The Smiling Jane came crawling along the canal towards Engleton, gradually slowed, then stopped altogether as she hove abreast of the wharf. It was thick with people standing about in twos and threes awaiting the arrival of the boat. The bargeman jumped ashore, strutted hither and thither, chatting with this one and that, discussing the weather, retailing the latest gossip from Barchester, when, from behind the pile of miscellaneous stuff collected on the wharf waiting transit by the Smiling Jane, three small figures appeared suddenly, as if they had sprung from the water beneath the planks. It was Bambo with his little charges.
"Well, well!" exclaimed bargee, staring at the trio in open-mouthed astonishment.
"Did ee ever!" cried a woman who was mounting guard over some hampers of quacking ducks and cackling hens.
"The pretty dears!" ejaculated another; "eh, the sweet crayters! But just look at him! See his big, ugly head, an' the arms o' him like the flappers o' a win'mill! Save us all!" she piously added, gazing her fill at the dwarf and the children, whose winsome faces and uncommon appearance could not be concealed under a few days' smudges, nor disguised beneath a cotton frock or faded velveteen suit.
Darby, who was to be spokesman for the party, here approached the bargeman with frank, courteous manner; while the dwarf hung timidly in the rear, still keeping Joan well within the shelter of his arm.
"Please, Mr. Bargee, will you take us in your boat as far as Firdale?" begged the boy, in gentle, winning tones. "We've come a long way, and Mr. Bambo here," pointing to the dwarf, "has such a bad cold that he's not able to walk any further. Do say 'yes;' won't you, Mr. Bargee?"
For an instant the young fellow hesitated, looking from the boy to the dwarf and the golden-haired girl. Then he shook his head decisively.
"Can't do it, little un," he said kindly. "It's agin the rules, an' I durstn't break them. I was near gettin' the sack not long ago because a couple o' tramps or play-actor folks over-persuaded me to give them a lift. The perlice was on their track. Reg'lar sharpers they was. That was only two or three days back, when them kids belongin' to Dene o' Firgrove disappeared," explained bargee to the gaping loungers hanging about the wharf.
"But we're Dene's kids! we come from Firgrove! Father—Captain Dene, you know—left us there with Aunt Catharine and Auntie Alice when he went to Africa," cried Darby, in eager, rapid snatches of speech.
"Likely!" laughed bargee good-humouredly. "Tell that to the marines, chappie. Maybe they'll b'lieve you, for Will Spiers don't. He's not sich a green un as to be took in by a tale like that. Dene's kids was drownded in the canal. Their clo'es or boots or somethin' was found the other evenin'. Leastways, so I heerd," he added, with a look round the company, as if challenging confirmation of his words.