imself
backwards and with a sudden yap out of Tilda's clutch. Boy and girl
turned, and beheld him rush towards a tall, loose-kneed man, clad in
dirty dungaree, dark-haired and dark-avised with coal-dust, who came
slouching towards the quay's edge.

"Bill! Oh, Bill!" Tilda sprang up with a cry. Perhaps the cry was
drowned in the dog's ecstatic barking. The man--he had obviously been
drinking--paid no attention to either; or, rather, he seemed (since he
could not disregard it) to take the dog's salutation for granted, and
came lurching on, fencing back 'Dolph's affectionate leaps.

"G'way!"

He advanced unsteadily towards the edge of the basin, not perceiving, or
at any rate not recognising the children, though close to them.

"Let my cap be'ind," he grumbled; "elst they stole it."

He drew himself up at the water's edge, a dozen yards or so wide of the
_Severn Belle's_ stern.

"Oh, Bill!" Tilda flung herself before him as he stood swaying.

"'Ullo!" He recognised her slowly. "And wot might _you_ be doin' 'ere?
Come to remember, saw you yesterday--you _and_ your frien'. Yes, o'
course--ver' glad t' meet yer--_an'_ yer friend--any friend o' yours
welcome, 'm sure."

He stretched out a hand of cordiality towards Arthur Miles.

"Oh, Bill--we've been countin' on yer so--me an' 'Dolph. This is Arthur
Miles, an' I've told 'im all along as you're the best and 'elpfullest
o' men--an' so you are, if you pull yerself together. 'E only wants to
get to a place called 'Olmness, w'ich is right below 'ere--"

"'Olmness?"

"It's an Island, somewhere in the Bristol Channel. It--it _can't_ be
far, Bill--an' I got 'arf-a-sufferin'--"

"Where?" asked Bill with unexpected promptness.

"Never you mind, just now."

Bill assumed an air of injured but anxious virtue.

"'Course, if you don't _choose_ to trust me, it's another matter . . .
but I'd like to know you came by it honest."

"Of course she did!" Arthur Miles spoke up to the rescue hotly.

Bill turned a stare on him, but dropped it, somewhat abashed.

"Oh, well, I'm not sayin' . . ." he muttered sulkily, and then with a
change of tone, "But find yer an Island--somewheres in the Bristol
Channel--me! It's ridicklus."

Tilda averted her face, and appeared to study the masts of the shipping.
Her cheek was red and something worked in her throat, but in a few
seconds she answered quite cheerfully--

"Well, the first thing is to pick up a breakfast. If Bill c