It was very dark among the trees as Dexter reached the grass plot which
sloped to the willows by the river-side, but he knew his way so well
that he crept along in silence till he had one hand resting upon the
trunk he had so often climbed, and stood there gazing across the starlit
water, trying to make out the figure of his companion in the boat.
All was silent, save that, now and then, the water as it ran among the
tree-roots made a peculiar whispering sound, and once or twice there was
a faint plash in the distance, as if from the feeding of a fish.
"Hist! Bob! Are you there!"
"Hullo!" came from the other side. "I was just a-going."
"Going?"
"Yes. I thought you wasn't a-coming, and I wasn't going to stop here
all night."
"But you said twelve."
"Well, it struck twelve an hour ago."
"No; that was eleven. There--hark!"
As proof of Dexter's assertion the church clock just then began to
chime, and the heavy boom of the tenor bell proclaiming midnight seemed
to make the soft night air throb.
"Thought it was twelve long enough ago. Ready!"
"Yes," said Dexter, in an excited whisper. "Got the boat?"
"No: course I haven't. It'll take two to get that boat."
"But you said you would have it ready."
"Yes, I know; but we must both of us do that. I waited till you come."