"Eee! I say! Whatcher doing of!" roared Bob, beginning to struggle, as
Dexter contrived to get his feet once more.
"I--I couldn't help it, Bob," he said, in a shame-faced way.
"Couldn't help it! Here, don'tcher try to wake me again that way."
"I didn't. I--"
"Coming jumping on a fellow."
"I didn't, Bob. The boat stopped all at once, and I tumbled forward."
"Then just you tumble on to some one else next time," growled Bob,
sitting up rubbing himself, and then yawning loudly. "Why, hulloa!
Whatcher been doing of now?"
"I? Nothing Bob."
"Yes, you have. You've got the boat aground."
"I--I didn't indeed, Bob. It went like that all of itself," stammered
Dexter.
"Went all of itself! You are a fellow to leave to manage a boat. I
just shut my eyes a few minutes and you get up to them games. Here,
give us holt!"
He snatched at the boat-hook, and began to thrust with all his might:
but in vain.
"Don't stand staring like that," he cried, becoming all at once in a
violent hurry to get on. "Come and help. D'yer want them to come and
ketch us!"
Dexter went to his help, and by dint of thrusting together the boat was
pushed off the shallows, and gliding once more into deep water began to
float gently on.
There was a few minutes' silence, during which Bob took the sculls and
began to pull, looking, with his eyes red and swollen up, anything but a
pleasant companion; and in spite of himself Dexter began to think that
Bob as a conversational friend across the water was a very different
being to Bob as the captain of their little vessel, armed with
authority, and ready to tyrannise over his comrade to the fullest
extent.
Suddenly a thought occurred to Dexter as he ran his eye over the
handsome cushions of the well-varnished boat.
"Bob!" he said.
There was no answer.
"Bob, did you take that parcel and drop it in Sir James's letter-box!"
"What parcel!" said Bob sourly.
"That one I threw over to you last night."
"Oh! that one as fell in the water?"
"Yes: did you take it?"
"Why, didn't you tell me to!"
"Yes: but did you?"
"Why, of course I did."
"That's right. I say, where are we now?"
"I d'know. Somewhere down the river."
"Hadn't we better begin to fish?"
"Fish? What for?"
"Because I'm getting so hungry, and want my breakfast."
"Yes, you're a nice fellow to wantcher bragfuss. Got no money and no
clothes. I s'pose I shall have to keep yer."
"No, no, Bob. I'll work, or fish, or do anything."
"Yes, so it seems," said Bob sarcastically; "a-sitting there like a
gent, and letting me do everything."
"Well, let me pull one oar."
"No, I can do it, and you shall have some bragfuss presently. I don't
want to be took, because you've stole a boat."
Dexter turned pale, and then red with indignation, but he did not say
anything, only waited till his lord should feel disposed to see about
getting a meal.
This happened when they were about a couple of miles lower down the
stream, which steadily opened out and became more beautiful, till at
last it seemed to be fully double the size it was at Coleby.
Here they came abreast of a cluster of cottages on the bank, one of
which, a long whitewashed stone building, hung out a sign such as showed
that it was a place for refreshment.
"There," said Bob, "we'll land there--I mean you shall, and go in and
buy some bread and cheese."
"Bread and cheese," faltered Dexter. "Shan't we get any tea or coffee,
and bread and butter?"
"No! of course not. If we both get out they'll be asking us questions
about the boat."