"Oh, 'ave you, indeed?" said the man. "We'll soon see about that." And he came across his deck and began to climb down the side of his barge.
"Oh, come away, Peter, come away!" said Bobbie and Phyllis, in agonized unison.
"Not me," said Peter, "but you'd better."
The girls climbed to the top of the bank and stood ready to bolt for home as soon as they saw their brother out of danger. The way home lay all down hill. They knew that they all ran well. The Bargee did not look as if he did. He was red-faced, heavy, and beefy.
But as soon as his foot was on the towing-path the children saw that they had misjudged him.
He made one spring up the bank, and caught Peter by the leg, dragged him down—set him on his feet with a shake—took him by the ear—and said sternly:—
"Now, then, what do you mean by it? Don't you know these 'ere waters is preserved? You ain't no right catching fish 'ere—not to say nothing of your precious cheek."
Peter was always proud afterwards when he remembered that, with the Bargee's furious fingers tightening on his ear, the Bargee's crimson coun-
