solutely nothing to conceal; but it was a fine day, and Henry,
who disliked extremely the task of assisting to work out the cargo,
obtained permission to go ashore to purchase a few small things for the
cook and look round.

He strolled along blithely, casting a glance over his shoulders at the
dusty cloud which hung over the _Seamew_ as he went. It was virgin soil
to him, and he thirsted for adventure.

The town contained but few objects of interest. Before the advent of
railways it had been a thriving port with a considerable trade; now its
streets were sleepy and its wharves deserted. Besides the _Seamew_ the
only other craft in the river was a tiny sloop, the cargo of which two
men were unloading by means of a basket and pulley and a hand truck.

The quietude told upon Henry, who, after a modest half-pint, lit his
pipe and sauntered along the narrow High Street with his hands in his
pockets. A short walk brought him to the white hurdles of the desolate
market-place. Here the town as a town ended and gave place to a few
large houses standing in their own grounds.

"Well, give me London," said Henry to himself as he paused at a high
brick wall and looked at the fruit trees beyond. "Why, the place seems
dead!"

He scrambled up on to the wall, and, perched on the top, whistled
softly. The grown-up flavor of half-pints had not entirely eradicated
a youthful partiality for apples. He was hidden from the house by the
trees, and almost involuntarily he dropped down on the other side of the
wall and began to fill his pockets with the fruit.

Things were so quiet that he became venturesome, and, imitating the
stealthy movement of the Red Indian, whom he loved, so far as six
or seven pounds of apples would allow him, made his way to a large
summer-house and peeped in. It was empty, except for a table and a
couple of rough benches, and after another careful look round, he
entered, and seating himself on the bench, tried an apple.

He was roused to a sense of the danger of his position by footsteps on
the path outside, which, coming nearer and nearer, were evidently aimed
at the summer-house. With a silence and celerity of which any brave
would have been proud, he got under the table.

"There you are, you naughty little girl," said a woman's voice. "You
will not come out until you know your rivers perfectly."

Somebody was pushed into the summer-house, the door slammed behind,
and a key turned in the lock. The footstep