Then Dick marched resolutely up to the bows, over a thwart in which the anchor rope was hitched in a loop.
"Tom White must have been drunk when he anchored this boat," said Dick.
"She'll never hold if the wind gets up." "Good job, too," said Heathcote.
"So I think," said Dick, thoughtfully.

"I say, Georgie," added he, with his fingers playing on the end of the loop, "Tom White's a frightful cad, isn't he ?" "Rather!" "And a thief, too ?" "I should think so." "It would serve him jolly well right if he lost his boat." "He don't deserve to have a boat at all." "This knot," said Dick, slipping the loop, "wouldn't hold against a single lurch.

Why, it comes undone in a fellow's hand--" And the end dropped idly on the floor of the boat as he spoke.
Heathcote nodded.
"Think of the cad having robbed two juniors like us, and collared mother's photograph, too, the brute!" said Dick, taking his friend's arm and walking on.
They talked no longer of Thomas White, but admired the moonlight, and wondered how soon the tide would be up, and speculated as to whether there wasn't a breeze getting up off the land.

Once they turned back, and glanced at the black hull, lying, still aground, with the tide yards away yet.

Then they thought a trot would warm them up before they put on their boots, and mounted the cliff to Templeton.
The clock struck half-past eleven as they knocked modestly at the porter's lodge.