“We don’t call it the river, we call it the canal here. It’s river farther up towards London.”
“Are you going to London?” I said.
“Yes. Are you?”
“Yes,” I said; and my heart was at rest, for I knew now that which I wanted to find out without asking. This river did go right to London, and I must be on the upper part of the Thames.
We went on for some little time in silence, and then my new friend began:
“Why don’t you go and paddle yer feet in the water a bit?”
It was a good suggestion, and the shallow sparkling water looked very delicious and cool.
“Tie your shoestrings together and hing ’em on to Tommy’s collar. You can hing yer bundle, too, if yer li-ak.”
I hesitated for a moment. One boy had already appropriated my bundle, but he had not the frank honest look of the one on the horse, and besides, I did not like to seem suspicious. So, tying the shoestrings together, I hung them on the tall hame of the collar, and the bundle beside them, before going quickly over the gravel down to the shallow water.
“Turn up yer trousers!” shouted the boy; and I obeyed his good advice, ending by walking along the shallow water close behind the tow-rope, the soft sand feeling delicious to my feet as the cool water laved and eased the smarting wound.