CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE DRAIN PROGRESSES.
The number of workers increased at the sea-bank, quite a colony growingup, and Dick paid several visits to the place with his father to see howbusily the men were delving, while others built up what was termed a_gowt_--a flood-gate arrangement for keeping out the sea at high water,and opening it at low, so as to give egress to the drain-water collectedfrom the fen-land.
Both lads were eager enough to be there to witness the progress of theworks at first; but after going again and again, they voted the wholething to be uninteresting, and no more worth seeing than the digging ofone of the ditches on the farms at home.
And certainly there was no more difference than in the fact that theditches at home were five or six feet wide, while the one theadventurers were having cut through the fen-land would be forty feet,and proportionately deep.
So the big drain progressed foot by foot, creeping on as it were fromthe sea-shore, an innocent-looking channel that seemed valueless, butwhich would, when finished, rid the land of its stagnant water, and turnthe boggy, peaty soil of the fen into rich pasture and corn-land,whereas its finest produce now was wild-fowl and a harvest of reeds.
"We're getting on, neighbour," said the squire to Farmer Tallington oneevening.
"Ay, but it's slow work," said Tom's father. "It'll be years beforethat lode is cooten."
"Yes, it will be years before it is finished," said the squire,"certainly."
"Then, what's the good of us putting our money in it, eh? It'll do usno good, and be robbing our boys."
"Then why don't you leave off, father?" said Tom stoutly. "DickWinthorpe and I don't want the fen to be drained, and we don't want tobe robbed. Do we, Dick?"
The two elders laughed heartily, and the squire was silent for a fewminutes before he began to speak.
"The drain's right, neighbour," he said gravely. "Perhaps you and Iwill reap no great benefit from it; though, if we live, we shall; butinstead of leaving to our boys, when they take up our work, neighbour,either because we are called away to our rest or because we have grownold, these farms with so much good land and so much watery bog, we shallleave them acre upon acre of good solid land, that has been useless tous, but which will bear them crops and feed their beasts."
"Yes," said Farmer Tallington, "there's something in that, but--"
"Come, neighbour, look ahead. Every foot that drain comes into the fenit will lower the level, and we shall see--and before long--our farmland grow, and the water sink."
"Ye-es; but it's so like working for other people!"
"Well," said the squire laughing, "what have you been doing in that halfacre of close beside your house?"
"That! Oh, only planted it with pear-trees so as to make a bit of anorchard!"
"Are you going to pick a crop of pears next year, neighbour?"
"Next year! Bah! They'll be ten years before they come well intobearing." [This was the case with the old-fashioned grafting.]
"So will the acres laid bare by the draining," said the squire smiling,"and I hope we shall live to see our boys eating the bread made fromcorn grown on that patch of water and reeds, along with the pears fromyour trees."
"That's a clincher," said the farmer. "You've coot the ground fromunder me, neighbour, and I wean't grudge the money any more."
"I wish father wouldn't say _coot_ and _wean't_!" whispered Tom, whoseschool teaching made some of the homely expressions and bits of dialectof the fen-land jar.
"Why not? What does it matter?" said Dick, who was busy twisting thelong hairs from a sorrel nag's tail into a fishing-line.
"Sounds so broad. Remember how the doctor switched Bob Robinson forsaying he'd been _agate_ early."
"Yes, I recollect," said Dick, tying a knot to keep the hairs fromuntwisting; "and father said he ought to have been ashamed of himself,for _agate_ was good old Saxon, and so were all the words our people usedown here in the fen. I say, what are they talking about now?"
"Well, for my part," said the squire rather hotly, in reply to somecommunication his visitor had made, "so long as I feel that I'm doingwhat is right, no threats shall ever stop me from going forward."
"But they seem to think it arn't right," said the farmer. "Those in thefen say it will ruin them."
"Ruin! Nonsense!" cried the squire. "They'll have plenty of good landto grow potatoes, and oats, instead of water, which produces them aprecarious living from wild-fowl and fish, and ruins no end of them withrheumatism and fever."
"Yes, but--"
"But what, man? The fen-men who don't cultivate the soil are very fewcompared to those who do, and the case is this. The fen-land is growingabout here, and good land being swallowed up by the water. Five acresof my farm, which used to be firm and dry, have in my time becomewater-logged and useless. Now, are the few to give way to the many, orthe many to give way to the few?"
"Well, squire, the few think we ought to give way to them."
"Then we will not," said the squire hotly; "and if they don't knowwhat's for their good, they must be taught. You know how they willstick to old things and refuse to see how they can be improved."
"Ay, it's their nature, I suppose. All I want is peace and quietness."
"And you'll have it. Let them threaten. The law is on our side. Theywill not dare."
"I don't know," said Farmer Tallington, scratching his head as theywalked out into the home close. "You see, squire, it wean't be openenemies we shall have to fear--"
"The Winthorpes never feared their enemies since they settled in theseparts in the days of King Alfred," said Dick grandly.
"Hear, hear, Dick!" cried his father, laughing.
"No more did the Tallingtons," said Tom, plucking up, so as not to bebehindhand.
"Nay, Tom, my lad," said the farmer, "Tallingtons was never fightingmen. Well, squire, I thought I'd warn you."
"Of course, of course, neighbour. But look here, whoever sent you thatcowardly bit of scribble thought that because you lived out here in thislonely place you would be easily frightened. Look here," he continued,taking a scrap of dirty paper out of his old pocket-book; "that bit ofrubbish was stuck on one of the tines of a hay-fork, and the shaftdriven into the ground in front of my door. I said nothing about it toyou, but you see I've been threatened too."
He handed the paper to Farmer Tallington, who read it slowly and passedit back.
"Same man writ both, I should say."
"So should I--a rascal!" said the squire. "Here, Dick, don't say a wordto your mother; it may alarm her."
"No, father, I sha'n't say anything; but--"
"But what? Speak out."
"May I read it--and Tom?" he added, for he saw his companion's eagerlooks.
"Well, yes, you've heard what we've been talking about--what neighbourTallington came over for."
"Yes, father," said Dick, taking the piece of paper, and feeling veryserious, since he knew that it contained a threat. But as soon as hegrasped its contents--looking at them as a well-educated lad for hisdays, fresh from the big town grammar-school--he slapped his thigh withone hand, and burst into a roar of laughter, while his father looked onwith a grim smile.
"What is it, Dick?" cried Tom eagerly.
"Here's a game!" cried Dick. "Just look!"
There was not much on the paper, and that was written in a clumsyprinting-letter fashion, beneath a rough sketch, and with another tofinish.
"Why, here's a hollow turnip and two sticks!" cried Dick aloud; "and--and what is it, Tom?"
`stope the dyke or yow hev 2 dighe'
"Stop the dyke or you'll have to dig," said Tom eagerly. "You'll haveto dig! Does he mean dig the ditch?"
"No!" roared Dick; "that's the way he spells die, and that long squarething's meant for a coffin."
"Yes, Dick, and that's the spirit in which to take such a cowardlythreat--laugh at it," said the squire, replacing the letter in hispocket-book. "I only wish I knew who sent it.
Who's this coming?"
"Why, it's Dave!" cried Tom eagerly, as the man came slowly along one ofthe winding lanes of water in his punt.
"Oh, yes, I remember!" said the squire; "he was here yesterday and saidhe would come and fetch you, Dick, if you liked to go, over to thedecoy."
"And you never said a word about it, father! Here, come along, Tom."
The latter glanced at his father, but read consent in his eyes, and thetwo lads dashed off together.
"Seems to be letting him idle a deal," said Farmer Tallingtonthoughtfully.
"Not it," said the squire. "They're both very young and growing. Letthem enjoy themselves and grow strong and hearty. They've had a longturn at school, and all this will do them good."
"Ay, it'll mak 'em grow strong and lusty if it does nowt else," said thefarmer.
"And as to the big drain," said the squire; "we're farmers, neighbour,even if I do work my land as much for pleasure as for profit."
"Ay, but what's that to do with it?"
"This," said the squire, smiling; "a man who puts his hand to the ploughshould not look back."
"That's true," said Farmer Tallington; "but when he gets a letter to saysome one's going to kill him, and draws coffins on the paper, it'senough to mak' him look back."
"It's all stuff, neighbour! Treat it as I do--with contempt."
"Ah! you see you're a gentleman, squire, and a bit of a scholar, and I'monly a plain man."
"A good neighbour and a true Englishman, Tallington; and I'm glad my sonhas so good and frank a companion as your boy. There, take my advice:treat all this opposition with contempt."
"Theer's my hand, squire," said Farmer Tallington. "You nivver gave mea bad bit of advice yet, and I'll stick to what you say--but on onecondition."
"What's that?" said the squire, smiling.
"You'll let me grumble now and then."
Long before Farmer Tallington had parted from the squire at thebeginning of the rough track which led from the Priory to Grimsey, Dickand Tom were down by the water's edge waiting for Dave, who came up witha dry-looking smile upon his face--a smile which looked as if it werethe withered remains of a last year's laugh.
"How are you, Dave?" cried Dick. "We only just knew you were coming.Are there plenty of ducks?"
"Mebbe. Few like," said Dave in the slow way of a man who seldomspeaks.
"_Wuph_! _wuph_!" came from the boat.
"What! Chip, boy! how are you?" cried Dick, patting the dog, whichseemed to go half mad with delight at having someone to make a fuss overhim, and then rushed to Tom to collect a few more friendly pats andwords.
"Shall we get in, Dave?" cried Tom.
"Get in, lad! Why, what for?"
"Now, Dave, don't go on like that," cried Dick impatiently. "Let's geton, there's a good fellow. I do want to see you work the decoy."
"Oh, you don't care for that! 'Sides, I want to go to Hickathrift's tosee his dunky pigs."
"Nonsense! What do you want to see the dunks for?"
"Thinking o' keeping a pig o' my own out thar, lads. It's raytherlonesome at times; and," he added quite seriously, "a pig would becompany."
The boys looked at one another and smothered a laugh for fear of givingoffence.
"What, with a place like a jolly island all to yourself, where you livelike a Robinson Crusoe and can keep tame magpies and anything you like,and your boat, and your dog, and eel-spear?"
"And nets," put in Tom.
"And fishing-lines," said Dick.
"And gun," said Tom.
"Ay, lads," said Dave gravely; "seems aw reight to you, but it belonesome sometimes when the bootherboomps get running out o' the reedsin the dark evenings and then go sailing high up and round and round."
"Oh, I should like that!" said Dick.
"Nay, lad, yow wouldn't. It would scar yow. Then o' soft warm nightssometimes the frogs begins, and they go on crying and piping all roundyou for hours."
"Pooh!" said Tom; "who'd mind a few frogs?"
"And then o' still nights theer's the will o' the wipses going about anddancing over the holes in the bog."
"I say, Dave, what is a will o' the wisp really like?"
"What! heven't you niver seen one, lad?" said Dave, as he seated himselfon the edge of the boat.
"No; you see we've always been away at school. I can remember one ofour men--Diggles it was--pointing out one on a dark night when I wasquite young, and I saw some kind of light, and I was such a littlefellow then that I ran in--frightened."
"Ay, they do frecken folk," said Dave, putting a piece of brown gum inhis mouth; "only you must be careful which way you run or you may goright into the bog and be smothered, and that's what the wills like."
"Like! why, they're only lights," said Tom.
"They'm seem to you like lights, but they be kind o' spirits," said Davesolemnly; "and they wants you to be spirits, too, and come and play with'em, I s'pose."
"But, Dave, never mind the will o' the wisps. Come on to the 'coy."
"Nay, it's no use to go there; the nets that goes over the pipes hasbeen charmed [gnawed] by the rats."
"Yes, I know," cried Dick, laughing; "and you've put all new ones. Iheard you tell father so, and he paid you ever so much money. He's onlyplaying with us, Tom."
Dave laughed like a watchman's rattle, whose wooden spring had grownvery weak.
"Look here, Dave, now no nonsense! Want some more powder?"
"Nay, I don't want no poother," said Dave.
"Do you want some lead to melt down? I'll give you a big lump."
"Nay, I don't want no poother, and I don't want no lead," said Dave inan ill-used tone. "I can buy what I want."
"He does want it, Dick."
"Nay, I don't, lad; and things a man do want nobody asks him to hev."
"Why, what do you want, Dave?"
"Oh, nowt! I don't want nowt. But there is times when a man's a bitill out there in the fen, and he gets thinking as a drop o' sperrits 'ddo him good. But I d'n know."
"All right, Dave! I won't forget," said Dick. "Jump in, Tom."
"Nay, what's the good?" said Dave.
"All right, Tom! He's going to take us to the 'coy."
Tom followed his companion into the boat, the dog leaped in after them,whining with pleasure; and shaking his head and talking to himself, Davefollowed, seized the pole, giving a grunt at Dick, who wanted to presideover the locomotion, and then, with a tremendous thrust, he sent thepunt surging through the water.
"Nay, I'll pole," he said. "Get us over sooner, and we can begin work."
Dick exchanged glances with his companion, and they sat playing with thedog and watching the birds that rose from the reeds or swept by inlittle flocks in the distance, till, after about half an hour's poling,Dave ran the boat into a narrow lane among the uncut reeds, after awarning to be quite still, which the lads observed and the dogunderstood, going forward and crouching down in front of his master,with his eyes glittering and ears quivering with the intense way inwhich he was listening.
The way through the reeds was long, and in spite of the stealthy way inwhich the boat was propelled, several birds were startled, and flew upquacking loudly, and went away.
At last, though, they emerged from the dry growth into a little openpool, and crossing this, landed by a low house thatched with reeds andhidden in a thick grove of alders.
"Now, lads," said Dave in a whisper, "not a word. Stay here while I goand look. I wean't be long."
He secured the boat to a stump of wood, and landed, leaving the ladsseated in the punt, and gazing about them. But there was very little tosee, for, save in the direction of the patch of reeds through which theyhad passed, there was a low dense growth of alders and willows runningup to the height of twelve or fifteen feet; and it was beyond this thatthe sport was to be had.
They had not very long to wait before Dave returned, with Chip the piperat his heels--not that the dog had any musical gifts, but that he wascle
ver in doing certain duties in connection with a pipe, as will beseen, and to perform these adequately utter silence was required.
Dave seemed quite transformed. His yellow face, instead of being dulland heavy, was full of anxious lines, his eyes twinkled, his mouthtwitched and worked, and his brown wiry hands were fidgeting about hischin.
As he came up he held a finger in the air to command silence, and withstooping body and quick alert way he paused till he was close to theboys, and then whispered:
"You couldn't hev come better, lads; there's a boat load of 'em in thepond."
"What sort?" whispered Dick excitedly.
"All sorts, lad: widgeons, teal, mallards, and some pochards. Onlymind, if you say a word aloud, or let that theer dog bark, we sha'n'tget a duck."
Dick clapped his hand over his mouth, as if to ensure silence, and Tomcompressed his lips.
"Come along, then, boys, and I'll set yow wheer yow can look through ahole in one o' the screens and see all the fun."
"But can't we help, Dave?" asked Tom.
"Help, lad! no, not till the ducks are in the net. Then you may. Now,not a word, and come on."
Dave led the way to the little house, where he filled his pockets withbarley and oats mixed, out of a rough box, and as he did so he pointedto one corner which had been gnawed.
"Been charming of it," he whispered. "Eats! Now come, quiet-like;" andhe stepped out and into a narrow path leading through the dense alderwood, and in and out over patches of soft earth which quivered and feltlike sponges beneath their feet.
Dave glanced back at them sharply two or three times when a rustlingsound was made, and signed to them to be careful. Then once he stoppedin a wider opening and tossed up a feather or two, as if to make sure ofthe way the wind blew. Apparently satisfied, he bent towards the twolads and whispered:
"I'm going to the second pipe. Come quiet. Not a word, and when I mak'room for you, peep through the screen for a minute, and then come away."
The boys nodded, and followed in silence through a part of the alderwood which was not quite so dense, for here and there patches of tallreeds had grown out of a watery bed, and now stood up seven or eightfeet high and dry and brown.
Then all at once Dave stopped and looked back at them with a sly kind ofgrin upon his face, as he pointed down to a strong net stretched looselyover some half hoops of ash, whose ends were stuck down tightly in thesoft ground so as to form a tunnel about two feet wide.
This was over the soft earth, upon which lay the end of the net, tiedround with a piece of cord. A few yards farther on, however, this firstnet was joined to another, and the tunnel of network was arched over anarrow ditch full of water, and this ditch gradually increased in widthas the man led on, and ran in a curve, along whose outer or convex sidethey were proceeding.
Before long, as the bent-over willows spanned the ditch or "pipe," as itwas called, the net ceased to come down quite to the ground, its placebeing occupied by screens made of reeds and stakes, and all so placedthat there was room to go round them.
The boys now noted that the dog was following close behind in a way asfurtive as his master, and apparently quite as much interested as he inwhat was to take place.
The water ditch increased in width rapidly now till the net tunnelbecame six feet, twelve feet, twenty feet, and, close to the mouth,twenty-four feet wide, while the light ash-poles, bent over and tied inthe middle, were quite twelve feet above the water.
They were now near the mouth of the curved ditch, whose narrow portionbent round quite out of sight among the trees, while at a signal fromDave they went to a broad reed screen in front, and gazed through anopening, to see stretching out before them, calm and smooth beneath thesoft grey wintry sky, a large pool of about a couple of acres in extent,surrounded by closely growing trees similar to those through which theyhad passed, while at stated intervals were openings similar to that bywhich they stood, in all five in number, making a rough star whose armsor points were ditches or pipes some five-and-twenty feet wide, andcurving off, to end, as above told, sixty or seventy yards from themouth, only two feet wide, and covered right along with net.
All this was well-known to them before, and they hardly gave it a secondglance. What took their attention were some half dozen flocks ofwater-fowl seated calmly on the smooth surface of the pool and a coupleof herons standing in the shallow water on the other side, one sohitched up that he seemed to have no neck, the other at his full height,and with bill poised ready to dart down at some unfortunate fish.
Here and there a moor-hen or two swam quietly about flicking itsblack-barred white tail. There were some coots by a bed of reeds, and acouple of divers, one of which disappeared from time to time in the mostbusiness-like manner, and came up at the end of a long line of bubblesmany yards away.
Nearest to them was a large flock of quite a hundred ordinary wildducks, for the most part asleep, while the others sat motionless uponthe water or swam idly about, all waiting patiently in the secludedpool, which seemed to them a sanctuary, for nightfall, when slugs andsnails would be out and other things in motion, ready to supply themwith a banquet on some of their far-off feeding grounds. The drakeswere already distinct enough from the sober-feathered ducks, but theformer were not in their spring plumage, when they would put on theirbrightest colours and their heads glisten in green and gold.
Away to the left were a number of flat-looking squatty-shaped pochardswith their brown heads and soft grey backs, while to the right wereplenty of widgeons and another little flock of teal, those prettyminiature ducks, with here and there a rarer specimen, among which werepintails, drakes with the centre feathers of the tail produced likethose of a parroquet.
The lads could have stopped for an hour gazing at the manners andcustoms of the wild-fowl dotting the lake in happy unconsciousness ofthe enemies so near; but, just as Dick had fixed his eyes upon asolitary group of about a couple of dozen ducks nearly across the pond,he felt a tug behind him, and turning, there was Dave signing to him tocome away.
Dave made the lads follow him till he could place them in among thetrees with a tuft of reeds before them, which proved sufficient screenand yet gave them a view of part of the pool, and the entrance to thepipe upon whose bank they had been standing.
"Now, look here, bairns," he whispered; "if you move or says a word,there'll be no ducks."
The lads nodded and crouched in their places, while Dave disappearedbehind them, but appeared again close to the screen of reed which hidhim from the birds in the pool.
Matters were so exciting now as the watchers looked on that Dickrelieved his feelings by pinching Tom's leg, and then holding up hisfist, as if in promise of what was to follow if he made a sound.
Meanwhile, with Chip close at his heels, Dave went to the farthestscreen and peered through the opening, and after satisfying himself theysaw him thrust one hand into his pocket and make a sign to Chip, whilealmost simultaneously he scattered a handful of the oats and barleyright over the water, the grain falling through the meshes of theoutspread net.
Just then Chip, in the most quiet matter-of-fact way, made hisappearance on the fore-shore of the pool, and, without barking or takingnotice of the ducks, trotted slowly along toward the entrance to thepipe, leaped over a low piece of wood, and disappeared from sight tojoin his master behind the screen, when the dog was rewarded for what hehad done with a piece of cheese.
The coming of the dog, however, had created quite a commotion upon thelake, for the knot of two dozen ducks on the other side no sooner caughtsight of him than, uttering a prodigious quacking, they came swimmingand half flying as rapidly as they could toward the mouth of the pipe,to begin feeding upon the oats scattered upon the water.
"Look at the decoy-ducks," whispered Dick, and then he watched insilence, for these two dozen were regularly fed wild-fowl which hadbecome so far half tame that, knowing the appearance of the dog to beassociated with corn and other seeds at the mouth of the pipe, they cameat once.
This was too much for the strangers, which followed them, mingled withthem, and began to feed as well.
Dave was at this time behind the second screen waiting for Chip, whoshowed himself for a moment or two at the edge of the long water ditch,trotted on towards the second screen, leaped over a low wood bar at theend, and joined his master, to receive a second piece of cheese.
That white dog was a wonder to the wild ducks, which left off eatingdirectly and began to swim slowly and cautiously up the netted tunnel totry and find out what he was doing.
Had Chip stopped and looked at them, and barked, they would all havetaken flight, but the dog was too well taught. He was a piper of thehighest quality, and knew his business, which was to show himself for ashort time and then trot on to the next screen and leap over anddisappear just as if he were engaged in some mysterious business of hisown.
This was too much for the ducks, which cackled and bobbed their heads upand down and swam on, moved by an intense curiosity to find out what wasChip's particular game.
But Chip's proceedings were stale to the decoy-ducks, who had seen himso often that they cared nothing, but stopped behind to partake of thefood, while quite a hundred followed their leaders up the pipe in happyignorance of the meaning of a net. What was more, the decoy-ducks oftenfound food at the mouths of the pipes when their wild relatives were offfeeding, and hence they troubled themselves no more. All that wasimpressed upon their small brains was that the appearance of Chip meantfood, and they stayed behind to feed.
Chip was invisible eating a piece of cheese. Then he appeared againhigher up, trotted on, leaped over the low wood bar, and joined hismaster for more cheese.
And so it went on, Dave going higher and higher from screen to screen,and the dog slowly following and alternately appearing to anddisappearing from the sight of the ducks, which never of course caughtsight of Dave, who was too well hidden behind the screens.
At last they were lured on and on so far by the dog that they were wherethe ditch began to bend round more sharply and the pipe was narrowing.This was the time for a fresh proceeding.
Dave had gone on right up to the farthest screen, and suddenly divedinto a narrow path through the trees which led him, quite concealed fromview, round and back to the first screen. He passed the boys, makingthem a sign to be silent, and then went right round that first screenjust as Chip was appearing far up by the side of the pipe--and the flockof ducks were following--and quickly now showed himself at the mouth ofthe trap.
The ducks saw him instantly, and there was a slight commotion as he tookoff and held up his hat; but there was no attempt at flight, the birdsmerely swam on rapidly farther toward the end and disappeared round thecurve.
Dave went quickly on past a screen or two and showed himself again, thecurve of the pipe bringing him once more into view. He held up his hatand the ducks swam on, out of sight once more.
This was continued again and again, till the ducks were driven bydegrees from where the ditch and its arching of net decreased from eightfeet wide to six feet, to four feet, to two feet, and the flock washuddled together, and safe in the trap that had been prepared for them.
All at once, while the two lads were watching all these proceedings,Dave came into sight for a moment and waved his hand for them to come,but signed to them at the same time to be quiet.
It was as well that he did, for otherwise they would have uttered ashout of triumph.
"We've got 'em, lads," he said, with his yellow face puckered up withsatisfaction; "but don't make a noise. I like to keep the 'coy quiet.Come along!"
"Is there any fear of their getting away now, Dave?" whispered Dick ashe followed.
"Yes, to market," said Dave grimly.
As they neared the end of the pipe there was a loud cackling andfluttering heard, and the ducks were disposed to make a rush back, butthe sight of the man sent them all onward once more to the end of thepipe, where they were driven to leave the water for the dry land, overwhich the net was spread for the last few yards, forming a giganticpurse or stocking.
And now a tremendous fluttering and excitement ensued, for as, inobedience to their leader's sign, the lads stopped once more, Davestepped forward rapidly, detached the final portion of the net whichformed the bag or purse from the bent-over ash stick, and twisted ittogether and tied it round, with the result that the birds were all shutup in the long purse and at his mercy.
Just then Chip performed a kind of triumphal dance, and leaped up atDick and again at Tom before becoming quiescent, and looking up at allin turn, giving his little stumpy tail a few wags, while his wholeaspect seemed to say:
"Didn't we do that well?"
"That's a fine take, my lads," said Dave in congratulatory tones.
"Yes," said Dick, looking down at the frightened birds scuffling overeach other; "but--"
"Nay! don't, man, say that!" cried Dave. "I know, my lad. But wildduck's good to yeat; and they've got to be killed and go to market. Yowwanted to see me ketch the duck, and theer they are. Going to help mekill 'em?"
"No!" cried Dick in a voice full of disgust. But he helped carry thecapture to the boat after the slaying was at an end and the empty shortnet replaced, ready distended at the end of the tunnel or pipe.
"There we are!" said Dave. "Ready for another flock?"
"And are you going to try for another in one of the pipes over the otherside?"
"Nay, not to-day, my lad," was the reply. "The 'coy-ducks wean't behungry and come for their food, so we'll wait for another time."
"Don't the 'coy-ducks ever go right away, Dave?" asked Tom, as the boatwas being quietly poled back.
"Sometimes; but not often, and if they do some others taks their places,and stops. They get fed reg'lar, and that's what a duck likes. Gooduns to eat, ducks. They mak' nests and bring off broods of young ones,and keep to the pool year after year, and seem to know me a bit; but ifChip here went barking among 'em, or I was to go shooting, they'd soonbe driven away."
"But do they know that they are leading the wild ducks into the pipe?"said Dick eagerly.
"_Not_ they. Ducks can't think like you and me. They come to be fed,and the others follow 'em, and then get thinking about Chip and followhim."
"Does Chip know?" said Tom.
"Ask him," said Dave, laughing in his grim, silent way. "I think hedoos, but he never said so. Hello!"
They were passing the edge of a great bed of reeds, and rounding acorner, when they came in sight of three or four teal, and no sooner didthe birds catch sight of them than they began to scurry along the waterpreparatory to taking flight, but all at once there was a rush and asplash, and the party in the boat saw a huge fish half throw itself outof the water, fall back, and disappear.
"He caught him," said Dave grimly. "You see, lad, other things 'sidesme ketches the ducks."
"A great pike!" cried Dick, standing up to try and catch sight of thetyrant of the waters.
"Ay! One as likes duck for dinner. He'll eat him without picking hisfeathers off."
"Wasn't it a very big one, Dave?" cried Tom.
"Ay, lad, a thirty-pounder like enew," said Dave, working his pole.
"Dave, shall you know this place again?" cried Dick.
"Should I know my own hand!"
"Then let's come over and try for that fellow to-morrow or next day."
"Right, lad! I'll come. We'll set some liggers, and I dessay we canget hold of him. If we can't theer's plenty more."
"To-morrow, Dave?"
"Nay, I shall be getting off my ducks. Two hundred wants some seeingto."
"Next day, then?"
"Say Saturday, my lads. That'll give me time to get a few baits."
So Saturday was appointed for the day with the pike, and the ducks andthe boys were duly landed, the latter to go homeward with four coupleseach, and Dick with strict orders to ask the squire whether he wantedany more, before they were sent off in Hickathrift's car to the town.
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Dick o' the Fens: A Tale of the Great East Swamp Page 8