, and Dexter and his rescuer were dragged over the side, as the man with the tub slowly backed away.No time was lost in reaching the shore, and the insensible boy was carried up to the principal hotel in the port, where quite an hour elapsed before the surgeon whose services were sought was able to pause from his arduous task, and announce that his patient would live.For it was a very narrow escape, and the surgeon said, as he shook hands with Dr Grayson—“Some men would have given it up in despair, sir. But there he is, safe and sound, and, I dare say, boy-like, it will not be very long before he gets into some mischief again.”Sir James Danby coughed, and Doctor Grayson frowned as he met his friend’s peculiar look. But nothing was said then till the surgeon had been up to see his patient once more, after which he returned, reported that Dexter had sunk into a sound slumber, and then took his leave.“I suppose we shall not go back to Coleby to-night?” said Sir James.“I shall not,” said the doctor; “but, my dear Danby, pray don’t let me keep you.”“Oh! you will not keep me,” said Sir James quietly. “I’ve got to make arrangements about my boat being taken up the river.”“Why not let my men row it back!” said the doctor.“Because I did not like to impose on your kindness.”“Then they may take it?”“I shall only be too grateful,” said Sir James.Nothing more was said till they had ordered and sat down to a snug dinner in the hotel, when Sir James opened the ball.“Now, Grayson,” he said, “I happen to be a magistrate.”“Yes, of course,” said the doctor uneasily.“Well, then, I want to have a few words with you about those two boys.”The doctor nodded.“Your groom is with yourprotégé, and your old gardener has that other young scoundrel in charge.”“In charge?” said the doctor.“Yes; you may call it so. I told him not to lose sight of the young rascal, and I also told your groom to exercise the same supervision over the other.”“But surely, my dear Danby, you do not mean to—”“Deal with them as I would with any other offender? Why not?”The doctor had no answer ready, so Sir James went on—“I valued that boat very highly, and certainly I’ve got it back—with the exception of the stains upon the cushions—very little the worse. But this was a serious theft, almost as bad as horse-stealing, and I shall have to make an example of them.”“But one of them has been terribly punished,” said the doctor eagerly.“Pooh! not half enough, sir. Come, Grayson, of course this has completely cured you of your mad folly!”“My mad folly!” cried the doctor excitedly. “May I ask you what you mean?”“Now, my dear Grayson, pray don’t be angry. I only say, as an old friend and neighbour, surely you must be ready to agree that your wild idea of making a gentleman out of this boy—one of the dregs of our civilisation—is an impossibility?”“Nothing of the sort, sir,” cried the doctor angrily. “I never felt more certain of the correctness of my ideas.”“Tut—tut—tut—tut!” ejaculated Sir James. “Really, Grayson, this is too much.”“Too much, sir? Nothing of the kind. A boyish escapade. Nothing more.”“Well!” said Sir James drily, “when such cases as this are brought before us at the bench, we are in the habit of calling them thefts.”“Theft: pooh! No, no!” cried the doctor stubbornly. “A boyish prank. He would have sent the boat back.”“Would he?” said Sir James drily. “I suppose you think his companion would have done the same?”“I have nothing to do with the other boy,” said the doctor shortly. “It was a most unfortunate thing that Dexter should have made his acquaintance.”“Birds of a feather flock together, my dear Grayson,” said Sir James.“Nothing of the kind, sir. It was my fault,” cried the doctor. “I neglected to let the boy have suitable companions of his own age; and the consequence was that he listened to this young scoundrel, and allowed himself to be led away.”“Do I understand aright, from your defence of the boy, that you mean to forgive him and take him back!”“Certainly!” said the doctor.“Grayson, you amaze me! But if I prove to you that you are utterly wrong, and that the young dog is an arrant thief, what then?”“Then,” said the doctor, “I’m afraid I should have to— No, I wouldn’t. I would try and reform him.”“Well,” said Sir James, “if you choose to be so ultra lenient, Grayson, you must; but I feel that I have a duty to do, and as soon as we have had our wine I propose that we have the prisoners here, and listen to what they have to say.”“Prisoners?”“Yes. What else would you call them?”Before the doctor could stand up afresh in Dexter’s defence a waiter entered the room.“Beg pardon, sir, but your groom says would you be good enough to step upstairs?”“Bless my heart!” cried the doctor. “Is it a relapse?”He hurried up to the room where Dexter had been sleeping, to find that, instead of being in bed, he was fully dressed, and lying on the floor, with Peter the groom holding him down.“Why, what’s the matter!” cried the doctor, as he entered the room hastily, followed by Sir James.“Matter, sir?” said Peter, “matter enough. If I hadn’t held him down like this here I believe he’d ’a’ been out o’ that window.”“Why, Dexter!” cried the doctor.The boy struggled feebly, and then, seeing the futility of his efforts, he lay still and closed his eyes.“Went off fast asleep, sir, as any one would ha’ thought,” said Peter. “And seeing him like that I thought I’d just go down and fetch myself a cup o’ tea; but no sooner was I out o’ the room than he must have slipped out and dressed hisself—shamming, you know—and if I hadn’t come back in the nick o’ time he’d have been gone.”The doctor frowned, and Sir James looked satisfied, as he gave him a nod.“Going to run away, eh!”“Yes, Sir James,” said the groom; “and it was as much as I could do to hold him.”“Get up, Peter,” said the doctor.The groom rose, and Dexter leapt up like a bit of spring, and darted toward the door.But Sir James was close to it, and catching the boy by the arm he held him.“Take hold, of him, my man,” he said; “and don’t let him go.”Peter obeyed, getting a tight grip of Dexter’s wrist.“Now, you give in,” he whispered. “It’s no good, for I shan’t let go.”“Bring him down,” said Sir James sternly.Peter shook his head warningly at Dexter, and then, as Sir James and the doctor went down to their room, Peter followed with his prisoner, who looked over the balustrade as if measuring the distance and his chance if he made a jump.“Now,” said Sir James, as the boy was led into the room; “stand there, sir, and I warn you that if you attempt to run away I shall have in the police, and be more stern. You, my man, go and tell the gardener to bring up the other boy.”Peter left the room after giving Dexter a glance, and the doctor began to walk up and down angrily. He wanted to take the business into his own hands, but Sir James was a magistrate, and it seemed as if he had a right to take the lead.There was a painful silence, during which Dexter stood hanging his head, and feeling as if he wished he had been drowned, instead of being brought round to undergo such a painful ordeal as this.Ten minutes must have elapsed before a scuffling was heard upon the stairs, and Bob Dimsted’s voice whimpering—“You let me alone, will yer? I never done nothing to you. Pair o’ great cowards, y’are. Don’t knock me about, or it’ll be the worse for yer. Hit one o’ your own size. I never said nothing to you.”This was continued and repeated right into the room, Dan’l looking very severe and earnest, and holding on by the boy’s collar, half-dragging him, while Peter pushed behind, and then closed the door, and stood before it like a sentry.“You have not been striking the boy, I hope!” said the doctor.“Strike him, sir? no, not I,” said Dan’l; “but I should like to. Been a-biting and kicking like a neel to get away.”Sir James had never seen an eel kick, but he accepted the simile, and turning to Bob, who was whimpering and howling—“knocking me about”—“never said nothing to him”—“if my father was here,” etc.“Silence!” roared Sir James, in his severest tones; and Bob gave quite a start and stared.“Now, sir,” said Sir James. “Here, both of you; stand together, and mind this: it will be better for both of you if you are frank and straightforward.”“I want to go home,” whimpered Bob. “Y’ain’t no business to stop me here.”“Silence!” roared Sir James; and Bob jumped.Dexter did not move, but stood with his eyes fixed to the floor.“Now!” said Sir James, gazing fiercely at Bob; “you know, I suppose, why you are here.”“No! I don’t,” whimpered Bob. “And y’ain’t no business to stop me. I want to go home.”“Silence, sir!” roared Sir James again. “You do not know? Well, then, I will tell you. You are before me, sir, charged with stealing a boat.”“Oh!” ejaculated Bob, in a tone of wondering innocence.“And I perhaps ought to explain,” said Sir James, looking hard at Dr Grayson, and speaking apologetically, “that in an ordinary way, as the boat was my property, I should feel called upon to leave the bench; but as this is only a preliminary examination, I shall carry it on myself. Now, sir,” he continued, fixing Bob’s shifty eyes, “what have you to say, sir, for stealing my boat?”“Stealing your boat!” cried Bob volubly; “me steal your boat, sir? I wouldn’t do such a thing.”“Why, you lying young dog!”“No, sir, I ain’t, sir,” protested Bob, as Dexter slowly raised his head and gazed at him. “It wasn’t me, sir. It was him, sir. That boy, sir. I begged him not to, sir; but he would do it.”“Oh, it was Dexter Grayson, was it?” said Sir James, glancing at the doctor, who was gnawing his lip and beating the carpet with his toe.“Yes, sir; it was him, sir. I was t’other side o’ the river one day, sir,” rattled off Bob, “and he shouts to me, sir, ‘Hi!’ he says, just like that, sir, and when I went to him, sir, he says, ‘Let’s steal the old cock’s boat and go down the river for a game.’”“Well?” said Sir James.“Well, sir, I wouldn’t, sir,” continued Bob glibly. “I said it would be like stealing the boat; and I wouldn’t do that.”“Oh!” said Sir James.“Is this true, Dexter!” said the doctor sternly.“No, sir. He wanted me to take the boat.”“Oh, my!” cried Bob. “Hark at that now! Why, I wouldn’t ha’ done such a thing.”“No, you look a nice innocent boy,” said Sir James.“Yes, sir; and he was allus at me about that boat, and said he wanted to go to foreign abroad, he did, and the best way, he said, was to steal that there boat and go.”“Oh,” said Sir James. “And what more have you to say, sir?”“It isn’t true, sir,” said Dexter, making an effort to speak, and he gazed angrily at his companion. “Bob here wanted me to go with him, and he persuaded me to take the boat.”“Oh! only hark at him!” cried Bob, looking from one to the other.“And I thought it would be like stealing the boat to take it like that.”“Well, rather like it,” said Sir James sarcastically.“And so I sent that letter and that money to pay for it, sir, and I meant to send the rest if it wasn’t quite enough.”“Ah!” ejaculated the doctor eagerly.“What letter? What money?” said Sir James.“That money I sent by Bob Dimsted, sir, to put in your letter-box.”“I never received any money,” cried Sir James. “You sent some money!”“Yes, sir; before we took the boat, sir.”“Ah!” ejaculated the doctor again.“And you sent it by this boy?”“Yes, sir.”“Then where is the money?” cried Sir James, turning upon Bob.“I dunno, sir. I never had no money.”“You did, Bob, in a letter I gave you,” cried Dexter excitedly.“Oh!” ejaculated Bob, with an astonished look. “Well, if ever!”“This is getting interesting,” said Sir James. “Now, sir, where’s that money?”“He never give me none, sir,” cried Bob indignantly. “I never see no letter.”“You did. The one I threw across the river to you!” said Dexter.“Oh, what a cracker!” cried Bob. “I never had no letter, gen’lemen, and I never see no money. Why don’t you tell the truth, and the kind gentlemen won’t be so hard on you?”“I am telling the truth,” cried Dexter, “It was you asked me to take the boat.”“Only hark at him!” cried Bob. “Why yer’d better say yer didn’t take all yer clothes off and swim acrost and get it.”“I did,” said Dexter; “but you made me. You said you’d go.”“Oh, you can tell ’em!” cried Bob.“And I did give you the money to take.”“Oh, well, I’ve done,” said Bob. “I never did hear a chap tell lies like you can!”“I think that will do,” said Sir James, with a side glance at the doctor, who sat with his brows knit, listening. “Now, you will both go back to the room where you are to sleep, and I warn you that if you attempt to escape, so surely will you be taken by the police, and then this matter will assume a far more serious aspect. You, my men, will have charge of these two boys till the morning. They are not to speak toeach other, and I look to you to take them safely back to Coleby by the early train. That will do.”Dexter darted one glance at the doctor, but his face was averted.“Please, sir,” he began.“Silence!” cried Sir James. “I think Dr Grayson understands your character now, and I must say I never heard a more cowardly attempt to fasten a fault upon another. No: not a word. Go!”Bob Dimsted was already outside with Dan’l’s knuckles in the back of his neck.Peter was more gentle with his prisoner as he led him away.“You’ve been and done it now, young fellow,” he said. “I would ha’ told the truth.”Dexter turned to him with bursting heart, but he could not speak, and as soon as he was in his bedroom he threw himself before a chair, and buried his face in his hands, so as to try and shut out the reproachful face of Helen, which he seemed to see.“I wish I had not been saved,” he cried at last passionately, and then he glanced at the window, and listened, while downstairs Sir James was saying quietly—“There, Grayson, I think you understand the boy’s character now.”“No,” said the doctor shortly. “I don’t think I do.”“What!”“And I’d give a hundred pounds,” said the doctor, “to know the truth.”“Really,” said Sir James, laughing. “You are the most obstinate man I ever knew.”“Yes,” said the doctor. “I suppose I am.”

Dexter did not pause a moment. It did not occur to him that he was utterly exhausted, and could hardly move his arms. All he realised was the fact that on the one side was the man whom he had half-killed with the boat-hook, just about to stretch out his hand to seize him, on the other, those whom he dreaded far more, and with one quick movement he stepped on to the thwart of the gig, joined his hands, dived in, and disappeared from sight, in the muddy water.

For a few moments there was the silence of utter astonishment, and then the man who had pursued the boys down the river began to take advantage of the general excitement by keeping hold of the side of the gig and beginning to draw it away; but Bob set up such a howl of dismay that it drew Peter’s attention, and he too seized the boat from the other end, caught out the chain, and hooked it on to a ring-bolt of the big boat in which he sat.

“You drop that there, will yer!” cried the man. “It’s my boat.”

“How—ow!” cried Bob, in the most canine of yelps; and at the same moment the gig was literally jerked from the man’s hold, for the two sailors had given a tremendous tug at their oars to force the boat in the direction that Dexter was likely to take after his rise, and the next minute a dozen yards were between the tub and the gig.

“For heaven’s sake, mind! stop!” cried the doctor excitedly. “Don’t row, men, or you may strike him down.”

The men ceased rowing, and every eye began to search the surface of the water, but no sign of Dexter could be seen.

“He could not sink like that,” cried Sir James. “He must rise somewhere.”

But must or no, Dexter did not rise, and the men began to paddle softly down-stream, while the doctor stood up in the boat gazing wildly round.

“It was all my doing,” he said to himself. “Poor boy! poor boy!”

A feeling of horror that was unbearable seemed to be creeping over the occupants of the great boat. Even Dan’l, who looked upon Dexter as his mortal enemy, and who had suggested, in the hope of seeing him sent to prison, that the surest way of capturing the boys was to go down to the mouth of the river—even Dan’l felt the chill of horror as he mentally said—

“’Tain’t true. Them as is born to be hanged is sometimes drowned.”

But just then there was a tremendous splash, and the big boat rocked to and fro, the captive gig danced, and Bob uttered another of his canine yelps, for Peter had suddenly stepped on to the gunwale, dived in after something he had seen touch the surface of the water twenty yards lower down, where it had been rolled over and over by the rapid tide, and a minute later, as he swam vigorously, he shouted—“I’ve got him!”

And he was seen holding the boy’s head above the water, as he turned to try and stem the current, and swim back to the boat.

The task was not long, for the two sailors sent her down with a few vigorous sweeps of their oars, and Dexter and his rescuer were dragged over the side, as the man with the tub slowly backed away.

No time was lost in reaching the shore, and the insensible boy was carried up to the principal hotel in the port, where quite an hour elapsed before the surgeon whose services were sought was able to pause from his arduous task, and announce that his patient would live.

For it was a very narrow escape, and the surgeon said, as he shook hands with Dr Grayson—

“Some men would have given it up in despair, sir. But there he is, safe and sound, and, I dare say, boy-like, it will not be very long before he gets into some mischief again.”

Sir James Danby coughed, and Doctor Grayson frowned as he met his friend’s peculiar look. But nothing was said then till the surgeon had been up to see his patient once more, after which he returned, reported that Dexter had sunk into a sound slumber, and then took his leave.

“I suppose we shall not go back to Coleby to-night?” said Sir James.

“I shall not,” said the doctor; “but, my dear Danby, pray don’t let me keep you.”

“Oh! you will not keep me,” said Sir James quietly. “I’ve got to make arrangements about my boat being taken up the river.”

“Why not let my men row it back!” said the doctor.

“Because I did not like to impose on your kindness.”

“Then they may take it?”

“I shall only be too grateful,” said Sir James.

Nothing more was said till they had ordered and sat down to a snug dinner in the hotel, when Sir James opened the ball.

“Now, Grayson,” he said, “I happen to be a magistrate.”

“Yes, of course,” said the doctor uneasily.

“Well, then, I want to have a few words with you about those two boys.”

The doctor nodded.

“Your groom is with yourprotégé, and your old gardener has that other young scoundrel in charge.”

“In charge?” said the doctor.

“Yes; you may call it so. I told him not to lose sight of the young rascal, and I also told your groom to exercise the same supervision over the other.”

“But surely, my dear Danby, you do not mean to—”

“Deal with them as I would with any other offender? Why not?”

The doctor had no answer ready, so Sir James went on—

“I valued that boat very highly, and certainly I’ve got it back—with the exception of the stains upon the cushions—very little the worse. But this was a serious theft, almost as bad as horse-stealing, and I shall have to make an example of them.”

“But one of them has been terribly punished,” said the doctor eagerly.

“Pooh! not half enough, sir. Come, Grayson, of course this has completely cured you of your mad folly!”

“My mad folly!” cried the doctor excitedly. “May I ask you what you mean?”

“Now, my dear Grayson, pray don’t be angry. I only say, as an old friend and neighbour, surely you must be ready to agree that your wild idea of making a gentleman out of this boy—one of the dregs of our civilisation—is an impossibility?”

“Nothing of the sort, sir,” cried the doctor angrily. “I never felt more certain of the correctness of my ideas.”

“Tut—tut—tut—tut!” ejaculated Sir James. “Really, Grayson, this is too much.”

“Too much, sir? Nothing of the kind. A boyish escapade. Nothing more.”

“Well!” said Sir James drily, “when such cases as this are brought before us at the bench, we are in the habit of calling them thefts.”

“Theft: pooh! No, no!” cried the doctor stubbornly. “A boyish prank. He would have sent the boat back.”

“Would he?” said Sir James drily. “I suppose you think his companion would have done the same?”

“I have nothing to do with the other boy,” said the doctor shortly. “It was a most unfortunate thing that Dexter should have made his acquaintance.”

“Birds of a feather flock together, my dear Grayson,” said Sir James.

“Nothing of the kind, sir. It was my fault,” cried the doctor. “I neglected to let the boy have suitable companions of his own age; and the consequence was that he listened to this young scoundrel, and allowed himself to be led away.”

“Do I understand aright, from your defence of the boy, that you mean to forgive him and take him back!”

“Certainly!” said the doctor.

“Grayson, you amaze me! But if I prove to you that you are utterly wrong, and that the young dog is an arrant thief, what then?”

“Then,” said the doctor, “I’m afraid I should have to— No, I wouldn’t. I would try and reform him.”

“Well,” said Sir James, “if you choose to be so ultra lenient, Grayson, you must; but I feel that I have a duty to do, and as soon as we have had our wine I propose that we have the prisoners here, and listen to what they have to say.”

“Prisoners?”

“Yes. What else would you call them?”

Before the doctor could stand up afresh in Dexter’s defence a waiter entered the room.

“Beg pardon, sir, but your groom says would you be good enough to step upstairs?”

“Bless my heart!” cried the doctor. “Is it a relapse?”

He hurried up to the room where Dexter had been sleeping, to find that, instead of being in bed, he was fully dressed, and lying on the floor, with Peter the groom holding him down.

“Why, what’s the matter!” cried the doctor, as he entered the room hastily, followed by Sir James.

“Matter, sir?” said Peter, “matter enough. If I hadn’t held him down like this here I believe he’d ’a’ been out o’ that window.”

“Why, Dexter!” cried the doctor.

The boy struggled feebly, and then, seeing the futility of his efforts, he lay still and closed his eyes.

“Went off fast asleep, sir, as any one would ha’ thought,” said Peter. “And seeing him like that I thought I’d just go down and fetch myself a cup o’ tea; but no sooner was I out o’ the room than he must have slipped out and dressed hisself—shamming, you know—and if I hadn’t come back in the nick o’ time he’d have been gone.”

The doctor frowned, and Sir James looked satisfied, as he gave him a nod.

“Going to run away, eh!”

“Yes, Sir James,” said the groom; “and it was as much as I could do to hold him.”

“Get up, Peter,” said the doctor.

The groom rose, and Dexter leapt up like a bit of spring, and darted toward the door.

But Sir James was close to it, and catching the boy by the arm he held him.

“Take hold, of him, my man,” he said; “and don’t let him go.”

Peter obeyed, getting a tight grip of Dexter’s wrist.

“Now, you give in,” he whispered. “It’s no good, for I shan’t let go.”

“Bring him down,” said Sir James sternly.

Peter shook his head warningly at Dexter, and then, as Sir James and the doctor went down to their room, Peter followed with his prisoner, who looked over the balustrade as if measuring the distance and his chance if he made a jump.

“Now,” said Sir James, as the boy was led into the room; “stand there, sir, and I warn you that if you attempt to run away I shall have in the police, and be more stern. You, my man, go and tell the gardener to bring up the other boy.”

Peter left the room after giving Dexter a glance, and the doctor began to walk up and down angrily. He wanted to take the business into his own hands, but Sir James was a magistrate, and it seemed as if he had a right to take the lead.

There was a painful silence, during which Dexter stood hanging his head, and feeling as if he wished he had been drowned, instead of being brought round to undergo such a painful ordeal as this.

Ten minutes must have elapsed before a scuffling was heard upon the stairs, and Bob Dimsted’s voice whimpering—

“You let me alone, will yer? I never done nothing to you. Pair o’ great cowards, y’are. Don’t knock me about, or it’ll be the worse for yer. Hit one o’ your own size. I never said nothing to you.”

This was continued and repeated right into the room, Dan’l looking very severe and earnest, and holding on by the boy’s collar, half-dragging him, while Peter pushed behind, and then closed the door, and stood before it like a sentry.

“You have not been striking the boy, I hope!” said the doctor.

“Strike him, sir? no, not I,” said Dan’l; “but I should like to. Been a-biting and kicking like a neel to get away.”

Sir James had never seen an eel kick, but he accepted the simile, and turning to Bob, who was whimpering and howling—“knocking me about”—“never said nothing to him”—“if my father was here,” etc.

“Silence!” roared Sir James, in his severest tones; and Bob gave quite a start and stared.

“Now, sir,” said Sir James. “Here, both of you; stand together, and mind this: it will be better for both of you if you are frank and straightforward.”

“I want to go home,” whimpered Bob. “Y’ain’t no business to stop me here.”

“Silence!” roared Sir James; and Bob jumped.

Dexter did not move, but stood with his eyes fixed to the floor.

“Now!” said Sir James, gazing fiercely at Bob; “you know, I suppose, why you are here.”

“No! I don’t,” whimpered Bob. “And y’ain’t no business to stop me. I want to go home.”

“Silence, sir!” roared Sir James again. “You do not know? Well, then, I will tell you. You are before me, sir, charged with stealing a boat.”

“Oh!” ejaculated Bob, in a tone of wondering innocence.

“And I perhaps ought to explain,” said Sir James, looking hard at Dr Grayson, and speaking apologetically, “that in an ordinary way, as the boat was my property, I should feel called upon to leave the bench; but as this is only a preliminary examination, I shall carry it on myself. Now, sir,” he continued, fixing Bob’s shifty eyes, “what have you to say, sir, for stealing my boat?”

“Stealing your boat!” cried Bob volubly; “me steal your boat, sir? I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Why, you lying young dog!”

“No, sir, I ain’t, sir,” protested Bob, as Dexter slowly raised his head and gazed at him. “It wasn’t me, sir. It was him, sir. That boy, sir. I begged him not to, sir; but he would do it.”

“Oh, it was Dexter Grayson, was it?” said Sir James, glancing at the doctor, who was gnawing his lip and beating the carpet with his toe.

“Yes, sir; it was him, sir. I was t’other side o’ the river one day, sir,” rattled off Bob, “and he shouts to me, sir, ‘Hi!’ he says, just like that, sir, and when I went to him, sir, he says, ‘Let’s steal the old cock’s boat and go down the river for a game.’”

“Well?” said Sir James.

“Well, sir, I wouldn’t, sir,” continued Bob glibly. “I said it would be like stealing the boat; and I wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh!” said Sir James.

“Is this true, Dexter!” said the doctor sternly.

“No, sir. He wanted me to take the boat.”

“Oh, my!” cried Bob. “Hark at that now! Why, I wouldn’t ha’ done such a thing.”

“No, you look a nice innocent boy,” said Sir James.

“Yes, sir; and he was allus at me about that boat, and said he wanted to go to foreign abroad, he did, and the best way, he said, was to steal that there boat and go.”

“Oh,” said Sir James. “And what more have you to say, sir?”

“It isn’t true, sir,” said Dexter, making an effort to speak, and he gazed angrily at his companion. “Bob here wanted me to go with him, and he persuaded me to take the boat.”

“Oh! only hark at him!” cried Bob, looking from one to the other.

“And I thought it would be like stealing the boat to take it like that.”

“Well, rather like it,” said Sir James sarcastically.

“And so I sent that letter and that money to pay for it, sir, and I meant to send the rest if it wasn’t quite enough.”

“Ah!” ejaculated the doctor eagerly.

“What letter? What money?” said Sir James.

“That money I sent by Bob Dimsted, sir, to put in your letter-box.”

“I never received any money,” cried Sir James. “You sent some money!”

“Yes, sir; before we took the boat, sir.”

“Ah!” ejaculated the doctor again.

“And you sent it by this boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then where is the money?” cried Sir James, turning upon Bob.

“I dunno, sir. I never had no money.”

“You did, Bob, in a letter I gave you,” cried Dexter excitedly.

“Oh!” ejaculated Bob, with an astonished look. “Well, if ever!”

“This is getting interesting,” said Sir James. “Now, sir, where’s that money?”

“He never give me none, sir,” cried Bob indignantly. “I never see no letter.”

“You did. The one I threw across the river to you!” said Dexter.

“Oh, what a cracker!” cried Bob. “I never had no letter, gen’lemen, and I never see no money. Why don’t you tell the truth, and the kind gentlemen won’t be so hard on you?”

“I am telling the truth,” cried Dexter, “It was you asked me to take the boat.”

“Only hark at him!” cried Bob. “Why yer’d better say yer didn’t take all yer clothes off and swim acrost and get it.”

“I did,” said Dexter; “but you made me. You said you’d go.”

“Oh, you can tell ’em!” cried Bob.

“And I did give you the money to take.”

“Oh, well, I’ve done,” said Bob. “I never did hear a chap tell lies like you can!”

“I think that will do,” said Sir James, with a side glance at the doctor, who sat with his brows knit, listening. “Now, you will both go back to the room where you are to sleep, and I warn you that if you attempt to escape, so surely will you be taken by the police, and then this matter will assume a far more serious aspect. You, my men, will have charge of these two boys till the morning. They are not to speak toeach other, and I look to you to take them safely back to Coleby by the early train. That will do.”

Dexter darted one glance at the doctor, but his face was averted.

“Please, sir,” he began.

“Silence!” cried Sir James. “I think Dr Grayson understands your character now, and I must say I never heard a more cowardly attempt to fasten a fault upon another. No: not a word. Go!”

Bob Dimsted was already outside with Dan’l’s knuckles in the back of his neck.

Peter was more gentle with his prisoner as he led him away.

“You’ve been and done it now, young fellow,” he said. “I would ha’ told the truth.”

Dexter turned to him with bursting heart, but he could not speak, and as soon as he was in his bedroom he threw himself before a chair, and buried his face in his hands, so as to try and shut out the reproachful face of Helen, which he seemed to see.

“I wish I had not been saved,” he cried at last passionately, and then he glanced at the window, and listened, while downstairs Sir James was saying quietly—

“There, Grayson, I think you understand the boy’s character now.”

“No,” said the doctor shortly. “I don’t think I do.”

“What!”

“And I’d give a hundred pounds,” said the doctor, “to know the truth.”

“Really,” said Sir James, laughing. “You are the most obstinate man I ever knew.”

“Yes,” said the doctor. “I suppose I am.”

Chapter Forty.“Huzza! We’re Homeward Bound!”The first wet day there had been for a month. It seemed as if Mother Nature had been saving up all her rain in a great cistern, and was then letting it out at once.No glorious sapphire seas and brilliant skies; no golden sunshine pouring down on tawny sands, over which waved the long pinnate leaves of the cocoa-nuts palms; no brilliant-coloured fish that seemed to be waiting to be caught; no glorious life of freedom, with their boat to enable them to glide from isle to isle, where it was always summer; but rain, rain, rain, always rain, pouring down from a lead-black sky.A dreary prospect, but not half so dreary as Dexter’s spirits, as he thought of what was to come.If ever boy felt miserable, he did that next morning, for they were all going back to Coleby. The romantic adventure was at an end, and he was like a prisoner.Why had he left the doctor’s? What had he gained by it but misery and wretchedness. Bob had turned out one of the most contemptible cowards that ever stepped. He had proved to be a miserable tyrannical bully when they were alone; and in the face of danger a wretched cur; while now that they were caught he was ready to tell any lie to save his own skin.What would Helen say to him, and think of him? What would Mr Hippetts say—and Mr Sibery?He would be sent back to the Union of course; and one moment he found himself wishing that he had never left the schools to be confronted with such misery as he felt now.They were on their way back by rail. The doctor, who had not even looked at him, was in a first-class carriage with Sir James, and the plans being altered, and the boat sent up to Coleby by a trustworthy man, Bob and Dexter were returning in a second-class carriage, with their custodians, Peter and old Dan’l.They were the sole occupants of the carriage, and soon after starting Bob turned to Dexter—“I say!” he exclaimed.Dexter started, and looked at him indignantly—so angrily, in fact, that Bob grinned.“Yer needn’t look like that,” he said. “If I forgives yer, and begins to talk to yer, what more d’yer want!”Dexter turned away, and looked out of the window.“There’s a sulky one!” said Bob, with a coarse laugh; and as he spoke it was as if he were appealing to old Dan’l and Peter in turn. “He would do it. I tried to hold him back, but he would do it, and he made me come, and now he turns on me like that.”“You’re a nice un,” said Peter, staring hard at the boy.“So are you!” said the young scamp insolently. “You mind yer own business, and look arter him. He’s got to look arter me—ain’t yer, sir!”“Yes,” said old Dan’l sourly; “and I’m going to stuff a hankychy or something else into your mouth if you don’t hold your tongue.”“Oh, are yer!” said Bob boldly. “I should just like to see yer do it.”“Then you shall if you don’t keep quiet.”Bob was silent for a few minutes, and then amused himself by making a derisive grimace at Dan’l as soon as he was looking another way.“It was all his fault,” he said sullenly. “He would take the boat.”“Ah, there was about six o’ one of you, and half a dozen of the other,” said Peter, laughing. “You’ll get it, young fellow. Six weeks hard labour, and then four years in a reformatory. That’s about your dose.”“Is it?” said Bob derisively. “That’s what he’ll get, and serve him right—a sneak.”Dexter’s cheeks, which were very pale, began to show spots of red, but he stared out of the window.“I shouldn’t have gone, only he was allus at me,” continued Bob. “Allus. Some chaps ain’t never satisfied.”Old Dan’l filled his pipe, and began to smoke.“You’ll get enough to satisfy you,” said Peter. “I say, Dan’l, you wouldn’t mind, would you?”“Mind what?” grunted Dan’l.“Giving me one of the noo brooms. One out o’ the last dozen—the long switchy ones. I could just cut the band, and make about three reg’lar teasers out of one broom.”“What, birch-rods?” said Dan’l, with a sort of cast-iron knocker smile.“Yes,” said Peter.“Mind? no, my lad, you may have two of ’em, and I should like to have the laying of it on.”“Yah! would yer!” said Bob defiantly. “Dessay you would. I should like to see yer.”“But you wouldn’t like to feel it,” said Peter. “My eye, you will open that pretty mouth of yours! Pig-ringing’ll be nothing to it.”“Won’t be me,” said Bob. “It’ll be him, and serve him right.”Dexter’s cheeks grew redder as he pictured the disgrace of a flogging scene.“Not it,” continued Peter. “You’ll get all that. Sir James’ll give it you as sure as a gun. Won’t he, Dan’l!”“Ah!” ejaculated the old gardener. “I heerd him say over and over again that ha wouldn’t lose that boat for a hundred pounds. You’ll get it, my gentleman!”“No, I shan’t, ’cause I didn’t do it. He’ll give it to him, and sarve him right, leading me on to go with him, and boasting and bouncing about, and then pretending he wanted to buy the boat, and saying he sent me with the money.”“So I did,” cried Dexter, turning sharply round; “and you stole it, and then told lies.”“That I didn’t,” said Bob. “I never see no money. ’Tain’t likely. It’s all a tale you made up, and—oh!”Bob burst into a regular bellow of pain, for, as he had been speaking, he had edged along the seat a little from his corner of the carriage, to bring himself nearer Dexter, who occupied the opposite diagonal corner. As Bob spoke he nodded his head, and thrust his face forward at Dexter so temptingly, that, quick as lightning, the latter flung out his right, and gave Bob a back-handed blow in the cheek.“Oh!how!” cried Bob; and then menacingly, “Here, just you do that again!”Dexter’s blood was up. There was a long course of bullying to avenge, and he did that again, a good deal harder, with the result that the yell Bob emitted rose well above the rattle of the carriage.“Well done, young un,” cried Peter delightedly. “That’s right. Give it him again. Here, Dan’l, let ’em have it out, and we’ll see fair!”“No, no, no!” growled the old gardener, stretching out one hand, and catching Bob by the collar, so as to drag him back into his corner—a job he had not the slightest difficulty in doing. “None o’ that. They’d be blacking one another’s eyes, and there’d be a row.”“Never mind,” cried Peter, with all the love of excitement of his class.“No, no,” said Dan’l. “No fighting;” and he gave Dexter a grim look of satisfaction, which had more kindness in it than any the boy had yet seen.“Here, you let me get at him!” cried Bob.“No, no, you sit still,” said Dan’l, holding him back with one hand.The task was very easy. A baby could have held Bob, in spite of the furious show of struggling that he made, while, on the other hand, Peter sat grinning, and was compelled to pass one arm round Dexter, and clasp his own wrist, so as to thoroughly imprison him, and keep him back.“Better let ’em have it out, Dan’l,” he cried. “My one’s ready.”“Let me go. Let me get at him,” shrieked Bob.“Yes, let him go, Dan’l,” cried Peter.But Dan’l shook his head, and as Bob kept on struggling and uttering threats, the old man turned upon him fiercely—“Hold your tongue, will you?” he roared. “You so much as say another word, and I’ll make you fight it put.”Bob’s jaw dropped, and he stared in astonishment at the fierce face before him, reading therein so much determination to carry the threat into effect that he subsided sulkily in his corner, and turned away his face, for every time he glanced at the other end of the carriage it was to see Peter grinning at him.“Ah!” said Peter at last; “it’s a good job for us as Dan’l held you back. You made me shiver.”Bob scowled.“He’s thoroughbred game, he is, Dan’l.”Dan’l chuckled.“He’d be a terrible chap when his monkey was up. Oh, I am glad. He’d ha’ been sure to win.”“Let him alone,” growled Dan’l, with a low chuckling noise that sounded something like the slow turning of a weak watchman’s rattle; and then muttering something about white-livered he subsided into his corner, and solaced himself with his pipe.Meanwhile Peter sat opposite, talking in a low tone to Dexter, and began to ask him questions about his adventures, listening with the greatest eagerness to the short answers he received, till Dexter looked up at him piteously.“Don’t talk to me, please, Peter,” he said. “I want to sit and think.”“And so you shall, my lad,” said the groom; and he too took out a pipe, and smoked till they reached Coleby.Dexter shivered as he stepped out upon the platform. It seemed to him that the stationmaster and porters were staring at him as the boy who ran away, and he was looking round for a way of retreat, so as to escape what was to come, when Sir James and the doctor came up to them.“You can let that boy go,” said the doctor to Dan’l.“Let him go, sir?” cried the gardener, looking at both the gentlemen in turn.Sir James nodded.Bob, whose eyes had been rat-like in their eager peering from face to face, whisked himself free, darted to the end of the platform, and uttered a loud yell before he disappeared.“Look here, Dexter,” said the doctor coldly; “I have been talking to Sir James on our way here. Now sir, will you give me your word not to try and escape?”Dexter looked at him for a moment or two.“Yes, sir,” he said at last, with a sigh.“Then come with me.”“Come with you, sir?”Dexter looked at his stained and muddy clothes.“Yes,” said the doctor; “come with me.”Sir James shrugged his shoulders slightly, and gave the doctor a meaning look.“Good-bye, Grayson,” he said, and he shook hands.“As for you, sir,” he added sternly, as he turned to Dexter, “you and your companion have had a very narrow escape. If it had not been for your good friend here, matters would have gone ill with you—worse perhaps than you think.”Dexter hung his head, and at a sign from the doctor went to his side, and they walked out of the station with Dan’l and Peter behind.The doctor stopped.“You have given me your word, sir, that you will come quietly up to the house,” he said coldly.“Yes, sir,” said Dexter sadly.The doctor, signed to Dan’l and Peter to come up to them.“You can go on first,” he said; and the men passed on.“I don’t want you to feel as if you were a prisoner, Dexter,” said the doctor gravely. “It is one of the grandest things in a gentleman—his word—which means his word of honour.”Dexter had nothing he could say; and with a strange swelling at the throat he walked on beside the doctor, gazing at the pavement a couple of yards in front of him, and suffering as a sensitive boy would suffer as he felt how degraded and dirty he looked, and how many people in the town must know of his running away, and be gazing at him, now that he was brought back by the doctor, who looked upon him as a thief.Every house and shop they passed was familiar. There were several of the tradespeople too standing at their doors ready to salute the doctor, and Dexter’s cheeks burned with shame. His punishment seemed more than he could bear.In another ten minutes they would be at the house, where Maria would open the door, and give him a peculiar contemptuous look—the old look largely intensified; and but for the doctor’s words, and the promise given, the boy felt that he must have run away down the first side-turning they passed.Then, as Maria faded from his mental vision, pleasant old Mrs Millett appeared, with her hands raised, and quite a storm of reproaches ready to be administered to him, followed, when she had finished and forgiven him, as he knew she would forgive him, by a dose of physic, deemed by her to be absolutely necessary after his escapade.The house at last, and everything just as Dexter had anticipated. Maria opened the door, and then wrinkled up her forehead and screwed up her lips in a supercilious smile.“Your mistress in!” said the doctor.“Yes, sir, in the drawing-room, sir.”“Hah!” ejaculated the doctor.“Found him, sir?Andbrought him back!” cried a familiar voice; and Mrs Millett hurried into the hall. “O you bold, bad boy!” she cried. “How dare you? And you never took your medicine that night. Oh, for shame! for shame!”“Hush, hush, Mrs Millett!” said the doctor sternly. “That will do.”He signed to the old lady, and she left the hall, but turned to shake her head at the returned culprit as she went, while Maria gave him a meaning smile as soon as the doctor’s back was turned, and then passed through the baize door.The doctor stood there silent and frowning for a few minutes, with his eyes fixed upon the floor, while Dexter awaited his sentence, painfully conscious, and longing for the doctor to speak and put him out of his misery.“Now, sir,” he said at last; “you had better go in and speak to Miss Grayson. She is waiting, I suppose, to see you in that room. I sent word we were coming.”“No, no,” said Dexter quickly. “Don’t send me in there, sir. You’d better send me back to the school, sir. I’m no good, and shall only get into trouble again; please send me back. I shouldn’t like to see Miss Grayson now.”“Why not!” said the doctor sternly.“Because you don’t believe me, sir, and she won’t, and—and—you had better send me back.”“I am waiting to see you here, Dexter,” said Helen gravely, and the boy started away with a cry, for the drawing-room door had opened silently, and Helen was standing on the mat.

The first wet day there had been for a month. It seemed as if Mother Nature had been saving up all her rain in a great cistern, and was then letting it out at once.

No glorious sapphire seas and brilliant skies; no golden sunshine pouring down on tawny sands, over which waved the long pinnate leaves of the cocoa-nuts palms; no brilliant-coloured fish that seemed to be waiting to be caught; no glorious life of freedom, with their boat to enable them to glide from isle to isle, where it was always summer; but rain, rain, rain, always rain, pouring down from a lead-black sky.

A dreary prospect, but not half so dreary as Dexter’s spirits, as he thought of what was to come.

If ever boy felt miserable, he did that next morning, for they were all going back to Coleby. The romantic adventure was at an end, and he was like a prisoner.

Why had he left the doctor’s? What had he gained by it but misery and wretchedness. Bob had turned out one of the most contemptible cowards that ever stepped. He had proved to be a miserable tyrannical bully when they were alone; and in the face of danger a wretched cur; while now that they were caught he was ready to tell any lie to save his own skin.

What would Helen say to him, and think of him? What would Mr Hippetts say—and Mr Sibery?

He would be sent back to the Union of course; and one moment he found himself wishing that he had never left the schools to be confronted with such misery as he felt now.

They were on their way back by rail. The doctor, who had not even looked at him, was in a first-class carriage with Sir James, and the plans being altered, and the boat sent up to Coleby by a trustworthy man, Bob and Dexter were returning in a second-class carriage, with their custodians, Peter and old Dan’l.

They were the sole occupants of the carriage, and soon after starting Bob turned to Dexter—

“I say!” he exclaimed.

Dexter started, and looked at him indignantly—so angrily, in fact, that Bob grinned.

“Yer needn’t look like that,” he said. “If I forgives yer, and begins to talk to yer, what more d’yer want!”

Dexter turned away, and looked out of the window.

“There’s a sulky one!” said Bob, with a coarse laugh; and as he spoke it was as if he were appealing to old Dan’l and Peter in turn. “He would do it. I tried to hold him back, but he would do it, and he made me come, and now he turns on me like that.”

“You’re a nice un,” said Peter, staring hard at the boy.

“So are you!” said the young scamp insolently. “You mind yer own business, and look arter him. He’s got to look arter me—ain’t yer, sir!”

“Yes,” said old Dan’l sourly; “and I’m going to stuff a hankychy or something else into your mouth if you don’t hold your tongue.”

“Oh, are yer!” said Bob boldly. “I should just like to see yer do it.”

“Then you shall if you don’t keep quiet.”

Bob was silent for a few minutes, and then amused himself by making a derisive grimace at Dan’l as soon as he was looking another way.

“It was all his fault,” he said sullenly. “He would take the boat.”

“Ah, there was about six o’ one of you, and half a dozen of the other,” said Peter, laughing. “You’ll get it, young fellow. Six weeks hard labour, and then four years in a reformatory. That’s about your dose.”

“Is it?” said Bob derisively. “That’s what he’ll get, and serve him right—a sneak.”

Dexter’s cheeks, which were very pale, began to show spots of red, but he stared out of the window.

“I shouldn’t have gone, only he was allus at me,” continued Bob. “Allus. Some chaps ain’t never satisfied.”

Old Dan’l filled his pipe, and began to smoke.

“You’ll get enough to satisfy you,” said Peter. “I say, Dan’l, you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“Mind what?” grunted Dan’l.

“Giving me one of the noo brooms. One out o’ the last dozen—the long switchy ones. I could just cut the band, and make about three reg’lar teasers out of one broom.”

“What, birch-rods?” said Dan’l, with a sort of cast-iron knocker smile.

“Yes,” said Peter.

“Mind? no, my lad, you may have two of ’em, and I should like to have the laying of it on.”

“Yah! would yer!” said Bob defiantly. “Dessay you would. I should like to see yer.”

“But you wouldn’t like to feel it,” said Peter. “My eye, you will open that pretty mouth of yours! Pig-ringing’ll be nothing to it.”

“Won’t be me,” said Bob. “It’ll be him, and serve him right.”

Dexter’s cheeks grew redder as he pictured the disgrace of a flogging scene.

“Not it,” continued Peter. “You’ll get all that. Sir James’ll give it you as sure as a gun. Won’t he, Dan’l!”

“Ah!” ejaculated the old gardener. “I heerd him say over and over again that ha wouldn’t lose that boat for a hundred pounds. You’ll get it, my gentleman!”

“No, I shan’t, ’cause I didn’t do it. He’ll give it to him, and sarve him right, leading me on to go with him, and boasting and bouncing about, and then pretending he wanted to buy the boat, and saying he sent me with the money.”

“So I did,” cried Dexter, turning sharply round; “and you stole it, and then told lies.”

“That I didn’t,” said Bob. “I never see no money. ’Tain’t likely. It’s all a tale you made up, and—oh!”

Bob burst into a regular bellow of pain, for, as he had been speaking, he had edged along the seat a little from his corner of the carriage, to bring himself nearer Dexter, who occupied the opposite diagonal corner. As Bob spoke he nodded his head, and thrust his face forward at Dexter so temptingly, that, quick as lightning, the latter flung out his right, and gave Bob a back-handed blow in the cheek.

“Oh!how!” cried Bob; and then menacingly, “Here, just you do that again!”

Dexter’s blood was up. There was a long course of bullying to avenge, and he did that again, a good deal harder, with the result that the yell Bob emitted rose well above the rattle of the carriage.

“Well done, young un,” cried Peter delightedly. “That’s right. Give it him again. Here, Dan’l, let ’em have it out, and we’ll see fair!”

“No, no, no!” growled the old gardener, stretching out one hand, and catching Bob by the collar, so as to drag him back into his corner—a job he had not the slightest difficulty in doing. “None o’ that. They’d be blacking one another’s eyes, and there’d be a row.”

“Never mind,” cried Peter, with all the love of excitement of his class.

“No, no,” said Dan’l. “No fighting;” and he gave Dexter a grim look of satisfaction, which had more kindness in it than any the boy had yet seen.

“Here, you let me get at him!” cried Bob.

“No, no, you sit still,” said Dan’l, holding him back with one hand.

The task was very easy. A baby could have held Bob, in spite of the furious show of struggling that he made, while, on the other hand, Peter sat grinning, and was compelled to pass one arm round Dexter, and clasp his own wrist, so as to thoroughly imprison him, and keep him back.

“Better let ’em have it out, Dan’l,” he cried. “My one’s ready.”

“Let me go. Let me get at him,” shrieked Bob.

“Yes, let him go, Dan’l,” cried Peter.

But Dan’l shook his head, and as Bob kept on struggling and uttering threats, the old man turned upon him fiercely—

“Hold your tongue, will you?” he roared. “You so much as say another word, and I’ll make you fight it put.”

Bob’s jaw dropped, and he stared in astonishment at the fierce face before him, reading therein so much determination to carry the threat into effect that he subsided sulkily in his corner, and turned away his face, for every time he glanced at the other end of the carriage it was to see Peter grinning at him.

“Ah!” said Peter at last; “it’s a good job for us as Dan’l held you back. You made me shiver.”

Bob scowled.

“He’s thoroughbred game, he is, Dan’l.”

Dan’l chuckled.

“He’d be a terrible chap when his monkey was up. Oh, I am glad. He’d ha’ been sure to win.”

“Let him alone,” growled Dan’l, with a low chuckling noise that sounded something like the slow turning of a weak watchman’s rattle; and then muttering something about white-livered he subsided into his corner, and solaced himself with his pipe.

Meanwhile Peter sat opposite, talking in a low tone to Dexter, and began to ask him questions about his adventures, listening with the greatest eagerness to the short answers he received, till Dexter looked up at him piteously.

“Don’t talk to me, please, Peter,” he said. “I want to sit and think.”

“And so you shall, my lad,” said the groom; and he too took out a pipe, and smoked till they reached Coleby.

Dexter shivered as he stepped out upon the platform. It seemed to him that the stationmaster and porters were staring at him as the boy who ran away, and he was looking round for a way of retreat, so as to escape what was to come, when Sir James and the doctor came up to them.

“You can let that boy go,” said the doctor to Dan’l.

“Let him go, sir?” cried the gardener, looking at both the gentlemen in turn.

Sir James nodded.

Bob, whose eyes had been rat-like in their eager peering from face to face, whisked himself free, darted to the end of the platform, and uttered a loud yell before he disappeared.

“Look here, Dexter,” said the doctor coldly; “I have been talking to Sir James on our way here. Now sir, will you give me your word not to try and escape?”

Dexter looked at him for a moment or two.

“Yes, sir,” he said at last, with a sigh.

“Then come with me.”

“Come with you, sir?”

Dexter looked at his stained and muddy clothes.

“Yes,” said the doctor; “come with me.”

Sir James shrugged his shoulders slightly, and gave the doctor a meaning look.

“Good-bye, Grayson,” he said, and he shook hands.

“As for you, sir,” he added sternly, as he turned to Dexter, “you and your companion have had a very narrow escape. If it had not been for your good friend here, matters would have gone ill with you—worse perhaps than you think.”

Dexter hung his head, and at a sign from the doctor went to his side, and they walked out of the station with Dan’l and Peter behind.

The doctor stopped.

“You have given me your word, sir, that you will come quietly up to the house,” he said coldly.

“Yes, sir,” said Dexter sadly.

The doctor, signed to Dan’l and Peter to come up to them.

“You can go on first,” he said; and the men passed on.

“I don’t want you to feel as if you were a prisoner, Dexter,” said the doctor gravely. “It is one of the grandest things in a gentleman—his word—which means his word of honour.”

Dexter had nothing he could say; and with a strange swelling at the throat he walked on beside the doctor, gazing at the pavement a couple of yards in front of him, and suffering as a sensitive boy would suffer as he felt how degraded and dirty he looked, and how many people in the town must know of his running away, and be gazing at him, now that he was brought back by the doctor, who looked upon him as a thief.

Every house and shop they passed was familiar. There were several of the tradespeople too standing at their doors ready to salute the doctor, and Dexter’s cheeks burned with shame. His punishment seemed more than he could bear.

In another ten minutes they would be at the house, where Maria would open the door, and give him a peculiar contemptuous look—the old look largely intensified; and but for the doctor’s words, and the promise given, the boy felt that he must have run away down the first side-turning they passed.

Then, as Maria faded from his mental vision, pleasant old Mrs Millett appeared, with her hands raised, and quite a storm of reproaches ready to be administered to him, followed, when she had finished and forgiven him, as he knew she would forgive him, by a dose of physic, deemed by her to be absolutely necessary after his escapade.

The house at last, and everything just as Dexter had anticipated. Maria opened the door, and then wrinkled up her forehead and screwed up her lips in a supercilious smile.

“Your mistress in!” said the doctor.

“Yes, sir, in the drawing-room, sir.”

“Hah!” ejaculated the doctor.

“Found him, sir?Andbrought him back!” cried a familiar voice; and Mrs Millett hurried into the hall. “O you bold, bad boy!” she cried. “How dare you? And you never took your medicine that night. Oh, for shame! for shame!”

“Hush, hush, Mrs Millett!” said the doctor sternly. “That will do.”

He signed to the old lady, and she left the hall, but turned to shake her head at the returned culprit as she went, while Maria gave him a meaning smile as soon as the doctor’s back was turned, and then passed through the baize door.

The doctor stood there silent and frowning for a few minutes, with his eyes fixed upon the floor, while Dexter awaited his sentence, painfully conscious, and longing for the doctor to speak and put him out of his misery.

“Now, sir,” he said at last; “you had better go in and speak to Miss Grayson. She is waiting, I suppose, to see you in that room. I sent word we were coming.”

“No, no,” said Dexter quickly. “Don’t send me in there, sir. You’d better send me back to the school, sir. I’m no good, and shall only get into trouble again; please send me back. I shouldn’t like to see Miss Grayson now.”

“Why not!” said the doctor sternly.

“Because you don’t believe me, sir, and she won’t, and—and—you had better send me back.”

“I am waiting to see you here, Dexter,” said Helen gravely, and the boy started away with a cry, for the drawing-room door had opened silently, and Helen was standing on the mat.

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