“Us has never been in a boat,” she said.

“Come on,” called out Peter, and the young woman with the baby came forward with a smile.

“You must look sharp,” said Peter, in what was meant to be an encouraging tone.  “The morning’s getting on, you know,” he added to Tim, “and if those folk down yonder took it in their heads to come this way it’d be awk’ard.”

“I know,” said Tim, and lifting Duke in his arms he handed him over to Peter, thinking Pamela would be sure to follow.  So she was, for she would have gone after “bruvver” down the crater of Vesuvius itself I do believe, but she looked white and trembled, and whispered piteously,

“I am so frightened, Tim.”

“But it’s better than if Mick had cotched us, and you’d had to go to that Signor man, missy,” said Tim encouragingly.

This appealed to Pamela’s common sense, and in a few minutes she seemed quite happy.  For Peter’s wife introduced her to the baby, and as it was really rather a nice baby—­much cleaner than one could have expected to find one of its species on a canal boat—­the little girl soon found it a most interesting object of study.  She had seldom seen little babies, and her pride was great when its mother proposed to her to hold it on her own knee, and even allowed her to pull off its socks to count for herself its ten little round rosy buttons of toes.  The toes proved too much for Duke, who had hitherto stood rather apart, considering himself, as a boy, beyond the attractions of dolls and babies.  But when Tim even—­great grown-up, twelve years old Tim—­knelt down to admire the tiny feet at Pamela’s call, Duke condescended to count the toes one by one for himself, and to say what a pity it was Toby was not here—­baby could ride so nicely on Toby’s back, couldn’t she?  This idea, expressed with the greatest gravity, set Peter and his wife off laughing, and all five, or six if baby is to be included, were soon the best friends in the world.

“How nice it is here,” said Pamela; “I’m not frightened now, Tim; only I wish Diana could have come.  It’s so much nicer than in the waggon.  You don’t think Mick will find out where us is, do you, Tim?” and a little shudder passed through her.

“Oh no, no; no fear,” said Tim, but her words reminded him and Peter that they were by no means “out of the wood.”  Peter was far from anxious for a fight with the gipsies, whose lawless ways he knew well; and besides this, being a kind-hearted though rough fellow, he had already begun to feel an interest in the stolen children for their own sake; though no doubt his consent to take them as passengers had been won by the promises of reward Tim had not hesitated to hold out.

He and the boy looked at each other.

“We must be starting,” said the bargeman, and he turned to jump ashore and attach the towing ropes to the patient horse.  “You must keep them in the cabin for a while,” he said to his wife.  “They mustn’t risk being seen till we’re a long way out of Crookford.”