I was hoping the cold shiver running down my back was due to what the
barge-master called "the damps from the water"--when a wail like the
cry of a hurt child made my skin stiffen into goose-prickles. A wilder
moan succeeded, and then one of the windows of one of the dark houses
was opened, and something thrown out which fell heavily down. Mr. Rowe
was just coming on board again, and I found courage in the emergency
to gasp out, "What was that?"
"Wot's wot?" said Mr. Rowe testily.
"That noise and the falling thing."
"Somebody throwing, somethin' at a cat," said the barge-master. "Stand
aside, sir, _if_ you please."
It was a relief, but when at length Mr. Rowe came up to me with his
cap off, in the act of taking out his handkerchief, and said, "I
suppose you're no richer than you was yesterday, young gentlemen--how
about a bed?"--I said, "No--o. That is, I mean if you can get us a
cheap one in a safe--I mean a respectable place."
"If you leaves a comfortable 'ome, sir," moralized the barge-master,
"to go a-looking for adventures in this fashion, you must put up with
rough quarters, and wot you can get."
"We'll go anywhere you think right, Mr. Rowe," said I diplomatically.
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