Dexter felt better after this was done, and the jacket-pocket a little bulgy in which his missive was stuffed. He had previously felt a little uneasy about the boat; but though not quite at rest now, he felt better satisfied, and as if this was a duty done.
That same evening, just before it grew dusk, Dexter watched his opportunity, and stole off down the garden, after making sure that he was not watched.
There was no one visible on the other side, and it seemed as if Bob Dimsted was not coming, so after waiting a few minutes Dexter was about to go back to the house, with the intention of visiting his pets, when there was a loud chirping whistle from across the river.
Dexter looked sharply through the gathering gloom; but still no one was visible, and then the chirp came again.
“Are you there, Bob?”
“Why, course I am,” said that young gentleman, rising up from where he had lain flat behind a patch of coarse herbage. “I’m not the sort of chap to stay away when I says I’ll come. Nearly ready!”
“Ye–es,” said Dexter.
“No gammon, you know,” said Bob. “I mean it, so no shirking out.”
“I mean to come too,” said Dexter with a sigh.
“Well, you do sound jolly cheerful; you don’t know what a game it’s going to be.”