ain he lifted and
replaced his hat. "Enviable boy! What would young Stanislas Mortimer
not have given at your age to set eyes on that Mecca! Yet, perchance, he
may claim that he comes, though late, as no unworthy votary.
A Passionate Pilgrim, shall we say? Believe me, it is in the light of a
pilgrimage that I regard this--er--jaunt. Shall we dedicate it to
youth, and name it Childe Arthur's Pilgrimage?"

By this time smoke was issuing in a steady stream from the stove-pipe
above the cabin-top, and presently from within came the hiss and
fragrance of bacon frying. Sam Bossom had stepped ashore, and called to
the children to help in collecting sticks and build a fire for the
tea-kettle. Tilda, used though she was to nomad life, had never known
so delightful a picnic. Only her eyes wandered back apprehensively, now
and then, to the smoke of the great town. As for Arthur Miles--Childe
Arthur, as Mr. Mortimer henceforth insisted on their calling him--he had
apparently cast away all dread of pursuit. Once, inhaling the smell of
the wood fire, he even laughed aloud--a strange laugh, and at its close
uncannily like a sob. Tilda, watching him quietly, observed that he
trembled too--trembled all over--from time to time. She observed, too,
that this happened when he looked up from the fire and the kettle; but
also that in looking up he never once looked back, that his eyes always
wandered along the still waterway and to the horizon ahead.
This puzzled her completely.

Breakfast followed, and was delightful, though not unaccompanied by
terrors. A barge hove in sight, wending downwards from Bursfield, and
the children hid. It passed them, and after ten minutes came a couple
from the same direction, with two horses hauling at the first, and the
second (which Sam called a butty-boat) towed astern. Each boat had a
steersman, and the steersman called to Sam and asked for news of his
young woman; whereupon Sam called back, offering to punch their heads
for twopence. But it was all very good-natured. They passed on
laughing, and the children re-emerged. The sun shone; the smoke of the
embers floated against it, across the boat, on the gentlest of breezes;
the food was coarse, but they were hungry; the water motionless, but Mr.
Mortimer's talk seemed to put a current into it, calling them southward
and to high adventures--southward where no smoke was, and the swallows
skimmed over the scented water-meads. Even the gaudil