'Pull away, then, chicken-heart,' jeered his more brutal comrade. 'After all, the stuff's safely stowed away. There's no need to go back to the old barky.'
The boat was steadily driven inshore, and at the stern Chippy swam his hardest to take his weight off the painter and keep his head under cover. 'I got to look out,' said the cool scout to himself, 'or I'll get that boathook on my nut yet.'
But once more fortune favoured the brave, and the boat slid into the deep shadow of the old landing-stage, and Chippy was still undiscovered. No sooner did they enter the friendly dusk than Chippy released the painter, and let himself float without movement. The boat pulled on a dozen yards to the stairs, and the scout swam gently to the shelter of a great pile. Chippy now heard the rower fling down the oars and spring out of the boat, and rush up to the stage above.
The second man poured a stream of jeers after his less resolute comrade, then sat down, took the oars, turned the boat, and pulled away down the creek, evidently bent on restoring the craft to its proper anchorage.
The boat shot away and disappeared round the end of the stage, and Chippy struck out for the stairs and crawled to land. He was by this time pretty exhausted, and he sat for a few minutes on the lowest step, to rest and draw a few easy breaths, while the water poured from him in streams. As soon as he had recovered a little, he sprang up the steps, and hurried homewards on his bare feet; for his boots were at the bottom of the river, and he considered himself a very lucky scout to think that he was not there beside them.
CHAPTER XXVI
CHIPPY MAKES HIS REPORT
The next morning Chippy turned up at Elliott Brothers' prompt to time. He had had a big ducking, a rattle on his shoulder, and not much sleep; but he was as hard as nails, and looked none the worse for his adventure. He had also purchased a pair of boots from a pawn-shop in Skinner's Hole. They were not up to much, for one and sevenpence was the total sum the scout could raise; but they covered his feet in some sort of shape, and he could do no more. Mr. Malins set him to work to shake out and tie up a great heap of sacks in the basement, and when Chippy had finished this task he went and took a peep at the clock in the church-tower at the end of the street.
'Mr. Elliott's in by now,' muttered the scout to himself, and he marched straight up to the office of the junior partner, and tapped at the door.