"What now?" I asked. "Toby has lost his character for infallibility."
"He acted according to his lights," said Holmes, lifting him down from the barrel and walking him out of the timber-yard. "If you consider how much creasote is carted about London in one day, it is no great wonder that our trail should have been crossed. It is much used now, especially for the seasoning of wood. Poor Toby is not to blame."

"We must get on the main scent again, I suppose."

"Yes. And, fortunately, we have no distance to go. Evidently what puzzled the dog at the corner of Knight's Place was that there were two different trails running in opposite directions. We took the wrong one. It only remains to follow the other."
There was no difficulty about this. On leading Toby to the place where he had committed his fault, he cast about in a wide circle and finally dashed off in a fresh direction.
"We must take care that he does not now bring us to the place where the creasote-barrel came from," I observed.
"I had thought of that. But you notice that he keeps on the pavement, whereas the barrel ed down the roadway. No, we are on the true scent now."
It tended down towards the river-side, running through Belmont Place and Prince's Street. At the end of Broad Street it ran right down to the water's edge, where there was a small wooden wharf. Toby led us to the very edge of this, and there stood whining, looking out on the dark current beyond.
"We are out of luck," said Holmes. "They have taken to a boat here." Several small punts and skiffs were lying about in the water and on the edge of the wharf. We took Toby round to each in turn, but, though he sniffed earnestly, he made no sign.
Close to the rude landing-stage was a small brick house, with a wooden placard slung out through the second window. "Mordecai Smith" was printed across it in large letters, and, underneath, "Boats to hire by the hour or day." A second inscription above the door informed us that a steam launch was kept,—a statement which was confirmed by a great pile of coke upon the jetty. Sherlock Holmes looked slowly round, and his face assumed an ominous expression.

"This looks bad," said he. "These fellows are sharper than I expected. They seem to have covered their tracks. There has, I fear, been preconcerted management here."

He was approaching the door of the house, when it opened, and a little, curly-headed lad of six came running out, followed by a stoutish, red-faced woman with a large sponge in her hand.

"You come back and be washed, Jack," she shouted. "Come back, you young imp; for if your father comes home and finds you like that, he'll let us hear of it."
"Dear little chap!" said Holmes, strategically. "What a rosy-cheeked young rascal! Now, Jack, is there anything you would like?"
The youth pondered for a moment. "I'd like a shillin'," said he.

"Nothing you would like better?"
"I'd like two shillin' better," the prodigy answered, after some thought.
"Here you are, then! Catch!—A fine child, Mrs. Smith!"
"Lor' bless you, sir, he is that, and forward. He gets a'most too much for me to manage, 'specially when my man is away days at a time."
"Away, is he?" said Holmes, in a disappointed voice. "I am sorry for that, for I wanted to speak to Mr. Smith."

"He's been away since yesterday mornin', sir, and, truth to tell, I am beginnin' to feel frightened about him. But if it was about a boat, sir, maybe I could serve as well."
"I wanted to hire his steam launch."

"Why, bless you, sir, it is in the steam launch that he has gone. That's what puzzles me; for I know there ain't more coals in her than would take her to about Woolwich and back. If he'd been away in the barge I'd ha' thought nothin'; for many a time a job has taken him as far as Gravesend, and then if there was much doin' there he might ha' stayed over. But what good is a steam launch without coals?"
"He might have bought some at a wharf down the river."
"He might, sir, but it weren't his way. Many a time I've heard him call out at the prices they charge for a few odd bags. Besides, I don't like that wooden-legged man, wi' his ugly face and outlandish talk. What did he want always knockin' about here for?"
"A wooden-legged man?" said Holmes, with bland surprise.
"Yes, sir, a brown, monkey-faced chap that's called more'n once for my old man. It was him that roused him up yesternight, and, what's more, my man knew he was comin', for he had steam up in the launch. I tell you straight, sir, I don't feel easy in my mind about it."
"But, my dear Mrs. Smith," said Holmes, shrugging his shoulders, "You are frightening yourself about nothing. How could you possibly tell that it was the wooden-legged man who came in the night? I don't quite understand how you can be so sure."

"His voice, sir. I knew his voice, which is kind o' thick and foggy. He tapped at the winder,—about three it would be. 'Show a leg, matey,' says he: 'time to turn out guard.' My old man woke up Jim,—that's my eldest,—and away they went, without so much as a word to me. I could hear the wooden leg clackin' on the stones."
"And was this wooden-legged man alone?"
"Couldn't say, I am sure, sir. I didn't hear no one else."
"I am sorry, Mrs. Smith, for I wanted a steam launch, and I have heard good reports of the—Let me see, what is her name?"

"The Aurora, sir."
"Ah! She's not that old green launch with a yellow line, very broad in the beam?"
"No, indeed. She's as trim a little thing as any on the river. She's been fresh painted, black with two red streaks."
"Thanks. I hope that you will hear soon from Mr. Smith. I am going down the river; and if I should see anything of the Aurora I shall let him know that you are uneasy. A black funnel, you say?"

Los irregulares de Baker Street

––Y ahora, qu? ––pregunt––. Toby ha perdido su reputacin de infalible.
––Ha actuado segn su entendimiento ––dijo Holmes, cogindolo para bajarlo del barril y sacarlo del almacn––. Si se piensa en la cantidad de creosota que se transporta por Londres cada da, no puede extraar que el rastro se haya cruzado con otro. Ahora se utiliza mucho la creosota, sobre todo para tratar la madera. El pobre Toby no tiene la culpa.
––Supongo que habr que volver al rastro principal.
––S. Por suerte, no tendremos que ir lejos. Est claro que lo que desconcert al perro en la esquina de Knight's Place fue que all haba dos rastros diferentes, que iban en direcciones opuestas. Hemos seguido el que no era, y lo nico que tenemos que hacer ahora es seguir el otro.
No tuvimos ninguna dificultad. En cuanto llevamos a Toby al sitio en el que haba cometido el error, recorri un amplio crculo y por fin sali disparado en una nueva direccin.
––Habr que tener cuidado de que no nos lleve ahora al lugar de donde vino el barril de creosota ––coment.
––Ya haba pensado en ello. Pero fjese en que ahora va por la acera, mientras que el barril iba por la calzada. No, esta vez seguimos la pista buena.
El rastro bajaba hacia la ribera del ro, pasando por Belmont Place y Prince's Street. Al final de Broad Street llegamos hasta la orilla misma, donde haba un pequeo muelle de madera. Toby nos condujo hasta el borde del embarcadero y all se par, gimiendo y mirando la negra corriente de agua que pasaba a sus pies.
––Se nos acab la suerte ––dijo Holmes––. Han tomado una embarcacin.
Amarrados al borde del muelle haba varios pontones y esquifes pequeos. Hicimos que Toby los recorriera de uno en uno pero, por mucho que olfate, no dio ninguna seal.
Cerca del tosco embarcadero haba una casita de ladrillo con un letrero de madera colgado de la ventana del primer piso. En l se lea, pintado en letras grandes, Mordecai Smith, y debajo Se alquilan embarcaciones por horas y por das. Un segundo letrero, encima de la puerta, nos inform de que disponan de una lancha de vapor, informacin que quedaba confirmada por un gran montn de carbn que haba en el muelle. Sherlock Holmes mir lentamente a nuestro alrededor y su rostro adopt una expresin ominosa.
––Esto no me gusta ––dijo––. Estos fulanos son ms listos de lo que yo esperaba. Parece que han borrado su rastro. Me temo que lo tenan todo planeado de antemano.
Se estaba acercando a la puerta de la casa cuando sta se abri y un chiquillo de unos seis aos, con el pelo rizado, sali corriendo de la casa, seguido por una mujer corpulenta y coloradota, que llevaba en la mano una esponja grande.
––Vuelve aqu y deja que te lave, Jack! ––grit la mujer––. Vuelve, diablillo! Como venga tu padre y te vea as, nos vamos a enterar.
––Qu encanto de nio! ––exclam Holmes, estratgicamente––. Qu mejillas tan sonrosadas tiene el granuja! A ver, Jack, quieres alguna cosa?
El nio se lo pens un momento.
––Me gustara un cheln ––dijo.
––No hay algo que te guste ms?
––Me gustaran ms dos chelines ––respondi aquel prodigio, tras pensarlo un poco.
––Pues ah los tienes. Cgelos! Un nio muy guapo, seora Smith.
––Dios le bendiga, seor. Es guapo, pero muy revoltoso. Yo casi no puedo controlarlo, sobre todo cuando mi hombre est fuera varios das seguidos.
––Dice que est fuera? ––pregunt Holmes en tono contrariado––. Pues es una pena, porque quera hablar con el seor Smith.
––Lleva fuera desde ayer por la maana, seor, y la verdad, empiezo a estar preocupada por l. Pero si se trata de alquilar un bote, seor, tal vez yo pueda atenderles. ––Quera alquilar la lancha de vapor.
––Vaya por Dios. Precisamente se march en la de vapor. Eso es lo que me extraa, porque s que con el carbn que llevaba slo tena para ir hasta Woolwich y volver. Si se hubiera llevado la gabarra, no me extraara: ms de una vez ha tenido que ir hasta Gravesend, y si tena mucho trabajo se quedaba all a dormir. Pero de qu le sirve una lancha de vapor sin carbn?
––Puede haber comprado ms en otro muelle, ro abajo.
––Podra hacerlo, pero no es su estilo. Le he odo protestar muchas veces de los precios que cobran por unos pocos sacos. Adems, no me gusta ese hombre de la pata de palo, con esa cara tan fea y ese acento extranjero.
––Un hombre con pata de palo? ––pregunt Holmes, apenas sorprendido. ––S, seor, un to moreno, con cara de mono, que ha venido ms de una vez a ver a mi hombre. La noche anterior lo sac de la cama; y lo que es ms, mi hombre saba que iba a venir, porque le haba dado presin a la lancha de vapor. Se lo digo francamente, seor, no me hace ninguna gracia este asunto.
––Pero, querida seora Smith ––dijo Holmes, encogindose de hombros––, se est usted preocupando por nada. Cmo sabe que fue el hombre de la pata de palo el que vino la otra noche? No entiendo cmo puede estar tan segura.
––Por la voz, seor. Conozco su voz, que es como ronca y desagradable. Llam a la ventana, a eso de las tres, y dijo: Levanta, compaero. Es la hora del cambio de guardia. Mi hombre despert a Jim, que es mi hijo mayor, y all se fueron, sin decirme ni palabra. Y o el ruido de su pata de palo al andar por el empedrado.
––Y vena solo ese hombre de la pata de palo?
––Eso no podra decrselo, la verdad. No o a nadie ms.
––Pues lo lamento, seora Smith, porque necesito una lancha de vapor y me haban dado buenos informes del..., vamos a ver, cmo se llamaba?
––El Aurora, seor.
––Aj! No ser una vieja lancha verde, con una raya amarilla, muy ancha de manga?
––Nada de eso. Es la lancha ms bonita y marinera de todo el ro. Y est recin pintada de negro con dos rayas rojas.
––Gracias. Espero que pronto tenga noticias del seor Smith. Yo voy ro abajo, y si le echo el ojo al Aurora, le har saber que est usted preocupada. Ha dicho que la chimenea es negra?
––No, seor: negra con una franja blanca.
––Ah, s, claro. Eran los costados los que eran negros. Buenos das, seora Smith. Mire, Watson, all hay un barquero con una chalana. La tomaremos para cruzar el ro.
Mientras nos sentbamos en el banco de la chalana, Holmes me explic:
––Con esta clase de gente, lo ms importante es no darles nunca a entender que la informacin que te dan tiene la menor importancia para ti. Si piensan que te interesa, se cierran al instante como una ostra. En cambio, si haces como que los escuchas porque no te queda otro remedio, lo ms probable es que te digan todo lo que quieres saber.