Leaving Hibbert on the towing-path, the two boys got on the raft, and proceeded to untie it from the stake to which it was attached. This did not take them long, and, having secured a punting-pole, they soon brought the raft to where Hibbert was awaiting them.
"I'd—I'd rather not go," said the boy hesitating.
"Don't talk rubbish. Get on. You don't mean to say you funk it?"
To tell the truth, Hibbert did "funk it," though there seemed so little to fear; but he was, as we know, a nervous, timid boy. None the less, he always tried to disguise his feelings even to himself.
"Funk—not a bit; but—but I'm never much help, and—and I thought I might be in the way. It's a jolly raft, isn't he!" he said, as he stepped on.
"Jolly."
Plunger pushed off and they went slowly down the river in the direction of the plantation.
"It's smooth enough here, but what must it be like on the sea, eh?" asked Plunger, after an interval of silence.
"Without any food or water and no sign of a sail."
"Yes, famishing with hunger and casting lots which shall die," added Plunger cheerfully, glaring at Hibbert, as though he contemplated him for a victim. Hibbert, pale before, turned to an ashen hue. "Why, what's the matter, Camel? Don't you feel well? Seasick?"