ose belonging to
Mick's caravan did not seem surprised at seeing the children at freedom.
This was what Diana wished, and it had been partly with this object, as
well as to accustom Duke and Pamela a little to their present quarters,
that she had managed to get leave to take them out a little, late as it
was. It had seemed quite dark outside--looking through the window of the
van--but in reality it was only dusk, though the lights moving about,
the fires lit here and there in little stoves outside the booths, and
the general bustle and confusion, made it a very bewildering scene.
Pamela tried not to be frightened, but she clutched Diana's hand close,
till suddenly, on turning a corner, they ran against a boy coming at
full speed. It was Tim, and the little girl let go of Diana to spring to
him with a cry of pleasure.

"Oh Tim, dear Tim," she cried, "us hasn't seen you for such a long
time!"

"True enough, missy," he said cheerfully; and, looking at him more
closely, both children noticed that he did look brighter and merrier
than ever, little as he was in the habit of seeming sad. "It's all
right," he went on, turning to Diana; "such a piece o' luck!"

"Come and tell me as soon as we come back," said the girl. "I'll be in
the van putting them to bed. Mick's off--gone to look for the Signor.
I'll try for them to be asleep when _they_ come," and with these rather
mysterious words Diana drew on the children, and Tim ran off with a nod.

They walked on till they got a little clear of the crowd, and on to a
road evidently leading out of the town. It had grown darker, but the
moon had risen, and by her light at some little distance the children
saw the same silvery thread that they had noticed winding along below
them from the high moorland some days before.

"That's the river where the boats are like houses--that Tim told us
about," said Pamela.

"Yes," said Diana, "it's the canal. It comes right into the town over
that way," and she pointed the left. "The boats take stone from
hereabouts,--there's lots of quarries near Crookford. I wanted you to
see it, for we've been thinking, Tim and me--it's more his thought than
mine--that that'd be the best way for you to get away. Mick'll not be
likely to think of the canal, and Tim's been down to see if there was
any one among the boat-people as would take you. He used to know some of
them not far from here. And the canal goes straight on to a place called
Monkhaven, on the ro