uel to him--so treacherous.
And somehow it had seemed more cruel, more treacherous, since Paul had
told him the story of his father's death.

"All serene, Harry," cried Plunger. "The road's clear. We've got it all
to ourselves."

"That's good," said Harry. "We're in luck's way. Let's make hay while
the sun shines. Wait for us on the towing-path, Hibbert. We'll soon be
alongside."

Leaving Hibbert on the towing-path, the two boys got on the raft, and
proceeded to untie it from the stake to which it was attached. This did
not take them long, and, having secured a punting-pole, they soon
brought the raft to where Hibbert was awaiting them.

"I'd--I'd rather not go," said the boy hesitating.

"Don't talk rubbish. Get on. You don't mean to say you funk it?"

To tell the truth, Hibbert did "funk it," though there seemed so little
to fear; but he was, as we know, a nervous, timid boy. None the less, he
always tried to disguise his feelings even to himself.

"Funk--not a bit; but--but I'm never much help, and--and I thought I
might be in the way. It's a jolly raft, isn't he!" he said, as he
stepped on.

"Jolly."

Plunger pushed off and they went slowly down the river in the direction
of the plantation.

"It's smooth enough here, but what must it be like on the sea, eh?"
asked Plunger, after an interval of silence.

"Without any food or water and no sign of a sail."

"Yes, famishing with hunger and casting lots which shall die," added
Plunger cheerfully, glaring at Hibbert, as though he contemplated him
for a victim. Hibbert, pale before, turned to an ashen hue. "Why, what's
the matter, Camel? Don't you feel well? Seasick?"

"I--I'm all right. Is--isn't it jolly?" answered Hibbert, with a feeble
attempt at a smile.

Though Hibbert was far from enjoying himself, in spite of trying to
impress upon himself that he was, his companions were in their element.
As they floated along the river, they imagined themselves to be
adventurers, bent on discovery and deeds of heroism. All the same Harry
began to feel that Plunger, as usual, was trying to take up the position
of command, and make him play second fiddle.

"I say, Freddy," he presently burst out, "isn't it time that I did a bit
of punting?"

"I'd like you to have a try, I really would; but it's not so easy as it
looks. You've never done any punting, and you don't know how hard it
is."

"And what do you know about it? You've never done any of it till now.
You