Suddenly Mr. Armitage, who had been consulting charts, navigation books, and tide tables, made an unexpected declaration. "The wind's light and the glass steady," he observed. "I think it's a pity not to take advantage of the favourable weather conditions; so it would be advisable to make a start this evening. To my mind it is better to arrive off a strange coast soon after daybreak than just before sunset. It gives one a better chance of getting into harbour, especially as the mornings at this time of the year are generally calm. The wind, if you notice, usually pipes up about noon." This announcement was greeted with cheers. "And so," continued the Scoutmaster, "you had all better cut off to your respective homes and tell your parents of the alteration of plans. Don't forget to leave Bruin behind, Peter." "Ay, ay, sir," replied the Patrol Leader. Then, after a pause, he added, "There's one other matter I'd like to mention, sir, and we all hope you'll have no objection. I've been talking about it to the other fellows, and they are all keen about it." "Fire away, then," said Mr. Armitage encouragingly. "It's about old Boldrigg, sir," explained Stratton. "You know he's got a son buried out in France. He'd be awfully grateful if we'd give him a passage across and back." "That will be a very practical good turn," agreed Mr. Armitage. "Right-o; call at his cottage on your way up, and tell him to be ready and on the quay at 4 p.m. He'll have to bring his own bedding and messtraps, but we've plenty of grub, tell him." Joyfully the Sea Scouts rowed ashore, with Bruin between the Scoutmaster and the Patrol Leader in the stern-sheets. Bruin was the only member of the party who displayed no enthusiasm. He seemed to know that, as far as he was concerned, there was "nothin' doin'"; but a close observer would have noticed a wrinkling of the hairy brows, and a pensive look in the animal's eyes, as he pondered the possibility of getting himself included in the ship's complement for the forthcoming trip. Having told Mr. Boldrigg the joyful news that he could accompany the Sea Scouts across Channel, the lads dispersed to their several homes. Profiting by previous experience, Peter did not lock his pet in his bedroom. Bruin was placed in a large shed that served as a workshop at the end of the garden, Mr. Stratton promising not to let the animal out until an hour after the _Olivette_ had slipped her moorings. "That's right, old boy," said Peter, patting his pet's head. "Stop there a bit, and be a good little dog." Bruin looked up at his master's face and gave a piteous howl. "Yes, I know," continued Peter. "It's rough luck, old boy, very. You know I'd like to take you, but it's impossible." Well to time, the crew of the _Olivette_ assembled on the shore. With them was old Tom Boldrigg, clad in canvas trousers and jumper, and a blue pilot-coat over his arm.