Rain was still falling, and the cold had increased. The water of the canal was muddy, and the stream that ran along below it was very high.
The tow-path was softer and more slippery than it had been the previous day, and walking upon it was more difficult. The boy who drove the weary and wretched horses through the mud and rain was far more tired and miserable than they were.
Late in the forenoon the boat reached Ellenville.
For more than a mile Captain Bill had apparently been on the lookout for some one. As they passed under the iron bridge and in toward the lock without meeting any one, the captain uttered a sort of grunt of disappointment.
Just then, however, a man came down the tow-path, leading a gray horse.
The man was short and stout, with legs that were so bowed that it was a marvel that they held him up at all. Captain Bill’s face lighted up as he caught sight of him. He leaped from the boat to the tow-path, and went ahead to meet the stranger.
“Well, Callipers,” he inquired, “got a hoss for me?”
“You bet,” replied the man, “an’ a powerful good un, too.”
Captain Bill went close to the bow-legged man, bent down to him, and said something in an undertone. The man listened and nodded.
Then followed a conversation which no one could hear, except the persons engaged in it. It ended with Captain Bill’s counting out some money from a black and greasy leather wallet, and handing the money to Callipers.