better not try Tilbury, or we may run into Latimer; it
would put the hat on everything if he saw us together."

Tommy consulted his watch. "It's just half-past three now," he said.
"I vote we run across to Gravesend and catch the train there. Old
Whiskers can bring the boat back here after we've gone--if he's still
sober."

"Of course he's sober," said Joyce; "look at the beautiful way he's
walking."

I should hardly have applied quite such a complimentary adjective to
Mr. Gow's gait myself, but all the same Joyce's diagnosis proved to
be quite correct. Mr. Gow was sober--most undoubtedly and creditably
sober. I rowed to the bank, and brought him on board, and when we told
him of our plans he expressed himself as being perfectly competent to
manage the return journey single-handed.

"You leave 'er to me," he remarked consolingly. "I shan't want no
help--not to bring 'er in here. Some people don't hold with being
alone in a boat, but that ain't Luke Gow's way."

He went forward to get up the anchor, while Tommy and I occupied
ourselves with the exciting sport of trying to start the engine. It
went off at last with its usual vicious kick, and a few minutes later
we were throbbing our way out of the creek into the main river.

The tide was right at its highest, and down the centre of the fairway
straggled a long procession of big hooting steamers, sluggish
brown-sailed barges, and small heavily-burdened tugs, puffing out
their usual trails of black smoke. One felt rather like a terrier
trying to cross Piccadilly, but by waiting for our chance we dodged
through without disaster, and pulled up in a comparatively tranquil
spot off the Gravesend landing-stage.

Tommy signalled to one of the boatmen who were hanging about the steps
waiting for stray passengers.

"This chap will take us off," he said, turning to Mr. Gow. "You push
straight back while the engine's running; she usually stops when we've
got about as far as this."

"And I'll come over to the creek some time tomorrow," I added; though
in my present circumstances a confident prophecy of any kind seemed a
trifle rash.

We went ashore and stood for a moment on the stage watching the
_Betty_ thread her course back through the traffic. Mr. Gow seemed
to handle her with perfect confidence, and relieved on this point we
turned round and set off for the station.

We found ourselves in luck's way. An unusually obliging train was due
to start in ten minutes' tim