"The fellow who draws the short piece is to be ship-keeper," explained Mr. Grant. "Now, Symington, Talbot, Hopcroft, Carline, Phillips, Wilson."
As each lad's name was called he drew out one of the rope-yarns. Some chose theirs boldly, others hesitated, making several feints before taking the plunge, especially as the number of rope-yarns diminished without the short end coming to light.
"Now, Craddock."
Peter Craddock gave a swift glance at his comrade in the final—Patrol-leader Brandon.
"Take the one on your left," suggested Brandon.
But Peter chose the other; it was the short end.
"Hard lines, partner!" exclaimed Brandon.
True to his principles Peter Craddock kept smiling, though it was with envious eyes that he saw his chums "smartening-up" for their visit to the Lydiard Scouts' camp.
"Cheerio, Peter," was Scoutmaster Grant's parting greeting. "We'll be back about ten—half-past ten at the latest. Don't forget the riding-lamp."
The Sea Scouts jumped ashore. Craddock watched them along the quay and over the swing-bridge until they disappeared round the corner of the Custom House. Then he settled down to his seven hours' "trick."