locks—we think of going on the tramp—pyebridge—we set sail.

during our first day's voyage we passed two locks. there was one not very far from home, and fred and i had more than once been to see a barge pass it, sitting on the bank whilst the boat gradually sank to the level of the water below.

it was great fun being on board whilst the barge went down and down, though i must say we did not feel anything peculiar, we sank so gradually.

"just fancy if it was a hole in the ship's bottom," said fred, "and we were settling down with all on board. some ships do, and are never heard of again."

we amused ourselves as we went along by guessing beforehand on which shore the next house or hamlet would appear. we betted shillings on the result, but neither of us won or lost, for however [93]often the shillings changed hands, they remained in the canvas bag.

perhaps places look more as if events happened in them if you do not know them well. i noticed that even our town looked more interesting from the water than i had ever seen it look, so i dare say to strangers it does not appear so dull as it is. all the villages on the canal banks looked interesting. we passed one soon after tea, where the horse rested under some old willows by the towing-path, and we and mr. rowe went ashore. whilst the barge-master delivered a parcel to a friend, fred and i strolled into a lane which led us past cottages with very gay gardens to the church. the church was not at all like s. philip or s. james. it was squat, and ivy-covered, and carefully restored; and it stood in a garden where the flowers almost hid the graves. just outside the lych-gate, four lanes met, and all of them were so shady and inviting, and it was so impossible to say what they might not lead to, that i said to fred,

"you said the only way to run away besides going to sea was to tramp. it sounds rather low, but we needn't beg, and i think walking would be nice for a change, and i don't believe it would be much slower than the barge, and it would be so much shadier. and we could get off from old rowe at once, and [94]hide if we heard anybody coming. i wonder how far it is to london now?"

"not far, i dare say," said fred, who was pleased by the idea; "and if we keep on we must get there in time. and we can get things to eat in the hedges, which we can't do on the barge."

at this moment there passed a boy, to whom i said, "which is the way to london, if you please?" for there were four roads to choose from.

"what d' say?" said the boy.

i repeated my question.

"dunno," he replied, trying to cram half his hand into his mouth. the captain would have thought him very stupid if he had met him as a native in one of the islands of the pacific, i am sure; but i followed him, and begged him to try and think if he had not heard of people going to london.

at last his face brightened. he was looking over my head down the lane. "there's a man a-cummin yonder's always a-going to lunnon," said he. visions of a companion on our tramp—also perhaps in search of adventures—made me look briskly round. "him with the pipe, as b'longs to the barge," the boy exclaimed.

it was indeed mr. rowe come to look for us, and we had to try and seem [95]glad to see him, and to go on board once more.

towards evening the canal banks became dotted with fishers of all ages and degrees, fishing very patiently, though they did not seem to catch much.

soon after dark we reached the town of pyebridge.

when the barge lay-to for the night, and the driver was taking the horse away to the stable, mr. rowe confronted us, in his firmest manner, with the question, "and where are you going to sleep, young gentlemen?"

"where are you going to sleep, mr. rowe?" said i, after a thoughtful pause.

"i sleeps below, but the captain's cabin is guv up to no one—unless it be the queen," replied the barge-master, humorously but decidedly.

"we should like to sleep on deck," said i.

but mr. rowe would not hear of it, on account of various dreadful diseases which he assured us would be contracted by sleeping "in the damps of the water," "the dews of the hair," and "the rays of the moon."

"there's a hotel—" he began; but i said at once, "we couldn't afford a hotel, but if you know of any very cheap place we should be much obliged."

mr. rowe took off his hat and took out his handkerchief, though it was no longer hot. having cleared his brain, he said he "would see," and he finally led us along one of the pebbled streets of [96]pyebridge to a small house with a small shop-window for the sale of vegetables, and with a card announcing that there were beds to let. a very little old woman got up from behind a very big old geranium in the window as we entered, and with her mr. rowe made our arrangements for the night. we got a clean bed, and had a mug of milk and a slice of bread and treacle apiece for breakfast the next morning, and i paid two shillings. as i thanked the old lady and bade her good day, she called to me to hold out my hat, which she filled with cherries, and then stood at the door and watched us out of sight.

there was a railway station in pyebridge, and we might easily have escaped from mr. rowe, and gone by train to london. but besides the fact that our funds were becoming low, the water had a new attraction for us. we had left the canal behind, and were henceforward on a river. if the wind favoured us we were to sail.

"a canal's nothing to a river," said mr. rowe, "same as a river's nothing to the sea," and when fred had some difficulty in keeping his hat on in the gusty street (mine was in use as a fruit-basket), and the barge-master said it was a "nice fresh morning," i felt that life on linnet island would have been tame indeed compared to the hopes and [97]fears of a career which depended on the winds and waves.

and when the boom went up the barge's mast, and the tightly corded roll of dark canvas began to struggle for liberty, and writhe and flap with throttling noises above our heads, and when mr. rowe wrestled with it and the driver helped him, and fred and i tried to, and were all but swept overboard in consequence, whilst the barge-master encouraged himself by strange and savage sounds—and when the sunshine caught our nut-brown sail just as she spread gallantly to the breeze, our excitement grew till we both cried in one breath,

"this is something like being at sea!"