"Will you want me, sir?" he enquired.
"Not to-day, James," I said. "We are only going over to the island. I think we can manage that between us."
He glanced at us both a little doubtfully. "You'll 'ave to row up stream a bit," he announced. "The tide runs very strong 'bout here."
I thanked him for this well-meant information, and, having given him sixpence, took my place at the sculls. With another grin Ross settled himself comfortably in the stern.
"Even the children mistrust us," he observed, as I tugged the boat out into the tideway.
It was not more than a couple of hundred yards across but so rapid was the current that it took us some little while to make the passage. I pulled well up until I was almost opposite the furthest point of the island, and then, getting into comparatively slack water, rowed down under the shelter of the shore. At last we came alongside the landing-stage, where Ross leaned over and grabbed hold of a rusty chain.
"There doesn't seem to be anyone about," he said. "I wonder if the blighter got your wire."
The words had hardly left his lips when there was a sudden rustle amongst the trees, and a huge black shape bounded out into the open. It was a dog, but the biggest dog I have ever seen—an enormous brute that looked like a cross between a great Dane and an old English mastiff.
For a second it stood there, swishing its tail and staring at us out of its bloodshot eyes, then in a menacing fashion it began to advance rapidly up the path.
With undignified haste Ross let go the chain and scrambled back into his seat. Freed from this check, the head of the boat promptly swung round, and the next moment we were drifting broadside on, with several feet of water between us and the shore.