"I don't know, sir," replied the perplexed youth. "The river seems to stop here. There's no lock and no way out."
Too late the Scoutmaster remembered that there was such a thing as Culham Cut, one of those artificial waterways that avoid a long detour of the tortuous stream. This one had been missed, and the Olivette's progress was stopped by the weir of Sutton Courtney.
By dint of much manoeuvring the boat was turned, and finally got on her proper course through the Cut—by a channel so narrow and with such high, steep banks that, from the wheel-house, it seemed as if the Olivette's sides were scraping the embankments.
Beyond Day's Lock two delays occurred. Once the boat had to be stopped in order to retrieve Mr. Murgatroyd's hat, which was deftly recovered by Hepburn by means of a boat-hook. The second stop involved a complicated manoeuvre, because an inexperienced punter, underrating the tenacious quality of the mud on the bottom of the river, was left hanging on to the gradually-tilting pole, while his punt glided sweetly down stream. By the time the Olivette, which displayed her unhandiness more than ever when going astern, had rescued the dripping and thoroughly-scared man and taken the punt in tow, thirty-five minutes had elapsed.
"Far enough for to-day, I think," suggested Mr. Murgatroyd, after the Olivette had successfully passed through a fleet of "small fry"—canoes, skiffs, and punts—in the neighbourhood of Wallingford. "Of course, if you are keen on going farther, Mr. Armitage, do so. You're skipper. But there is a decent little hotel in Wallingford which I have been to before."
"Right-o; we'll bring up here," agreed the Scoutmaster. "Twenty-one miles in eight hours isn't exactly exceeding the speed limit."
"It's been enjoyable," continued the owner of the Olivette, as she was berthed alongside a stage. As he prepared to step ashore he added: "And, by the by, there's a sort of tuck-box for the crew. They've got to get outside the contents of that hamper before we reach Teddington."