the Severn bank--right away to the
hamlet of Westbury. Here they parted company, the sailor going on to
Newnham, where he was to make inquiries after Rob, his companion
striking off across the fields on pretence of visiting a certain farmer.

Dan was right on the track of his friend, although he anticipated a
dangerous and exciting search through the dense, dark forest that rose
on the swelling hills before him. He was agreeably disappointed. A
grizzled old fisherman stood on the river quay idly watching his boat
as it bobbed up and down on the rushing tide. Dan gave him a brotherly
greeting, then halted for a few minutes' rest and conversation. At
first the traveller talked of "tides" as though they were his chief
interest in life. The fisherman had an opportunity of learning that
the tides of the Plym, Fal, and Dart were beyond computation better
than those of the Severn; in fact, he was asked to believe that the
last-named river was no better than a mud heap that got flooded with
brackish water twice a day. The fisherman stoutly combated this
slander, and a pretty quarrel seemed imminent, when Dan went off at a
tangent, and "wondered" whether any one in Newnham had espied a tall,
lean, one-eared man looking at boat or stream at any time. "He's not a
native of these parts," added he, by way of rounding off his
description.

But the fisherman was not prepared for this sudden change of subject,
and he took a minute or two for quiet meditation ere he volunteered the
information that "all Newnham" knew the person in question.

"He was up to Captain Dawe's but yesterday," he said.

"Ought to be dwelling with a tall fellow named Morgan," said Dan.

"Lives with Johnnie Morgan of Blakeney," replied the other. "Everybody
knows Johnnie Morgan. He's kissed the Queen's hand in her house in
London, and 'tis whispered that her Majesty kissed him. At any rate,
Johnnie's sweetheart quarrelled with him directly they got home again,
and the gossips put it down to jealousy."

Dan expressed his sorrow, and promised to advise Johnnie to hope for a
happy ending. "The course of true love never did run smooth, ye know."

"Never!" assented the fisherman.

"Now, how far is it to Blakeney, and must I go through the forest?"

"'Tis an afternoon's tramp, and a lonesome one; ye might run down on
the tide when it ebbs. There's my boat, and I'll take ye for twopence."

"Done! Shall we spill a flagon of ale, and say it is a b