"But how am I to get to you!"
"Come across," said Bob coolly.
"Come across--in the dark!"
"Why, of course. You ain't afraid, are you? Well, you are a chap!"
"But it's too deep to wade."
"Well, who said it wasn't!" growled the boy. "You can swim, can't you?"
"But I shall get so wet."
"Yah!" ejaculated Bob in tones of disgust. "You are a fellow. Take
your clothes off, make 'em in a bundle, and swim over."
Dexter was half-disposed to say, "You swim across to me," but nothing
would have been gained if he had, so, after a few minutes' hesitation,
and in genuine dread, he obeyed the wishes of his companion, but only to
pause when he was half-undressed.
"I say, though," he whispered, "can't you get the boat? It's so cold
and dark."
"Well, you are a fellow!" cried Bob. "Beginning to grumble afore we
start. It's no use to have a mate who's afraid of a drop of water, and
don't like to get wet."
"But--"
"There, never mind," grumbled Bob; "we won't go."
"But I didn't say I wouldn't come, Bob," whispered Dexter desperately.
"I'll come."
There was no answer.
"Bob." Still silence.
"I say, don't go, Bob. I'm very sorry. I'm undressing as fast as I
can. You haven't gone, have you?"
Still silence, and Dexter ceased undressing, and stood there in the cold
night air, feeling as desolate, despairing, and forlorn as boy could be.
"What shall I do?" he said to himself; and then, in a despondent
whisper, "Bob!"
"Hullo!"
"Why, you haven't gone!" joyfully.
"No; but I'm going directly. It's no use for me to have a mate who
hasn't got any pluck. Now then, are you coming, or are you not!"
"I'm coming," said Dexter. "But stop a moment. I'll be back directly."
"Whatcher going to do!"
"Wait a moment and I'll show you."
Dexter had had a happy thought, and turning and running in his trousers
to the tool-shed, he dragged out a small deal box in which seeds had
come down from London that spring. It was a well-made tight box, and
quite light, and with this he ran back.
"Why, what are you doing?" grumbled Bob, as soon as he heard his
companion's voice.
"Been getting something to put my clothes in," whispered Dexter. "I
don't want to get them wet."
"Oh," said Bob, in a most unconcerned way; and he began to whistle
softly, as Dexter finished undressing, tucked all his clothes tightly in
the box, and bore it down to the water's edge, where it floated like a
little boat.
"There!" cried Dexter excitedly. "Now they'll be all dry when I've got
across. Ugh! how cold the water is," he continued, as he dipped one
foot. "I wish I'd brought a towel."
"Yah! what does a fellow want with a towel? You soon gets dry if you
run about. Going to walk across!"
"I can't," said Dexter; "it's too deep."
"Well, then, swim. I could swim that with one hand tied behind."
"I couldn't," said Dexter, hesitating, for it was no pleasant task to
plunge into the little gliding river at midnight, and with all dark
around.
"Now then! Look alive! Don't make a splash."
"Oh!"
"What's the matter?"
"It is cold."
"Yah! Then, get back to bed with you, and let me go alone."
"I'm coming as fast as I can," said Dexter, as he lowered himself into
the stream, and then rapidly climbed out again, as the cold water caused
a sudden catching of the breath; and a nervous shrinking from trusting
himself in the dark river made him draw right away from the edge.
"Why, you ain't swimming," said Bob. "Here, look sharp! Why, you ain't
in!"
"N-no, not yet," said Dexter, shivering.
"There's a coward!" sneered Bob.
"I'm not a coward, but it seems so dark and horrible to-night, and as if
something might lay hold of you."
"Yes, you are a regular coward," sneered Bob. "There, jump in, or I'll
shy stones at yer till you do."
Dexter did not speak, but tumbled all of a heap on the short turf,
shrinking more and more from his task.
"I shall have to go without you," said Bob.
"I can't help it," said Dexter, in a low, tremulous whisper. "It's too
horrid to get in there and swim across in the dark."
"No, it ain't. I'd do it in a minute. There, jump in."
"No," said Dexter sadly. "I must give it up."
"What, yer won't do it!"
"I can't," said Dexter sadly. "We must try some other way. I'm going
to dress again. Oh!"
"What's the matter now!"
"My clothes!" _Splash_! _Rush_!
Dexter had rapidly lowered himself into the black deep stream and was
swimming hard and fast, for as he rose and sought for his garments he
suddenly recalled the fact that he had turned the box into a tiny barge,
laden it with his clothes, and placed them in the river, while now, as
he went to take them out, he found that the stream had borne the box
away, and it was going down toward the sea.
"Try if you can see them, Bob," said Dexter, as he panted and struggled
on through the water.
"See what?"
"My clothes. They're floating down the river."
Bob uttered a low chuckling laugh, and trotted along by the edge of the
river; but it was too dark for him to see anything, and Dexter,
forgetting cold and dread, swam bravely on, looking well to right and
left, without avail, till all at once, just in one of the deepest
eddies, some fifty yards down below the doctor's house, and where an
unusually large willow spread its arms over the stream, he caught sight
of something which blotted out the starlight for a moment, and then the
stars' reflection beamed out again.
Something was evidently floating there, and he made for it, to find to
his great joy that it was the floating box, which he pushed before him
as he swam, and a couple of minutes later he was near enough to the edge
on the meadow-side to ask Bob's help.
"Ain't got 'em, have you?" the latter whispered.
"Yes; all right. I'll come out there. Give me a hand."
Dexter swam to the muddy overhanging bank, and seized the hand which Bob
extended toward him.
"Now then, shall I duck yer!" said Bob, who had lain down on the wet
grass to extend his hand to the swimmer.
"No, no, Bob, don't. That would be cowardly," cried Dexter. "Help me
to get out my clothes without letting in the wet. It is so cold."
"But you swam over," said Bob sneeringly.
"Yes; but you don't know how chilly it makes you feel. Mind the
clothes."
Bob did mind, and the next minute Dexter and the barge of dry clothes
were upon the grass together.
"Oh, isn't it cold?" said Dexter, with his teeth chattering.
"Cold? no. Not a bit," said Bob. "Here, whatcher going to do!"
"Do? Dress myself. Here, give me my shirt. Oh, don't I wish I had a
towel!"
"You leave them things alone, stoopid. You can't dress yet."
"Not dress!"
"No," cried Bob loudly.
"What do you mean!"
"You come along and I'll show yer. Why, we haven't got the boat."
"No, but--"
"Well, you're all ready, and you've got to swim across and get it."
"I've got to get it!" cried Dexter in dismay. "Why, you said you would
get the boat."
"Yes, but I didn't know then that you were going to swim across."
"But you said it would take two to get it," protested Dexter.
"Yes, I thought so then, but you're all ready and can swim across, and
get it directly. Here, come along!"
"But--but," stammered Dexter, who was shivering in the chill night air.
"What, you're cold? Well, come along. I'll carry the box. Let's run.
It'll warm yer."
Dexter was ready with another protest, but he did not utter it. His
companion seemed to carry him along with the force of his will, but all
the same there was a troublous feeling forcing itself upon him that he
had made a mistake, and he could not help a longing for his room at the
doctor's with its warm bed, comfort, safety, and repose.
But he knew it was too late, and he was too much hurried and confused to
do more than try to keep up with Bob Dimsted as he ran by his side
carrying the box till they had reached the meadow facing Sir James
Danby's garden; and there, just dimly seen across the river, was the low
gable-end of the boat-house beneath the trees.
"Hush! don't make a row," whispered Bob. "Now then, slip in and fetch
it. Why, you could almost jump it."
"But, Bob--I--I don't like to go. I'm so cold."
"I'll precious soon warm yer if you don't look sharp," cried Bob
fiercely. "Don't you try to make a fool of me. Now then, in with you!"
He had put the box down and gripped Dexter fiercely by the arm, causing
him so much pain that instead of alarming it roused the boy's flagging
spirit, and he turned fiercely upon his assailant, and wrested his arm
free.
"That's right," said Bob. "In with you. And be sharp, and then you can
dress yerself as we float down."
Dexter's instinct was to resist and give up, but he felt that he had
gone too far, and feeling that his companion might consider him a coward
if he refused to go, he lowered himself down into the water.
"That's yer sort," said Bob, in a loud whisper. "You'll soon do it."
"But suppose the chains are locked!"
"They won't be locked," said Bob. "You go acrost and see."
In the eager desire to get an unpleasant task done, Dexter let himself
glide down into the swift stream about a dozen yards above the
boat-house, and giving himself a good thrust off with his feet, he swam
steadily and easily across, the river there being about thirty yards
wide, and in a very short time he managed to touch the post at the outer
corner of the long low boat-house. Then, hardly knowing how he managed
it, he found bottom as his hand grasped the gunwale of the boat, and
walking along beside it he soon reached the chain which moored it to the
end.
Here in his excitement and dread it seemed as if his mission was to
fail. It was dark enough outside, but in the boat-house everything
seemed to be of pitchy blackness, and try how he would he could find no
way of unfastening the chain.
He tried toward the boat, then downwards, then upwards, and in the boat
again, and again. His teeth were chattering, his chest and shoulders
felt as if they were freezing, and his hands, as they fumbled with the
wet chain, began to grow numbed, while, to add to his excitement and
confusion, Bob kept on from time to time sending across the river a
quick hissing--
"I say; look sharp."
Then he heard a sound, and he splashed through the water in retreat
toward the river, for it seemed that they were discovered, and some one
coming down the garden.
But the sound was repeated, and he realised the fact that it was only
the side of the boat striking against a post.
"I say, are you a-coming?" whispered Bob.
"I can't undo the chain," Dexter whispered back.
"Yer don't half try."
Just then the clock chimed half-past twelve, and Dexter stopped
involuntarily; but a fresh summons from his companion roused him to
further action, and he passed once more along to the prow of the boat,
and seizing the chain felt along it till this time he felt a hook, and,
wondering how it was that he had missed it before, he began with
trembling fingers to try and get it out from the link through which it
was thrust.
It was in very tightly, though, for the point being wedge-shaped the
swaying about and jerking to and fro of the boat had driven it further
and further in, so that it was not until he had been ready over and over
again to give up in despair that the boy got the iron free.
Then panting with dread and excitement he found the rest easy; the chain
was passed through a ring-bolt in one of the posts at the head of the
boat-house, and through this he drew it back slowly and cautiously on
account of the rattling it made.
It seemed of interminable length as he drew and drew, piling up the
chain in the bows of the boat till he thought he must have obtained all,
when there was a sudden check, and it would come no further.
Simple enough in broad daylight, and to a person in the boat, but Dexter
was standing waist deep in the water, and once more he felt that the
case was hopeless.
Another call from Bob roused him, and he followed the chain with his
hand till he had waded to the post, and found that the hook had merely
caught in the ring, and only needed lifting out, and the boat was at
liberty.
But just at this moment there was a furious barking, and a dog seemed to
be tearing down the garden toward the boat-house.
In an agony of horror Dexter climbed into the boat, and feeling the side
of the long shed he thrust and thrust with so much effect that he sent
the light gig well out into the stream and half-across the river. Then
seizing an oar, as the dog was now down on the bank, snapping and
barking more furiously than ever, he got it over into the water, and
after a great deal of paddling, and confused counter-action of his
efforts, forced the boat onward and along, till it touched the shore
where Bob was waiting with the box.
"No, no, don't come out," he whispered. "Here, help me get these in."
Dexter crept to the stern of the boat, and in his effort to embark the
box nearly fell overboard, but the treasure was safe. Then Bob handed
in a basket, and a bundle of sticks, evidently his rod, and leaping in
directly after, gave the boat sufficient impetus to send it well out
into the stream, down which it began to glide.
"Ah, bark away, old un," said Bob contemptuously, as the sound of the
dog's alarm notes grew more distant, and then more distant still, for
they were going round a curve, and the garden side of the river was
thick with trees.
"Is that Danby's dog!" whispered Bob.
"I don't know," said Dexter, with his teeth chattering from cold and
excitement.
"Why! you're a-cold," said Bob coolly. "Here, I'll send her along. You
look sharp and dress. I say, where's your bundle of things?"
"Do you mean my clothes?"
"No! Your bundle."
"I didn't bring anything," said Dexter, hurriedly slipping on his shirt.
"Well, you are a chap!" said Bob sourly, but Dexter hardly heard him,
for he was trying to get his wet body covered from the chill night air;
and he could think of nothing but the fact that he had taken a very
desperate step, and the boat was bearing them rapidly away from what
seemed now to have been a very happy home--further out, further away
from the doctor and from Helen, downward toward the sea, and over that
there was a great black cloud, beyond which, according to Bob Dimsted,
there were bright and glorious lands.
At that moment, chill with the cold and damp, Dexter would have given
anything to have been back in his old room, but it was too late, the
boat was gliding on, and Bob had now got out the sculls. The town
lights were receding, and they were going onward toward that dark cloud
which Dexter seemed to see more dimly now, for there was a dumb
depressing sensation of despair upon him, and he turned his eyes toward
the river-bank, asking himself if he could leap ashore.