Dick o' the Fens: A Tale of the Great East Swamp

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  MR. MARSTON'S NARROW ESCAPE.

  The wintry weather passed away with its storms and continuous rains andfloods, which hindered the progress of the great lode or drain, and thencame the spring sunshine, with the lads waking up to the fact that hereand there the arums were thrusting up their glossy-green spathes, thatthe celandines were out like yellow stars, and that the rustling reedsleft uncut had been snapped off and beaten down, and had rotted in thewater, and that from among them the young shoots of the fresh crop werebeginning to peep.

  Bold brisk winds swept over the fen and raised foamy waves in the meres,and the nights were clear and cold, though there had been little frostthat year, never enough to well coat the lakes and pools with ice, sothat the pattens could be cleaned from their rust and sharpened atHickathrift's grindstone ready for the lads at the old Priory andGrimsey to skate in and out for miles. But, in spite of the cold, therewas a feeling of spring in the air. The great grey-backed crows weregetting scarce, and the short-eared owls, which, a couple of monthsbefore, could be flushed from the tufts in the fen, to fly off lookinglike chubby hawks, were gone, and the flights of ducks and peewits hadbroken up. The golden plovers were gone; but the green peewits werebusy nesting, or rather laying eggs without nests--pear-shaped eggs,small at one end, large at the other, thickly blotched and splashed withdark green, and over which the birds watched, ready to fall as if withbroken wing before the intruder, and try to lure him away.

  Many a tramp over the sodden ground did the lads have with Dave, whogenerally waited for their coming, leaping-pole in hand, and then tookthem to the peewits' haunts to gather a basketful of their eggs.

  "I don't know how you do it, Dave," said Dick. "We go and hunt forhours, and only get a few pie-wipes' eggs; you always get a basketful."

  "It's a man's natur," said Dave.

  "Well, show us how you know," said Dick, shouldering his leaping-pole,and pretending to hit his companion's head.

  "Nay, lad, theer's no showing a thing like that," said Davemysteriously. "It comes to a man."

  "Gammon!" cried Dick. "It's a dodge you've learned."

  Dave chuckled and tramped on beside the lads, having enough to do toavoid sinking in.

  "She's reyther juicy this spring, eh? They heven't dree-ernt her yet,"said Dave with a malicious grin. "See there, now, young TomTallington," he cried, stepping past the lad, and, picking up a coupleof eggs in spite of the wailing of their owners, as they came nappingclose by, the cock bird in his glossy-green spring feathers, and a longpendent tuft hanging down from the back of his head.

  "How stupid!" cried Tom. "I didn't see them."

  "Nay, you wouldn't," said Dave, stepping across Dick, who was on hisleft; "and yow, young squire Dick, didn't see they two."

  "Yes, I did, Dave, I did," cried Dick. "I was just going to pick themup."

  "Pick' em up then," cried Dave quietly; "where are they then?" Dicklooked sharply round him; but there was not an egg to be seen, and herealised that Dave had cheated him, and drawn him into a declarationthat was not true.

  He was very silent under the laughter of his companions, and felt it allthe more.

  They went on, the lads sometimes finding an egg or two, but nearly allfalling to Dave, who, as if by unerring instinct, went straight to thespots where the nests lay, and secured the spoil.

  Now and then a heron flew up, one with a small eel twining about itsbill; and more than once a hare went bounding off from its form amongthe dry last year's grass.

  "We want Hickathrift's dog here," cried Dick.

  "What for, lad? what for?" said Dave, laughing.

  "To catch the hares."

  "Nay, yow want no dog," said Dave. "Easy enough to catch hares."

  "Easy! How?" cried Tom.

  "Go up to 'em and catch 'em," said Dave coolly.

  "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Dick, and his companion joined in. "I should liketo see you catch a hare, Dave."

  "Shouldst ta, lad? Very well, wait a bit."

  They tramped on, with Dave picking up an egg here, a couple there, in away that was most exasperating to the boys, whose luck was very bad.

  "I never saw such eyes," said Tom. "I can't see the eggs like he can."

  Dave chuckled as if he had a rattlesnake in his throat, and they went onfor a while till Dick stopped suddenly, and pointed to the side of oneof the fen ponds.

  "That isn't a heron," he said.

  "No. One o' them long-legged ones--a crane," said Dave. "Gettingstraange and scarce now. Used to be lots of 'em breed here when mygrandfather was a boy. Nay, nay, don't scar' him," he cried, checkingDick, who was about to wave his hands. "Niver disturb the birds wi'outyou want 'em to eat or sell. Now, then: yonder's a hare."

  "Where?" cried Tom. "I can't see it."

  "Over yonder among that dry grass."

  "There isn't," said Dick. "I can't see any hare."

  "Like me to go and catch him, young Tom?"

  "Here, I'll soon see if there's a hare," cried Dick; but Dave caught himby the shoulder with a grip of iron, and thrust the pole he carried intothe soft bog.

  "I didn't say I was going to run a hare down," he said. "Theer's a hareyonder in her form. Shall I go and catch her?"

  "Yes," said Dick, grinning. "Shall I say, `Sh!'"

  "Nay, if thou'rt going to play tricks, lad, I shall howd my hand. Ithowt yow wanted to see me ketch a hare."

  "Go on, then," said Dick, laughing; "we won't move."

  Dave chuckled, swung his basket behind him as if hung by a strip ofcow-hide over his shoulder, and walked quietly on, in and out among thetufts of heather and moss, for some five-and-twenty yards.

  "He's laughing at us," said Dick.

  "No, he isn't. I've heard Hickathrift say he can catch hares," repliedTom. "Look!"

  For just then they saw Dave go straight up to a tuft of dry grass, stoopdown and pick up a hare by its ears, and place it on his left arm.

  The boys ran up excitedly.

  "Why, Dave, I didn't think you could do it!" cried Dick.

  "Dessay not," replied the decoy-man, uttering his unpleasant laugh."Theer, she's a beauty, isn't she?"

  The hare struggled for a moment or two, and then crouched down in theman's arm, with its heart throbbing and great eyes staring round at itscaptors.

  "Kill it, Dave, kill it," cried Tom.

  "Kill it! What for? Pretty creatur'," said Dave, stroking the hare'sbrown speckled fur, and laying its long black-tipped sensitive earssmoothly down over its back.

  "To take home."

  "Nay, who kills hares at the end of March, lad? Hares is mad in March."

  "Is that why it let you catch it, Dave?"

  "Mebbe, lad, mebbe, Mester Dick. Theer, hev you done stroking her?"

  "No. Why?"

  "Going to let her run?"

  "Wait a bit," cried Dick.

  "Tek her by the ears, lad, and putt thy hand beneath her. That's theways."

  Dick took the hare in his arms, and the trembling beast submittedwithout a struggle.

  "How did you know it was there?" said Tom.

  "How did I know she was theer! Why, she had her ears cocked-uplistening, plain enough to see. Theer, let her go now. She's got awife somewheers about."

  "_She's_ got a wife! Why don't you say _He_?" cried Dick. "Now, Tom,I'm going to let him go; but he won't run, he's a sick one. You'll see.Anyone could catch a hare like this."

  He carefully placed the hare upon the ground, holding tightly by itsears.

  "There," he cried; "I told you so! Look how stupid and--Oh!"

  The hare made one great leap, and then hardly seemed to touch the groundagain with its muscular hind-legs; but went off at a tremendous rate,bounding over heath and tuft, till it disappeared in the distance.

  "There's a sleepy sick one for you, Mester Dick!" cried Dave. "Now,then, goo and ketch her, lad."

  "Well, I never!" cried Dick. "I say, Dave, how do you manage
it? Couldyou catch another?"

  "Ay, lad, many as I like."

  "And rabbits too?"

  "Nay, I don't say that. I hev ketched rabbuds that ways, but not often.Rabbud always makes for his hole."

  As he spoke he walked back to where he had left his pole standing in thebog earth, and they trudged on again to where a lane of water impededtheir further progress.

  "Too wide for you, lads?" said Dave.

  "No," replied Dick, "if it's good bottom."

  "Good bottom a little higher up here," said Dave, bearing off to theleft. "Now, then, over you go!"

  Dick, pole in hand, took a run without the slightest hesitation, forDave's word was law. He said there was good bottom to the lane ofwater, and he was sure to know, for he had the knowledge of his fatherand grandfather joined to his own. If it had been bad bottom Dick'sfeat would have been impossible, for his pole would have gone downperhaps to its full length in the soft bog; as it was, the end of thepole rested upon gravel in about three feet of water, and the lad wentover easily and describing a curve through the air.

  "Look out!" shouted Tom, following suit, and landing easily upon theother side; while Dave took off his basket of plovers' eggs by slippingthe hide band over his head, then, hanging it to the end of his pole, heheld it over the water to the boys, who reached across and took ittogether on their poles, landing it safely without breaking an egg.

  The next minute, with the ease of one long practised in such leaps, Daveflew over and resumed his load.

  Several more long lanes of water were cleared in this way, Dave leadingthe boys a good round, and taking them at last to his house, pretty wellladen with eggs, where he set before them a loaf and butter, and lit afire.

  "Theer, you can boil your eggs," he said, "and mak' a meal. Mebbeyou're hungry now."

  There was no maybe in the matter, judging from the number of slices ofbread and butter and hard-boiled plovers' eggs the lads consumed.

  Over the meal the question of the draining was discussedsympathetically.

  "No fish," said Dick.

  "No decoy," said Tom.

  "No plovers' eggs," said Dave.

  "No rabbiting," said Dick.

  "No eeling," said Tom.

  "No nothing," said Dave. "Hey bud it'll be a sad job when it's done.But it arn't done yet, lads, eh?"

  "No, it isn't done yet," said Dick. "I say, where's John Warren? Ihaven't seen him for months."

  "I hev," said Dave. "He's a breaking his heart, lads, about big drain.Comes over to see me and smoke his pipe. It'll 'bout kill him if hisrabbud-warren is took awaya. Bud dree-ern ar'n't done yet, lads, eh?"

  Squire Winthorpe was of a different opinion that night when Dick reachedhome after seeing Tom well on his way.

  "They're going on famously now," he said to Mrs Winthorpe, who wasrepairing the damage in one of Dick's garments.

  "And was the meeting satisfied?"

  "Yes, quite," said the squire. "We had a big meeting with the gentlemenfrom London who are interested in the business, and they praised youngMr Marston, the engineer, wonderfully fine young fellow too."

  Dick pricked up his ears.

  "I thought Mr Marston was coming to see us a deal, father!" he said.

  "He's been away during the bad weather when the men couldn't work--up intown making plans and things. He's coming over to-night."

  "And do the people about seem as dissatisfied as ever about the work?"said Mrs Winthorpe.

  "I don't hear much about it," said the squire. "They'll soon settledown to it when they find how things are improved. Well, Dick, plentyof sport to-day?"

  "Dave got plenty of pie-wipes' eggs, father. I didn't find many."

  "Got enough to give Mr Marston a few?"

  "Oh, yes, plenty for that! What time's he coming?"

  "About eight, I should think. He's coming along the river bank afterhis men have done."

  "And going back, father?"

  "Oh no! he'll sleep here to-night."

  The squire went out to have his customary look round the farmsteadbefore settling down for the night, and Dick followed him. The thrusheswere piping; sounds of ducks feeding out in the fen came off the water,and here and there a great shadowy-looking bird could be seen flappingits way over the desolate waste, but everywhere there was the feeling ofreturning spring in the air, and the light was lingering well in thewest, making the planet in the east look pale and wan.

  Everything seemed to be all right. There was a loud muttering among thefowls at roost. Solomon laid back his ears and twitched the skin of hisback as if he meant to kick when Dick went near the lean-to shedsupported on posts, thatched with reeds and built up against an oldstone wall in which there were the remains of a groined arch.

  Everything about the Toft was at peace, and down toward thewheelwright's the labourers' cottages were so still that it was evidentthat some of the people had gone to bed.

  The squire went on down the gravel slope, past the clump of firs, and bythe old ivied wall which marked the boundary of the ancient priory,when, after crossing a field or two, they came to the raised bank whichkept the sluggish river within bounds.

  "Looks cold and muddy, father," said Dick.

  "Yes, not tempting for a bathe, Dick; but some day I hope to see a rivernearly as big as that draining our great fen."

  "But don't you think it will be a pity, father?"

  "Yes, for idle boys who want to pass their lives fishing, and for menlike Dave and John Warren. Depend upon it, Dick, it's the duty of everyman to try and improve what he sees about."

  "But natural things look so beautiful, father!"

  "In moderation, boy. Don't see any sign of Mr Marston yet, do you?"

  "No, father," replied Dick after taking a long look over the desolatelevel where the river wound between its raised banks toward the sea.

  "Can't very well miss his way," said the squire, half to himself.

  "Unless he came through the fen," said Dick.

  "Oh, he wouldn't do that! He'd come along by the river wall, my boy;it's longer, but better walking."

  The squire walked back toward the house, turning off so as to approachit by the back, where his men were digging for a great rain-water tankto be made.

  The men had not progressed far, for their way was through stones andcement, which showed how, at one time, there must have been either aboundary-wall or a building there; and as they stood by the opening thelatter was proved to be the case, for Dick stooped down and picked up apiece of ancient roofing lead.

  "Yes, Dick, this must have been a fine old place at one time," said thesquire. "Let's get back. Be a bit of a frost to-night, I think."

  "I hope not, father."

  "And I hope it will, my boy! I like to get the cold now, not when theyoung trees are budding and blossoming."

  They went in, to find the ample supper spread upon its snowy cloth andthe empty jug standing ready for the ale to be drawn to flank the pinkyham, yellow butter, and well-browned young fowl.

  "No, wife, no! Can't see any sign of him yet," said the squire. "Dick,get me my pipe. I'll have just one while we're waiting. Hope he hasnot taken the wrong road!"

  "Do you think he has?" said Mrs Winthorpe anxiously. "It would be verydangerous for him now it is growing dark."

  "No, no; nonsense!" said the squire, filling his pipe from the stonetobacco-jar Dick had taken from the high chimney-piece of the cosy, low,oak-panelled room.

  It was a curious receptacle, having been originally a corbel from thebottom of a groin of the old building, and represented an evil-lookinggrotesque head. This the squire had had hollowed out and fitted with aleaden lid.

  "Think we ought to go and meet him, father?" said Dick, after watchingthe supper-table with the longing eyes of a young boy, and then takingthem away to stare at his mother's glistening needle and the soft greyclouds from his father's pipe.

  "No, Dick, we don't know which way to go. If we knew we would. Perhapshe will
not come at all, and I'm too tired to go far to-night."

  Dick bent down and stroked Tibb, the great black cat, which began topurr.

  "Put on a few more turves, Dick, and a bit or two of wood," said hismother. "Mr Marston may be cold."

  Dick laid a few pieces of the resinous pine-root from the fen upon thefire, and built up round it several black squares of well-dried peatwhere the rest glowed and fell away in a delicate creamy ash. Then thefir-wood began to blaze, and he returned to his seat.

  "'Tatoes is done!" said a voice at the door, and the red-armed maidstood waiting for orders to bring them in.

  "Put them in a dish, Sarah, and keep them in the oven with the dooropen. When Mr Marston comes you can put them in the best wooden bowl,and cover them with a clean napkin before you bring them in," said MrsWinthorpe.

  "Oh, I say, mother, I am so hungry! Mayn't I have one baked potato?"

  "Surely you can wait, my boy, till our visitor comes," said MrsWinthorpe quietly.

  Dick stared across at the maid as she was closing the door, and a lookof intelligence passed between them, one which asked a question andanswered it; and Dick knew that if he went into the great kitchen therewould be a mealy potato ready for him by the big open fireplace, withbutter _ad libitum_, and pepper and salt.

  Dick sat stroking the cat for a few minutes and then rose, to go to thelong low casement bay-window, draw aside the curtain, and look out overthe black fen.

  "Can't see him," he said with a sigh; and then, as no notice was takenof his remark, he went slowly out and across the square stone-paved hallto the kitchen, where, just as he expected, a great potato was waitingfor him by the peat-fire, and hot plate, butter, pepper, and salt wereready.

  "Oh, I say, Sarah, you are a good one!" cried Dick.

  "I thought you'd come, Mester Dick," said the maid; and then, with astart, "Gracious! what's that?"

  "Sea-bird," said Dick shortly, and then he dropped the knife and ranback to the parlour, for another cry came from off the fen.

  "Hear that, father!" cried Dick.

  "Hear it! yes, my lad. Quick! get your cap. My staff, mother," headded. "Poor fellow's got in, p'r'aps."

  The squire hurried out after Dick, who had taken the lead, and as theypassed out of the great stone porch the lad uttered a hail, which wasanswered evidently from about a couple of hundred yards away.

  "He has been coming across the fen path," said the squire. "Ahoy! don'tstir till we come."

  "Shall we want the lantern, father?" cried Dick.

  "No, no, my lad; we can see. Seems darker first coming out of thelight."

  A fresh cry came from off the fen, and it was so unmistakably the word"Help!" that the squire and his son increased their pace.

  "Ahoy, there!" cried a big gruff voice.

  "Hickathrift?"

  "Ay, mester! Hear that! some un's in trouble over yonder."

  The wheelwright's big figure loomed up out of the darkness and joinedthem as they hurried on.

  "Yes, I heard it. I think it must be Mr Marston missed his way."

  "What! the young gent at the dreeaning! Hey, bud he'd no call to be outtheer."

  "Where are you?" shouted Dick, who was ahead now and hurrying along thetrack that struck off to the big reed-beds and then away over the fen tothe sea-bank.

  "Here! help!" came faintly.

  "Tak' care, Mester Dick!" cried Hickathrift as he and the squirefollowed. "Why, he is reight off the path!"

  "I'll take care!" shouted Dick. "Come on! All right; it isn't verysoft here!"

  Long usage had made him so familiar with the place that he was able toleave the track in the darkness and pick his way to where, guided by thevoice, he found their expected visitor, not, as he expected, up to hismiddle in the soft peat, but lying prone.

  "Why, Mr Marston, you're all right!" cried Dick. "You wouldn't havehurt if you had come across here."

  "Help!" came faintly from the prostrate traveller, and Dick caught hisarm, but only to elicit a groan.

  "Well, he is a coward!" thought Dick. "Here, father! Hicky!"

  "Rather soft, my boy!" said the squire.

  "Ay, not meant for men o' our weight, mester," said the wheelwright; andthey had to flounder in the soft bog a little before they reached thespot where Dick stood holding the young man's cold hand.

  "He has fainted with fright, father," said Dick, who felt amused atanyone being so alarmed out there in the darkness.

  "Let me tackle him, mester," said the wheelwright.

  "No; each take a hand, my lad," said the squire, "and then let's movetogether for the path as quickly as possible."

  "Reight!" cried Hickathrift, laconically; and, stooping down, they eachtook a hand, and half ran half waded through the black boggy mud, tillthey reached the path from which the young man had strayed.

  "Poor chap! he were a bit scar'd to find himself in bog."

  "Pity he ventured that way," said the squire.

  "Here, Mr Marston, you're all right now," said Dick. "Can you get upand walk?"

  There was no answer, but the young man tried to struggle up, and wouldhave sunk down again had not the squire caught him round the waist.

  "Poor lad! he's bet out. Not used to our parts," said Hickathrift."Here, howd hard, sir. Help me get him o' my back like a sack, and I'llrun him up to the house i' no time."

  It seemed the best plan; and as the young man uttered a low moan he washalf lifted on to Hickathrift's broad back, and carried toward thehouse.

  "Run on, Dick, and tell your mother to mix a good glass of hollands andwater," said the squire.

  Dick obeyed, and the steaming glass of hot spirits was ready as thewheelwright bore in his load, and the young man was placed in a chairbefore the glowing kitchen fire.

  "My arm!" he said faintly.

  "You wrenched his arm, Hicky," said Dick, "when you dragged him out."

  "Very sorry, Mester Dick."

  "Ugh!" cried the lad, who had laid his hand tenderly on their visitor'sshoulder.

  "What is it?" cried Mrs Winthorpe.

  "Blood. He has been hurt," said Dick.

  "Shot! Here," said the young man in a whisper; and then his head sankdown sidewise, and he fainted dead away.

  Mr Marston's faintly-uttered words sent a thrill through all present,but no time was wasted. People who live in out-of-the-way places, farfrom medical help, learn to be self-reliant, and as soon as SquireWinthorpe realised what was wrong he gave orders for the injured man tobe carried to the couch in the dining parlour, where his wet jacket wastaken off by the simple process of ripping up the back seam.

  "Now, mother, the scissors," said the squire, "and have some bandagesready. You, Dick, if it's too much for you, go away. If it isn't:stop. You may want to bind up a wound some day."

  Dick felt a peculiar sensation of giddy sickness, but he tried to masterit, and stood looking on as the shirt sleeve was cut open, and the youngman's white arm laid bare to the shoulder, displaying an ugly wound inthe fleshy part.

  "Why, it's gone right through, mother," whispered the squire, shakinghis head as he applied sponge and cold water to the bleeding wounds.

  "And doctor says there's veins and artrys, mester," said Hickathrift,huskily. "One's bad and t'other's worse. Which is it, mester?"

  "I hope and believe there is no artery touched," said the squire; "butwe must run no risk. Hickathrift, my man, the doctor must be fetched.Go and send one of the men."

  "Nay, squire, I'll go mysen," replied the big wheelwright. "Did'st seehis goon, Mester Dick?"

  "No, I saw no gun."

  "Strange pity a man can't carry a gun like a Chrishtun," said thewheelwright, "and not go shutin hissen that way."

  The wheelwright went off, and the squire busied himself binding up thewounds, padding and tightening, and proving beyond doubt that no arteryhad been touched, for the blood was soon nearly staunched, while, justas he was finishing, and Mrs Winthorpe was drawing the sleeve on oneside so as
to secure a bandage with some stitches, something rolled onto the floor, and Dick picked it up.

  "What's that, Dick--money?"

  "No, father; leaden bullet."

  "Ha! that's it; nice thing to go through a man's arm," said the squireas he examined the roughly-cast ragged piece of lead. "We must look forhis gun to-morrow. What did he expect to get with a bullet at a timelike this? Eh? What were you trying to shoot, Marston?" said thesquire, as he found that the young man's eyes were open and staring athim.

  "I--trying to shoot!"

  "Yes; of course you didn't mean to bring yourself down," said thesquire, smiling; "but what in the world, man, were you trying to shootwith bullets out here?"

  The young engineer did not reply, but looked round from one to theother, and gave Mrs Winthorpe a grateful smile.

  "Do you recollect where you left your gun?" said Dick eagerly, for thethought of the rust and mischief that would result from a night in thebog troubled him.

  "Left my gun!" he said.

  "Never mind now, Mr Marston," said the squire kindly. "Your things arewet, and we'll get you to bed. It's a nasty wound, but it will soon getright again. I'm not a doctor, but I know the bone is not broken."

  "I did not understand you at first," said the young engineer then. "Youthink I have been carrying a gun, and shot myself?"

  "Yes, but never mind now," said Mrs Winthorpe, kindly. "I don't thinkyou ought to talk."

  "No," was the reply; "I will not say much; but I think Mr Winthorpeought to know. Some one shot me as I was coming across the fen."

  "What!" cried Dick.

  "Shot you!" said the squire.

  "Yes. It was quite dark, and I was carefully picking my way, when therewas a puff of smoke from a bed of reeds, a loud report, and I seemed tofeel a tremendous blow; and I remember no more till I came to, feelingsick and faint, and managed to crawl along till I saw the lights of thefarm here, and cried for help."

  "Great heavens!" cried the squire.

  "Didn't you see any one?" cried Mrs Winthorpe.

  "No, nothing but the smoke from the reeds. I feel rather faint now--ifyou will let me rest."

  With the help of Dick and his father the young engineer was assisted tohis bed, where he seemed to drop at once into a heavy sleep; and,satisfied that there was nothing to fear for some time, the squirereturned to the parlour looking very serious, while Dick watched himintently to see what he would say.

  "This is very dreadful, my dear," whispered Mrs Winthorpe at last."Have we some strange robber in the fen?"

  "Don't know," said the squire shortly. "Perhaps some one has a spiteagainst him."

  "How dreadful!" said Mrs Winthorpe.

  "One of his men perhaps."

  "Or a robber," cried Dick excitedly. "Why, father, we might get Daveand John Warren and Hicky and some more, and hunt him down."

  "Robbers rob," said the squire laconically.

  "Of course, my dear," said Mrs Winthorpe; "and it would be dreadful tothink of. Why, we could never go to our beds in peace."

  "But Mr Marston's watch and money are all right, my dear. Depend uponit he has offended one of the rough drain diggers, and it is an act ofrevenge."

  "But the man ought to be punished."

  "Of course, my dear, and we'll have the constables over from town, andhe shall be found. It won't be very hard to do."

  "Why not, father?"

  "Because many of the men have no guns."

  "But they might borrow, father?"

  "The easier to find out then," said the squire. "Well, one must eatwhether a man's shot or no. History does not say that everybody wentwithout his supper because King Charles's head was cut off. Mother,draw the ale. Dick, tell Sarah to bring in those hot potatoes. I'mhungry, and I've got to sit up all night."

  There proved to be no real need, for the squire's patient slept soundly,and there was nothing to disturb the silence at the Toft. But morningfound the squire still watching, with Mrs Winthorpe busy with herneedle in the dining parlour, and Dick lying down on the hearth-rug, andsleeping soundly by the glowing fire. For about four o'clock, afterstrenuously refusing to go to bed, he had thought he would lie down andrest for a bit, with the result that he was in an instant fast asleep,and breathing heavily.

  By breakfast-time Farmer Tallington had heard the news, and was overwith Tom, each ready to listen to the squire's and Dick's account; andbefore nine o'clock Dave and John Warren, who had come over toHickathrift's, to find him from home, came on to the Toft to talk withDick and Tom, and stare and gape.

  "Why, theer heven't been such a thing happen since the big fight wi' thesmugglers and the king's men," said Dave.

  To which John Warren assented, and said it was "amaazin'."

  "And who do you think it weer?" said Dave, as he stood scratching hisear; and upon being told the squire's opinion, he shook his head, andsaid there was no knowing.

  "It's a bad thing, Mester Dick, bringing straangers into a plaace. Yownivver know what characters they've got. Why, I do believe--it's aturruble thing to say--that some of they lads at work at big dree-ernhevven't got no characters at all."

  "Here be Hickathrift a-coming wi' doctor," said John Warren.

  And sure enough there was the doctor on his old cob coming along the fenroad, with Hickathrift striding by his side, the man of powder anddraught having been from home with a patient miles away when Hickathriftreached the town, and not returning till five o'clock.

  "He'll do right enough, squire," said the doctor. "Young man like he issoon mends a hole in his flesh. You did quite right; but I suppose thebandaging was young Dick's doing, for of all the clumsy bungling I eversaw it was about the worst."

  Dick gave his eye a peculiar twist in the direction of his father, whowas giving him a droll look, and then they both laughed.

  "Very delicately done, doctor," said the squire. "There, Dick, as hehas put it on your shoulders you may as well bear it."

  "Ah, let him!" said the doctor. "Now, what are you going to do?" hesaid aloud; "catch the scoundrel who shot Mr Marston, and get himtransported for life?"

  "That's what ought to be done to him," said John Warren solemnly, as helooked straight away over the fen.

  "Ay," said Dave. "How do we know but what it may be our turn orHickathrift's next? It's a straange, bad thing."

  "I must talk it over with Mr Marston," said the squire, "when he getsbetter, and then we shall see."