nvas now'--and she nodded
forward--'that's the sort o' load for us. Queer thing the ole horse
broke loose this arternoon when I'm by myself, which don't often
happen. My man he's gone on to Newminster, an' there we'll stop
to-night.' Then she gave her attention to steering the barge round a
bend, while the old horse plodded along the bank as meekly as if
thoughts of running away could never enter his head.

In a quiet bend of the waterway the bargewoman roared 'Wo!' and the
white horse pulled up at once and whickered.

'Time for 'is nosebag,' she said, 'an' 'e knows it very well. An'
we'll have a cup o' tea. I allus pull up for that, an' tek' it quiet
an' comfortable, wi'out havin' to bother about steerin'.'

She fished out a tin bucket already filled with chaff, and proceeded to
climb ashore and hang it round the horse's head.

'Tea for three,' murmured the Raven. 'More grub;' and Dick smiled.

The meal was a very cheerful little affair. The scouts sat on the roof
of the cabin in the sunshine, with their cups beside them, and their
hostess spread butter liberally on the slices of a large cottage loaf,
and encouraged them to eat heartily, and set them a first-rate example
herself.

Over the teacups they chatted freely, and the boys explained their
movements. Among other things, they narrated their adventure of a few
hours ago with the tramps, and the bargewoman was very indignant.

'Lazy good-for-nothin' varmin--that's what I call them tramps!' she
cried. 'I know what I'd do wi' 'em. I'd take ivery man-jack of 'em by
the scruff o' his neck, an' set him at a job, that I would, as sure as
my name's Hester Slade. An' I'd say to him: "When that's done ye'll
get sommat to eat, an' not afore." That's wot I'd say. "Work or
starve!"' And Mrs. Slade waved the bread-knife above her head, as if
it were a sword flourished in defiance of the whole army of tramps in
general.

CHAPTER XXXVII

AT NEWMINSTER

'We come off pretty well,' said Chippy--'lost naught but my stick.'

'I'll show you where to out another afore we get to Newminster,' said
Mrs. Slade--'a place where my man often cuts a stick. 'Tis a
plantation of ashes on a bank lookin' to the north. Heavy, holdin'
ground, too--just the spot for slow-growin' tough timber.'

She went to the towpath once more to unstrap the tin bucket from the
horse's head, and set him to his task again.

'I fancy we shall have to stay somewhere in Newminster to