lf. I'd ha' found twice as
many in the time."

Dexter shivered, and then began to enjoy the warmth of his garments
after as good a wipe as he could manage with a pocket-handkerchief. But
it was the row afterwards that gave the required warmth--a row which was
continued till another farm-house was seen beside a great cider orchard.

Here Dexter had to land with sixpence and the empty bottle.

"I promised to take that there bottle back," said Bob, with a grin, "but
I shan't now. Lookye here. You make 'em give you a good lot of bread
and butter for the sixpence, and if they asks you any questions, you say
we're two gentlemen out for a holiday."

Dexter landed, and went up to the farm-house, through whose open door he
could see a warm fire, and inhale a most appetising odour of cooking
bacon and hot coffee.

A pleasant-faced woman came to the door, and her ways and looks were the
first cheery incidents of Dexter's trip.

"Sixpennyworth of bread and butter, and some milk?" she said. "Yes, of
course."

She prepared a liberal exchange for Dexter's coin, and then after
filling the bottle put the boy's chivalry to the test.

"Why, you look as if you wanted your breakfast," she said. "Have a cup
of warm coffee?"

Dexter's eyes brightened, and he was about to say _yes_. But he said
_no_, for it seemed unfair to live better than his comrade, and just
then the vision of Bob Dimsted looking very jealous and ill-humoured
rose before him.

"I'm in a hurry to get back," he said.

The woman nodded, and Dexter hastened back to the water-side.

"I was just a-going without yer," was his greeting. "What a while
you've been!"

"I was as quick as I could be," said Dexter apologetically.

"No, you weren't, and don't give me none of your sarce," said Bob.
"Kitch holt o' that scull and pull. D'yer hear!"

Dexter obeyed, and they rowed on for about a mile before a suitable
place was found for landing and lighting a fire, when, after a good deal
of ogreish grumbling, consequent upon Bob wanting his breakfast, a
similar meal to that of the previous day was eaten, and they started
once more on their journey down-stream to the sea, and the golden land
which would recompense Dexter, as he told himself, for all this
discomfort, the rough brutality of his companion, and the prickings of
conscience which he felt whenever Coleby occurred to his mind, and the
face of Helen looked reproach into the very depth of his inner
conscio