“Ha ha! Don’t be afeerd, t’otherest,” said Riderhood. “The t’other’s got to make way agin the stream, and he takes it easy. You can soon come up with him. But wot’s the good of saying that to you! you know how fur you could have outwalked him betwixt anywheres about where he lost the tide—say Richmond—and this, if you had a mind to it.”
“You think I have been following him?” said Bradley.
“I know you have,” said Riderhood.
“Well! I have, I have,” Bradley admitted. “But,” with another anxious look up the river, “he may land.”
“Easy you! He won’t be lost if he does land,” said Riderhood. “He must leave his boat behind him. He can’t make a bundle or a parcel on it, and carry it ashore with him under his arm.”
“He was speaking to you just now,” said Bradley, kneeling on one knee on the grass beside the lock-keeper. “What did he say?”
“Cheek,” said Riderhood.
“What?”
“Cheek,” repeated Riderhood, with an angry oath; “cheek is what he said. He can’t say nothing but cheek. I’d ha’ liked to plump down aboard of him, neck and crop, with a heavy jump, and sunk him.”
Bradley turned away his haggard face for a few moments, and then said, tearing up a tuft of grass:
“Damn him!”