"But a return's ever so much more, squire."
"I'll be sure and pay you when I come back."
The clerk hesitated, but he knew that the young traveller lived at The Pool House, and that his father had gone by the mid-day train, so he said good-humouredly: "Look here; you'd better have a third return; that's two shillings, and you can pay me one, and give me the other to-morrow."
"Yes, please," cried the Skipper eagerly.
"Here she comes too," said the clerk, and he took the first-class ticket, juggled another in the stamping-machine, and dabbed it down through the pigeon-hole.
"Oh, thank you," cried the Skipper, snatching it up, and rushing towards the door.
"Hi! you haven't paid," shouted the clerk, and the boy ran back, with his face scarlet, to place his bright shilling on the little bracket.
"That's your sort," said the clerk; "don't you forget you owe me another." But the Skipper did not hear him, being half-way to the door, and then, ran panting out on to the platform, just as the train glided in.
The porter knew him, clipped his ticket, and he, being the only passenger from the little station, opened the carriage door, gave it a third-class bang, which, as everyone knows, is three times as loud as a first-class bang, and the next minute, with Bob's heart beating hard like the throbbing of the engine, the eventful journey began.
There was only one other passenger in his compartment, and he was asleep, but his presence was quite comforting to Bob, for he was a sailor, who had placed his canvas bag in a corner for a pillow, and was snoring loudly, with his mouth open, and his hat had fallen on the floor.