The scouts stowed their haversacks and staves away in the cabin of the barge, shut it up, and locked it with the key which Mrs. Slade had lent to them, and left the key at the wharfinger's house. Then they put on their jackets and went for a stroll round the streets of the quaint old city. The long summer evening was dying as they stood below the fine west front of the cathedral, and watched the swallows skimming about the noble towers. Near at hand was a post-office, where Dick triumphantly scribbled, 'At Newminster. All well,' on a card, and dropped it into the letter-box.
'Supper and turn in now, Chippy,' he said,
'Righto,' murmured the Raven. 'We must be off early to-morrow. Road home 'ull work out three or four mile more'n the road 'ere.'
'That's a fact,' said Dick; 'but we'll turn up at Bardon by Saturday night without setting foot in a train yet. Now, Chippy, what shall we have for supper? We've got jolly good lodgings for nothing: we can afford something extra for supper.'
They were going down the street which would lead them back to the wharf, and the Raven paused in front of a butcher's shop.
'Can we sport a pound o' sausages?' he said. 'They'd mek' a good feed to-night, and we'd have one or two left for brekfast again.'
'Good,' said Dick, and they laid down eightpence for a pound of sausages, and threepence for a small loaf, and returned to the barge. Here they fried their sausages and made some tea, for the fire in the stove was not out, and the good-natured bargewoman had left them a small bucketful of coke to make it up again.
After supper they carefully put out the fire, and turned in on the two bunks which lay one on either side of the little cabin. Here, wrapped in their blankets, they slept like tops till five o'clock in the morning.
Chippy was the first to wake, and he got up and thrust his head out at the hatch. His movements aroused his comrade, and Dick sprang to the floor.
'Lucky we've been in 'ere,' said Chippy. 'It's been pourin' o' rain in the night.'