'WHITE LION'--TWO LETTERS--WE DOUBT MR. ROWE'S GOOD FAITH.


The dew was still heavy on the grass when Fred and I crossed the
drying-ground about five o'clock on Thursday morning, and scrambled
through a hedge into our "coastguard" corner on the wharf. We did not
want to be seen by the barge-master till we were too far from home to
be put ashore.

The freshness of early morning in summer has some quality which seems
to go straight to the heart. I felt intensely happy. There lay the
barge, the sun shining on the clean deck, and from the dewy edges of
the old ropes, and from the barge-master's zinc basin and pail put out
to sweeten in the air.

"She won't leave us behind this time!" I cried, turning triumphantly
to Fred.

"Take care of the pie," said Fred.

It was a meat-pie which he had taken from the larder this morning;
but he had told Mrs. Johnson about it in the letter he had left behind
him; and had explained that we took it instead of the breakfast we
should otherwise have eaten. We felt that earth-nuts might not be
forthcoming on the canal banks, or even on the wharf at Nine Elms when
we reached London.

At about a quarter to six Johnson's wharf was quite deserted. The
barge-master was having breakfast ashore, and the second man had gone
to the stable. "We had better hide ourselves now," I said. So we crept