ire!"

Whether Mr. Rowe, the barge-master, had learnt presence of mind out of
a book, I do not know; but before Fred and I could even think of what
to do in the emergency, my jacket was off, the matches were
overboard, and Mr. Rowe was squeezing the smouldering fire out of my
pocket, rather more deliberately than most men brush their hats. Then,
after civilly holding the jacket for me to put it on again, he took
off his hat, took his handkerchief out of it, and wiped his head, and
replacing both, with his eyes upon us, said, more deliberately still,
"Well, young gentlemen, this is a nice start!"

It was impossible to resist the feeling of confidence inspired by Mr.
Rowe's manner, his shrewd and stolid appearance, and his promptness in
an emergency. Besides, we were completely at his mercy. We appealed to
it, and told him our plans. We offered him a share of the pie too,
which he accepted with conscious condescension. When the dish was
empty he brought his handkerchief into use once more, and then said,
in a peculiarly oracular manner, "You just look to me, young
gentlemen, and I'll put you in the way of every think."

The immediate advantage we took of this offer was to ask about
whatever interested us in the landscape constantly passing before our
eyes, or the barge-furniture at our feet. The cord-compressed balls
were shore-fenders, said Mr. Rowe, and were popped over the side when
the barge was likely to grate against the shore, or against another
vessel.

"Them's osier-beds. They cuts 'em every year or so for basket-work.
Wot's that little bird a-hanging head downwards? It's a titmouse
looking for insects, that is. There's scores on 'em in the osier-beds.
Aye, aye, the yellow lilies is pretty enough, but there's a lake the
other way--a mile or two beyond your father's, Master Fred--where
there's white water-lilies. They're pretty, if you like! It's a rum
thing in spring," continued Mr. Rowe, between puffs of his pipe, "to
see them lilies come up from the bottom of the canal; the leaves
packed as neat as any parcel, and when they git to the top, they turns
down and spreads out on the water as flat as you could spread a cloth
upon a table."

As a rule, Mr. Rowe could give us no names for the aquatic plants at
which we clutched as we went by, nor for the shells we got out of the
mud; but his eye for a water-rat was like a terrier's. It was the only
thing which seemed to excite him.

About mid-day we stopped by