we could not escape
until they had floated out into the canal, and, meanwhile, there might
be a little private tragedy in high life on board "Mascotte."

But a Dutchman's lighter is as sacred, Alb has explained to us all, as a
Dutchman's house; and when the loud, explosive Scotsman arrived on the
gunwale, uninvited and breathing fire, the lighter's owner proceeded
also to breathe fire. He swore; his Kees dog yapped; his children cried
and his wife vituperated. An understudy took the helm, and before Sir
Alec could jump across to another barge, in his pursuit of us, he found
himself engaged in an encounter with the skipper of his first choice.

The one could speak no English, the other could speak no Dutch; and in
his fury at seeing us slip out through the gates behind the two great
barges, he could do nothing but stammer with rage, and try to push past
the stout form which strove to detain him for argument.

Naturally, the push made matters worse. Sir Alec does not know Dutchmen,
especially lightermen, as well as I have learned to do, or he would have
refrained from that extreme--and on the man's own barge. His push was
given back with interest, and the last we saw of him, as other boats
surged round the scene of the contest, was in a gallant attempt to make
a twelve-foot jump, while a stout Dutch skipper and a stout Dutch
skipper's stout Dutch wife held on to his coat-tails.

Again I drew a full breath of relief, and I saw by Alb's face that he,
too, hoped for the best, for--whatever his private feelings might be--he
is too good a sportsman not to feel the spirit of a race.

We were out of the lock, our propeller churning the water, but--again
there was a "but." Alb made a dash for freedom by trying to glide
between the two immense barges which, alone of all the late denizens of
the lock, had refused to give us precedence. But his gracious ways had
not softened the hearts of these skippers, nor did they care for his
Club flag. All they did care for was to keep one another from getting
ahead.

Evidently they were old enemies, and this was not the first time that
they had engaged in deadly duel. Ancient scores had to be paid, and a
fig for those who came after!

Each glared at the other. Each tried to push his big craft ahead. Crash!
They stuck, and jammed, the man at the right, the man at the left,
pushing with all his force with a giant pole, each push locking both
barges the tighter.

We were on their heels,