next lock—Wallingford—and five on from there to Cleeve.
"Oh, it's all right!" I said. "We'll be through the next lock before seven, and then there is only one more;" and I settled down and pulled steadily away.
We passed the bridge, and soon after that I asked if she saw the lock. She said no, she did not see any lock; and I said, "Oh!" and pulled on. Another five minutes went by, and then I asked her to look again.
"No," she said; "I can't see any signs of a lock."
"You—you are sure you know a lock, when you do see one?" I asked hesitatingly, not wishing to offend her.
The question did offend her, however, and she suggested that I had better look for myself; so I laid down the sculls, and took a view. The river stretched out straight before us in the twilight for about a mile; not a ghost of a lock was to be seen.
"You don't think we have lost our way, do you?" asked my companion.
I did not see how that was possible; though, as I suggested, we might have somehow got into the weir stream, and be making for the falls.
