walked on faster
than ever. In the clearing by the "Four Alls" they came on the young
American. He had packed up his camp furniture, and was busy stowing it
in the canoe.

"Hullo!" he greeted them. "Can't stay for another sitting, if that's
what you're after."

With Tilda in her present mood the boy felt a sudden helplessness.
The world in this half-hour--for the first time since his escape--had
grown unfriendly. His friends were leaving him, averting their faces,
turning away to their own affairs. He stretched out his hands.

"Won't you take us with you?"

Mr. Jessup stared.

"Why, certainly," he answered after a moment. "Hand me the valise,
there, and nip on board. There's plenty of room."

He had turned to Tilda and was addressing her. She obeyed, and handed
the valise automatically. Certainly, and without her help, the world
was going like clockwork this morning.

CHAPTER XVIII.

DOWN AVON.

"_ O, my heart! as white sails shiver,
And crowds are passing, and banks stretch wide,
How hard to follow, with lips that quiver,
That moving speck on the far-off side._"--JEAN INGELOW.

They were afloat: Arthur Miles in the bows, Tilda amidships, and both
facing Mr. Jessup, who had taken the stern seat, and there steered the
canoe easily with a single paddle, as the Indians do.

They shot under the scour of a steep bank covered with thorns and
crab-apple trees and hummocks of sombre grass. Beyond this they drifted
down to Welford Weir and Mill, past a slope where the yellowing
chestnuts all but hid Welford village. They had to run the canoe ashore
here, unlade her of the valises and camp furniture, and carry her across
the weir. The children enjoyed this amazingly.

"Boy, would you like to take a paddle?" asked Mr. Jessup.

Now this was what Arthur Miles had been desiring for twenty minutes
past, and with all his soul. So now, the canoe having been launched
again and Tilda transferred to the bows, he found himself perched
amidships, with his gaze fixed on the reaches ahead, and in his hand a
paddle, which he worked cautiously at first, following Mr. Jessup's
instructions. But confidence soon grew in him, and he began to put more
vigour into his strokes. "Right, sonny," and "Better and better"
commented his instructor, for the child took to it as a duck to water.
In twenty minutes or so he had learnt to turn his paddle slantwise after
the stroke, and to drag it so as to assis