It proved to be Fordham, the dean’s servant. He was accidentally passing. The boys did not fear him; nevertheless, it was only prudent to remain still, until he had gone by. They stood, all five, leaning upon the wall, soiling their waistcoats and jackets, in apparent contemplation of the view beyond. A pleasant view! The river wound peacefully between its green banks; meadows and cornfields were stretched out beyond; while an opening afforded a glimpse of that lovely chain of hills, and the white houses nestled at their base. A barge, drawn by a horse, was appearing slowly from underneath the city bridge, blue smoke ascending from its chimney. A woman on board was hanging out linen to dry--a shirt, a pair of stockings, and a handkerchief--her husband’s change for the coming Sunday. A young girl was scraping potatoes beside her; and a man, probably the husband, sat steering, his pipe in his mouth. The boys fixed their eyes upon the boat. “I shouldn’t mind such a life as that fellow’s yonder!” exclaimed young Berkeley, who was fonder of idleness than he was of Latin. “I’ll turn bargeman when other trades fail. It must be rather jolly to sit steering a boat all day, and do nothing but smoke.” “Fordham’s gone, and be hanged to him! Now for it, Galloway!” “Stop a bit,” said Bywater. “They must be wrapped up, or else tied close together. Better wrap them up, and then no matter who sees. They can’t swear there are keys inside. Who has any paper about him?” One of the boys, Hall, had his exercise-book with him. They tore a sheet or two out of it, and folded it round the keys, Hurst producing some string. “I’ll fling them in,” said Bywater. “Make haste, then, or we shall have to wait till the barge has gone by.” Bywater took a cautious look round, saw nobody, and flung the parcel into the middle of the river. “_Rari nantes in gurgite vasto_!” ejaculated he. “Now, you gents, what be you throwing into the river?” The words came from Hudson, the porter to the Boundaries, who appeared to have sprung up from the ground. In reality, he had been standing on the steps leading to the river, but the boat-house had hidden him from their view. He was a very different man from the cloister porter; was afraid of the college boys, rather than otherwise, and addressed them individually as “sir.” The keeper of the boat-house heard this, and came up the steps. “If you gentlemen have been throwing anything into the river you know that it’s against the rules.” “Don’t bother!” returned Hurst, to the keeper. “But you know it _is_ wrong, gentlemen,” remonstrated the keeper. “What was it you threw in? It made a dreadful splash.” “Ah! what was it?” coolly answered Hurst. “What should you say to a dead cat? Hudson, have the goodness to mind _your_ business, unless you would like to get reported for interfering with what does not concern you.”