'Ne'er mind,' said the Raven; 'it's wot we could best afford to lose. Soon cut another.'
The boys did not check their pace until they reached a large village a mile or more from the bridge, and then they dropped into their usual scout's stride.
On the other side of the village they came to another bridge, this time spanning a canal.
'Here we are,' said Dick, for the scouts intended to follow the towpath into Newminster: it would save them a mile and a half of dusty high-road.
They went down to the bank and started off along the side of the canal. It was not a dirty piece of water, malodorous and unsightly, as canals are in manufacturing centres: it was like a straight stretch of a clear, beautiful river. There was a towpath only on the one side. The other was a grassy border, where sedges and bulrushes grew, and cows came down from the meadows to drink.
The scouts had barely gone half a mile when they came upon a barge lying beside the bank. They glanced into its cabin as they went by, and saw that a tiny fire was burning brightly in its stove, and that it was a very trim, smart little place. But there was no bargeman, no horse, no one; the barge seemed deserted. The boys went on, and soon heard cries of anger and distress coming down the breeze. They broke into the scouts' trot, turned a bend, and saw a stout lady pursuing a white horse.
Chippy knew all about canals.
'Broke 'is tow-line, an' now he's 'ookin' it,' observed the Raven. 'Come on—scout's job 'ere.'
The old white horse was not hooking it very fast. There was no need that he should. The stout lady jogged a few steps, then settled into a walk. The old horse cropped the grass beside the water till she was close at his heels, then he jogged off a little and settled down to grazing again. But the active scouts soon settled his hash. They passed the stout lady at full speed, and ran down the old nag within fifty yards. Then Dick led him back to the barge-woman, who was mopping a hot red face with a big red handkerchief.
'Well, I'm more'n a bit obliged to yer,' she panted, 'an' thank ye kindly. The line parted, and I thought I never should ketch that dratted ole creetur. Ah, ye good-for-nuthin',' she cried to the horse, who now held down his nose and looked meekness itself, 'an' the good missis I am to ye. Allus plenty to eat, and no whippin'.'