I repeated my question.
"Dunno," he replied, trying to cram half his hand into his mouth. The captain would have thought him very stupid if he had met him as a native in one of the islands of the Pacific, I am sure; but I followed him, and begged him to try and think if he had not heard of people going to London.
At last his face brightened. He was looking over my head down the lane. "There's a man a-cummin yonder's always a-going to Lunnon," said he. Visions of a companion on our tramp—also perhaps in search of adventures—made me look briskly round. "Him with the pipe, as b'longs to the barge," the boy exclaimed.
It was indeed Mr. Rowe come to look for us, and we had to try and seem glad to see him, and to go on board once more.
Towards evening the canal banks became dotted with fishers of all ages and degrees, fishing very patiently, though they did not seem to catch much.
Soon after dark we reached the town of Pyebridge.
When the barge lay-to for the night, and the driver was taking the horse away to the stable, Mr. Rowe confronted us, in his firmest manner, with the question, "And where are you going to sleep, young gentlemen?"
"Where are you going to sleep, Mr. Rowe?" said I, after a thoughtful pause.
"I sleeps below, but the captain's cabin is guv up to no one—unless it be the Queen," replied the barge-master, humorously but decidedly.
"We should like to sleep on deck," said I.