s went for a
sailor.'

After a time he returned to the garden to smoke his pipe, and Chippy
looked after him through the window.

'He seems a smart un!' remarked the boy.

'Ay, that Lunnon do mek 'em lively!' replied Mrs. Ryder. 'He's the
best o' comp'ny--a very nice young man, I'm sure! He's no trouble at
all--blacks his own boots, an' looks arter hisself all ways! I worn't
willin' at first to let him have my empty room, but I'm glad I did.
The place has done him a power o' good, though he didn't look very ill
time he come down!'

'What's his name?' asked Chippy.

'Albert,' replied the old woman.

'I know that one,' said the boy, 'What's t'other name?'

'I dunno,' returned Mrs. Ryder. 'He told me to call him Albert, and I
niver asked his other name.'

Everything that happens, everyone that appears, must furnish food for
practice for a Boy Scout, and Chippy ran his eye over Albert from head
to foot, and noted every detail of his perfectly commonplace
appearance. Then the boy followed him into the garden, and, true to
the habit which was rapidly becoming an instinct, he dropped a glance
on Albert's track. There was a patch of damp earth near the door, and
the lodger's footprint was plainly stamped on it. At the first swift
look Chippy gathered that there was something slightly different from
usual about the heel-print. He did not look closely, for you must
never let anyone know that either he himself or the trail he leaves, is
being watched; but there was something. Chippy strolled forward, but
no other mark was to be seen; the garden path was hard, clean gravel.

Albert had seated himself on a bench nailed against an elm in the
garden fence, and was smoking calmly in the sunshine. As Chippy drew
near, he turned his head and smiled in a friendly fashion.

'I s'pose you know all the creeks along the river pretty fair?' he
asked.

'Most of 'em,' replied Chippy.

'I've heerd Jem Lacey talk of a place they called Smuggler's Creek,
where the old smugglers used to run their boats in,' went on Albert; 'I
should like to 'ave a look at that. When I was a kid I used to be fair
crazy arter tales of old smugglers an' that sort o' thing.'

'I know it all right,' replied Chippy. 'There ain't no 'ouse nor
anythin' for miles of it.'

'Not nowadays?' cried Albert.

'Yus!' returned Chippy. 'It's just as quiet as it used to be.'

'Could a boat from a ship in the river go up it?' asked Albert.

'Oh, easy!