CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
HICKY'S OPINIONS.
"Nay, lads, I don't say as it weer the will-o'-the-wisps, only as itmight have been."
"Now, Hicky," cried Dick, "who ever heard of a will-o'-the-wisp with agun?"
"Can't say as ever I did," said the wheelwright; "but I don't see whynot."
"What stuff! Do you hear what he says, Tom? He says it may have beenone of the will-o'-the-wisps that shot and broke his finger."
"A will-o'-the-wisp with a gun!" cried Tom. "Ha! ha! ha!"
"Why shouldn't a will hev a goon as well as a lanthorn?" saidHickathrift, stolidly.
"Why, where would he get his powder and shot?" said Dick.
"Same place as he gets his candle for his lanthorn."
"Oh, but what nonsense! The will-o'-the-wisp is a light that movesabout," cried Dick. "It is not anybody."
"I don't know so much about that," said the wheelwright, lifting up hisbandaged hand. "All I know is that something shot at me, and broke myfinger just the same as something shot at Mester Marston. They don'tlike it, lads. Mark my words, they don't like it."
"Who don't like what?" said Tom.
"Will-o'-the-wisps don't like people cootting big drains acrost the fen,my lads. They don't mind you fishing or going after the eels with thestong-gad; but they don't like the draining, and you see if it don'tcome to harm!"
"Nonsense!" cried Dick. "But I say, Hicky, you are so quiet about itall, did you see who it was shot at you?"
The big wheelwright looked cautiously round, as if in fear of beingoverheard, and then said in a husky whisper:
"Ay, lads, I seen him."
"What was he like, Hicky?" said Tom, who suffered a peculiar kind ofthrill as the wheelwright spoke.
"Somethin' between a big cloud, shape of a man, and a flash of lightningwith a bit o' thunder."
"Get out!" roared Dick. "Why, he's laughing at us, Tom."
"Nay, lads, I'm not laughing. It's just what I seemed to see, and it'most knocked me over."
"It's very queer," said Dick thoughtfully. "But I say, Hicky, what didthe doctor say to your hand? Will it soon get well?"
"Didn't go to the doctor, lad."
"Why, what did you do then?"
"Went to old Mikey Dodbrooke, the bone-setter."
"What did you go to him for?"
"Because it's his trade. He knows how to mend bones better than anydoctor."
"Father says he's an old sham, and doesn't understand anything aboutit," said Dick. "You ought to have gone to the doctor, or had him, sameas Mr Marston did."
"Tchah!" ejaculated Hickathrift. "Why, he had no bones broken. Doctorsdon't understand bone-setting."
"Who says so?"
"The bone-setter."
"Well, is it getting better, Hicky?"
"Oh yes! It ar'n't very bad. Going down to the drain?"
"Yes. Mr Marston's found a curious great piece of wood, and the menare digging it out."
"Don't stop late, my lads," said the wheelwright, anxiously. "Iwouldn't be coming back after dark when the will-o'-the-wisps is out."
"I don't believe all that stuff, Hicky," said Dick. "Father says--"
"Eh! What does he say?" cried the wheelwright, excitedly.
"That he thinks it's one of Mr Marston's men who has a spite againsthim, and that when there was that shot the other night, it was meant forthe engineer."
"Hah! Yes! Maybe," said the wheelwright, drawing a long breath andlooking relieved. "But I wouldn't stop late, my lads."
"We shall stop just as long as we like, sha'n't we, Tom?"
"Yes."
"Then I shall come and meet you, my lads. I sha'n't be happy till I seeyou back safe."
"I say, Hicky, you've got a gun, haven't you?" said Tom.
"Eh! A goon!" cried the wheelwright, starting.
"Yes; you've got one?"
"An old one. She's roosty, and put awaya. I heven't hed her out foryears."
"Clean it up, and bring it, Hicky," said Dick. "We may get a shot atsomething. I say, you'd lend me that gun if I wanted it, wouldn't you?"
"Nay, nay; thou'rt not big enew to handle a goon, lad. Wait a bit forthat."
"Come along, Tom!" cried Dick. "And I say, Hicky, bring theforge-bellows with you, so as we can blow out the will's light if hecomes after us."
"Haw--haw--haw--haw!" rang out like the bray of a donkey with a badcold; and Jacob, Hickathrift's lad, threw back his head, and roared tillhis master gave him a sounding slap on the back, and made him close hismouth with a snap, look serious, and go on with his work.
"Jacob laughs just like our old Solemn-un, sometimes," said Dickmerrily. "Come along!"
The morning was hot, but there was a fine brisk breeze from off the sea,and the lads trudged on, talking of the progress of the drain, and theway in which people grumbled.
"Father says that if he had known he wouldn't have joined theadventure," said Tom.
"And my father says, the more opposition there is, the more he shall goon, for if people don't know what's good for them they've got to betaught. There's a beauty!"
Dick went off in chase of a swallow-tail butterfly--one of the beautifulinsects whose home was in the fens; but after letting him come veryclose two or three times, the brightly-marked creature fluttered offover the treacherous bog, a place of danger for followers, of safety forthe insect.
"That's the way they always serve you," said Dick.
"Well, you don't want it."
"No, I don't want it. Yes I do. Mr Marston said he should like a fewmore to put in his case. I say, they are getting on with the drain,"Dick continued, as he shaded his eyes and gazed at where, a mile away,the engineer's men were wheeling peat up planks, and forming a longembankment on either side of the cutting through the fen.
"Can you see Mr Marston from here?"
"Why, of course not! Come along! I say, Tom, you didn't think what oldHicky said was true, did you?"
"N-n-no. Of course not."
"Why, you did. Ha--ha--ha! That's what father and Mr Marston callsuperstition. I shall tell Mr Marston that you believe inwill-o'-the-wisps."
"Well, so do you. Who can help believing in them, when you see themgoing along over the fen on the soft dark nights!"
"Oh, I believe in the lights," said Dick, "but that's all I don'tbelieve they shot Mr Marston and old Hicky; that's all stuff!"
"Well, somebody shot them, and my father says it ought to be found outand stopped."
"So does mine; but how are you going to find it out? He thinkssometimes it's one and sometimes another; and if we wait long enough, mygentleman is sure to be caught."
"Ah, but is it a man?"
"Why, you don't think it's a woman, do you?"
"No, of course not; but mightn't it be something--I mean one of the--well, you know what I mean."
"Yes, I know what you mean," cried Dick--"a ghost--a big tall whiteghost, who goes out every night shooting, and has a will-o'-the-wisp oneach side with a lantern to show him a light."
"Ah, it's all very well for you to laugh now out in the sunshine; but ifit was quite dark you wouldn't talk like that."
"Oh yes, I should!"
"I don't believe it," said Tom; "and I'll be bound you were awfullyfrightened when Hicky was shot. Come, tell the truth now--weren't you?"
"There goes a big hawk, Tom. Look!" cried Dick, suddenly becominginterested in a broad-winged bird skimming along just over the surfaceof the fen; and this bird sufficed to change the conversation, which wasgetting unpleasant for Dick, till they came to the place where the menwere hard at work on the huge ditch, the boggy earth from which, piledup as it was, serving to consolidate the sides and keep them fromflooding the fen when the drain was full, and the high-tide preventedthe water from coming out by the flood-gates at the end.
Mr Marston welcomed the lads warmly.
"I've got a surprise for you," he said.
"What is it--anything good?" cr
ied Dick.
"That depends on taste, my boy. Come and see."
He led the way along the black ridge of juicy peat, to where, in anoblique cutting running out from the main drain, a dozen men were atwork, with their sharp spades cutting out great square bricks of peat,and clearing away the accumulations of hundreds of years from the sidesof what at first appeared to be an enormous trunk of a tree, but which,upon closer inspection, drew forth from Dick a loud ejaculation.
"Why, it's an old boat!" cried Tom.
"That it is, my lad."
"But how did it come there?" cried Dick, gazing wonderingly at the blacktimber of the ancient craft.
"Who can tell, Dick? Perhaps it floated out of the river at some timewhen there was a flood, and it was too big to move back again, and thepeople in the days when it was used did not care to dig a canal fromhere to the river."
"Half a mile," said Dick.
"No, no. Not more than a quarter."
"But it doesn't look like a fishing-boat," said Dick.
"No, my lad. As far as I can make out, it is the remains of an old wargalley."
"Then it must have belonged to the Danes."
"Danes or Saxons, Dick."
"But the wood's sound," cried Tom. "It can't be so old as that."
"Why not, Tom? Your people dig out pine-roots, don't they, perfectlysound, and full of turpentine? This is pine wood, and full ofturpentine too."
"But it's such a while since the Danes and Saxons were here, MrMarston," said Tom.
"A mere yesterday, my lad, compared to the time when the country abouthere was a great pine and birch forest, before this peat began to form."
"Before the peat began to form!"
"To be sure! Pine and birch don't grow in peaty swamps, but in sandyground with plenty of gravel. Look all about you at the scores of greatpine-roots my men have dug out. They are all pine, and there must havebeen quite a large forest here once."
"And was that farther back?"
"Perhaps thousands of years before the Danes first landed. The peatpreserves the wood, Tom. Bog is not rotten mud, but the decayed massesthat have grown in the watery expanse. Well, Dick, what do you think ofit?"
"I wish we could get it home to our place to keep as a curiosity?"
"But it would want a shed over it, my lad, for the rain, wind, and sunwould soon make an end of it."
"Then, what are you going to do?"
"Get it out and up that slope they are cutting, along some planks if wecan, and then fill up the trench."
The lads inspected the curious-looking old hull, whose aspect seemed tobring up recollections of the history of early England, whenfierce-looking men, half sailors, half warriors, came over from theNorland in boats like this, propelled by great oars, and carrying ashort thick mast and one sail. All the upper portions had rotted away,but enough of the hull remained to show pretty well what its shape musthave been, and that it had had a curiously-projecting place that musthave curved out like the neck of a bird, the whole vessel having borne arough resemblance to an elongated duck or swan.
The boys were, however, by no means so enthusiastic as the engineer; andas a great figure came looming up behind them, Dick was ready enough towelcome the incident of the man's reminder about the disturbance at theToft.
"We're mates, we are," cried the great fellow, holding out his broadhairy hand to take Dick's in his grasp, and shake it steadily up anddown. "I heven't forgot, I heven't forgot."
"Are you all right again, Bargle?" said Dick, trying in vain toextricate his hand.
"Yeees. Knock o' the yead don't hot me. See here."
He slowly drew out of his pocket a great piece of dark-yellow ivory,evidently the point, and about a foot in length, of the tusk of someanimal, probably an elephant.
"Theer's what I promised you, lad. That's a tush, that is. What yerthink o' that?"
Dick did not seem to know what to think of it, but he expressed hisgratitude as well as he could, and had to shake hands again and againwith the great fellow, who seemed to take intense delight in smiling atDick and shaking his head at him.
How long this scene would have lasted it is impossible to say; but atlast, as it was growing irksome, there came a shout from the end of thedrain.
"They've found something else," said Mr Marston; and the lads needed notelling to hasten their steps, for the finding of _something_ buried inthe peat could not fail to prove interesting; but in this case thediscovery was startling to the strongest nerves.
As they neared the end of the drain where the men were slowly delvingout the peat, and a section of the bog was before them showing abouttwelve feet of, the wet black soil, Mr Marston stepped eagerly forward,and the group of men who were standing together opened out to let himand his companions pass through.
Dick shuddered at the object before him: the figure of a man clothedapparently in some kind of leather garb, and partly uncovered from theposition it had occupied in the peat.
"Some un been murdered and berrid," growled Bargle, who was closebehind.
"No, my man," said Mr Marston, taking a spade and cutting down somemore of the turf, so as to lay bare the figure from the middle of thethigh to the feet.
"Lemme come," growled Bargle, striding forward and almost snatching thesharp spade from his leader's hand.
"Don't hurt it," cried Mr Marston, giving way.
"Nay, no fear o' hotting him," growled Bargle, grinning, and, bending tohis work, he deftly cut away the black peat till the figure stood beforethem upright in the bog as if fitted exactly in the face of the sectionlike some brownish-black fossil of a human being.
It was the figure of a man in a leather garb, and wearing a kind ofgaiters bound to the legs by strips of hide which went across and acrossfrom the instep to far above the knee. There was a leathern girdleabout the waist, and one hand was slightly raised, as if it had held astaff or spear, but no remains of these were to be seen. Probably thehead had once been covered, but it was bare now, and a quantity of longshaggy hair still clung to the dark-brown skin, the face being halfcovered by a beard; and, in spite of the brown-black leathery aspect ofthe face, and the contracted skin, it did not seem half so horrible asmight have been supposed.
"Why, boys," said Mr Marston after a long examination, "this might bethe body of someone who lived as long back as the date when that oldgalley was in use."
"So long back as that!" cried Dick, looking curiously at the strangefigure, whose head was fully six feet below the surface of the bog.
"Got a-walking across in the dark, and sinked in," said Bargle gruffly.
That might or might not have been the case. At any rate there was thebody of a man in a wonderful state of preservation, kept from decay bythe action of the peat; and, judging from the clothing, the body musthave been in its position there for many hundred years.
"What's got to be done now?" said Bargle. "We want to get on."
Mr Marston gave prompt orders, which resulted in a shallow grave beingdug in the peat about fifty yards from where the drain was being cut,and in this the strange figure was carefully laid, ready for exhumationby any naturalist who should wish to investigate farther; and after thiswas done, and a careful search made for remains of weapons or coins, thecutting of the drain progressed; till, after an enjoyable day with theengineer, the boys said good-bye, and tried to escape without having toshake hands with Bargle.
But this was not to be. The big fellow waylaid them, smiling andholding out his hand to Dick for a farewell grip, and a declaration thatthey were mates.
About half-way back, and just as it was growing toward sundown, theywere met by Hickathrift, who came up smiling, and looking like a Barglecarefully smoothed down.
"Thought I'd see you safe back," said Hickathrift so seriously that afeeling of nervousness which had not before existed made the boys glanceround and look suspiciously at a reed-bed on one side and a patch ofalders on the other.
"What are you talking like that for?" cr
ied Dick angrily; "just as if wecouldn't walk along here and be quite safe! What is there to mind?"
The wheelwright shook his head and looked round uneasily, as if he toofelt the influence of coming danger; but no puff of smoke came fromclump of bushes or patch of reeds; no sharp report rose from the aldersthat fringed part of the walk, and they reached the wheelwright'scottage without adventure.
Here Hickathrift began to smile in a peculiar way, and, having only onehand at liberty, he made use of it to grip Dick by the arm, and use himas if he were an instrument or tool for entrapping Tom, with the resultthat he packed them both into his cottage, and into the presence of hiswife, who was also smiling, as she stood behind a cleanly-scrubbedtable, upon which was spread a tempting-looking supper.
"Here, Hicky, don't! What do you mean?" cried Dick, whom the greatfellow's grip punished.
"Wittles," said the wheelwright, indulging in a broad grin.
"Oh, nonsense! We're off home. Tom Tallington's going to have supperwith me."
"Nay, he's going to hev his supper here along o' uz," said Hickathrift."Didn't I say, missus, I'd bring 'em home?"
"Yes, Mester Dick," cried Mrs Hickathrift; "and thank ye kindly, dostop."
"Oh, but we must get back!" cried Dick, who shrank from partaking of thewheelwright's kindly hospitality.
"Theer, I towd you so," cried Mrs Hickathrift to her husband, andspeaking in an ill-used tone. "They're used to table-cloths, andsquire's wife's got silver spoons."
"Nay, nay, never mind the cloths and spoons, Mester Dick; stop and havea bite."
"But, Hicky--"
"Nay, now," cried the wheelwright interrupting; "don't thee say thou'rtnot hungry."
"I wasn't going to," said Dick, laughing, "because I am horribly hungry.Aren't you, Tom?"
Tom showed his teeth. It was meant for a smile, but bore a wonderfulresemblance to a declaration of war against the food upon the table.
"Don't be proud, then, lad. Stop. Why, you nivver knew me say Iwouldn't when I've been at your place."
That appeal removed the last objection, and the boys took off theircaps, sat down with the wheelwright, and Mrs Hickathrift, according tothe custom, waited upon them.
It is unnecessary to state what there was for supper, and how many timesDick and Tom had their plates replenished with--never mind what--and--itdoes not signify. Suffice it to say that for the space of half an hourthe wheelwright's wife was exceedingly busy; and when at the end of anhour the trio rose from the table, and Hickathrift filled his pipe, bothof his visitors seemed as if they had gone through a process of taming.For though a boy--a hearty boy in his teens--living say anywhere, can,as a rule, eat, in the exception of boys of the old fen-land, where theeastern breezes blow right off the German Ocean, they were troubled withan appetite which was startling, and might have been condemned but forthe fact that it resulted in their growing into magnificent specimens ofhumanity, six feet high not being considered particularly tall.
It was quite late when the boys reached the Toft, to find the squirestanding outside smoking his pipe and waiting for them.
"Where have you been, lads?" he said; and on being told, he uttered agood-humoured grunt, and laying his hand upon Tom's shoulder, "Here," hesaid, "you'd better stop with Dick to-night. They won't be uneasy athome?"
"No, sir," said Tom naively; "I told father perhaps I should stay."
"Oh, you did, eh!" said the squire. "Well, you're welcome. If youdon't want any supper, you'd better be off to bed."
Both lads declared that they did not want any supper, but Mrs Winthorpehad made certain preparations for them which they could not resist, andsomething very like a second meal was eaten before they retired for thenight.
As a rule, when one boy has a visitor for bed-fellow, it is some timebefore there is peace in that room. Set aside unruly demonstrationswhose effects are broken pillowcase strings, ruptured bolsters, andloose feathers about the carpet, if nothing worse has happened in theway of broken jugs and basins, there is always something else to say atthe end of the long conversation upon the past day's occurrences or themorrow's plans.
But in this instance it was doubtful whether Dick fell asleep in the actof getting into bed, or whether Tom was nodding as he undressed; sufficeit that the moment their heads touched pillows they were fast asleep,and the big beetle which flew in at the open window and circled aboutthe room had it all to himself. Now he ground his head against theceiling, then he rasped his wings against the wall, then he buzzed inone corner, burred in another, and banged himself up against the whitedimity curtains, till, seeing what appeared to be a gleam of light inthe looking-glass, he swept by the open window, out of which he couldeasily have passed, and struck himself so heavily against the mirrorthat he fell on the floor with a pat, and probably a dint in his steelyblue armour.
Then came a huge moth, and almost simultaneously a bat, to whirr roundand round over the bed and along the ceiling, while from off the darkwaters of the fen came from time to time strange splashings and uncouthcries, which would have startled a wakeful stranger to these parts. Nowand then a peculiar moan would be heard, then what sounded like adismal, distant roaring, followed by the cackling of ducks, andplaintive whistlings of ox-birds, oyster-catchers, and sandpipers, allof which seemed to be very busy hunting food in the soft stillness ofthe dewy night.
But neither splash nor cry awakened the sleepers, who were, like BarneyO'Reardon, after keeping awake for a week; when they went to sleep theypaid "attintion to it," and the night wore on till it must have been oneo'clock.
The bat and the moth had managed to find their way out of the openwindow at last, and perhaps out of malice had told another bat andanother moth that it was a delightful place in there. At all eventsanother couple were careering about, the moth noisily brushing its wingsagainst wall and ceiling, the bat silently on its fine soft leatherwings, but uttering a fine squeak now and then, so thin, and sharp, andshrill that, compared to other squeaks, it was as the point of a fineneedle is to that of a tenpenny nail.
The beetle had got over the stunning blow it had received, to someextent, and had carefully folded up and put away its gauzy wings beneaththeir hard horny cases, deeming that he would be better off and safer ifhe walked for the rest of the night, and after a good deal of awkwardprogression he came to the side of the bed.
It was a hot night, and some of the clothes had been kicked off, so thatthe counterpane on Tom's side touched the floor. In contact with thispiece of drapery the beetle came, and began to crawl up, taking his timepretty well, and finally reaching the bed.
Here he turned to the left and progressed slowly till he reached thepillow, which he climbed, and in a few more moments found himself infront of a cavern in a forest--a curiously designed cavern, with a cosyhole in connection with certain labyrinths.
This hole seemed just of a size to suit the beetle's purpose, and heproceeded to enter for the purpose of snuggling up and taking a goodlong nap to ease the dull aching he probably felt in his bruised head.
But, soundly as Tom Tallington slept, the scriggly legs of a beetle wererather too much when they began to work in his ear, and he started upand brushed the creature away, the investigating insect falling on thefloor with a sharp rap.
Tom sat listening to the sounds which came through the window and heardthe splashing of water in the distance, and the pipings and quackings ofthe wild-fowl; but as he leaned forward intently and looked through theopen window at the starry sky, there were other noises he heard whichmade him think of sundry occasions at home when he had been awakened bysimilar sounds.
After a few moments he lay down again, but started up directly, got outof bed, and went to the window to listen.
The next minute he was back at the bed-side.
"Dick," he whispered, shaking him; "Dick!"
"What is it?"
"There's something wrong with the horses."
"Nonsense!"
"There is, I tell you. Sit up and liste
n."
"Oh, I say, what a nuisance you are! I was having such a dream!"
Dick sat up and listened, and certainly a sound came from the yard.
He jumped out of bed and went with Tom to the open window, but all wasperfectly still round the house, and he was about to return to bed whena dim shadowy-looking creature flew silently across the yard.
Dick uttered a peculiar squeak which was so exactly like that of a mousethat the bird curved round in its flight, came rapidly up toward thewindow, and hovered there with extended claws, and its great eyesstaring from its full round face.
The next moment it was flying silently away, but another shrill squeakbrought it back to hover before them, staring in wonder, till,apparently divining that it was being imposed upon, it swooped away.
"What a big owl!" said Tom in a whisper. "There! Hear that?"
Dick did hear _that_! A low whinnying noise, and the blow given by ahorse's hoof, as if it had stamped impatiently while in pain.
Directly after there was a mournful lowing from the direction of thecow-house, followed by an angry bellow.
"That's old Billy," said Dick. "What's the matter with the things!It's a hot night, and some kind of flies are worrying them. Here, let'sget to bed."
He was moving in the direction of the bed; but just then there wasanother louder whinnying from the lodge where the cart-horses were kept,and a series of angry stamps, followed by a bellow from the bull.
"There is something wrong with the beasts," said Dick. "I'll callfather. No, I won't. Perhaps it's nothing. Let's go down and see."
"But we should have to dress."
"No; only slip on our trousers and boots. You'll go with me, won'tyou?"
"Yes, I'll go," said Tom; "but I don't want to."
"What! after waking me up to listen!"
"Oh, I'll go!" said Tom, following his companion's lead and beginning todress.
"Tell you what," said Dick; "we'll get out of the window and drop down."
"And how are we to get back?"
"Short ladder," said Dick laconically. "Come along. Ready?"
"Yes, I'm ready."
The boys moved to the window, and, setting the example, Dick placed oneleg out, and was seated astride the sill, when the bed-room door wassuddenly thrown open, and the squire appeared.
"Now, then! What does this mean?" he cried angrily.
"We heard something wrong with the beasts, father, and we were going tosee," cried Dick.
"Heard something wrong with the beasts, indeed! Yes, and I heardsomething wrong with them. Now, then, both of you jump into bed, and ifI hear another sound, I'll--"
The squire stopped short, for there was a piteous whinny from the stableagain.
"There, father! and old Billy's got something the matter with him too,"cried Dick eagerly, the bull endorsing his statement with a melancholybellow.
"Why, there is something wrong, then, my boys!" said the squire, angrynow with himself for suspecting them of playing some prank. "Here,let's go down."
He led the way directly, and lit a lantern in the kitchen beforethrowing back the bolts and going out, armed with a big stick, the boysfollowing close behind, and feeling somewhat awe-stricken at thestrangeness of the proceedings.
"Hullo, my lads, what is it then?" cried the squire, entering the roughstable, where three horses were fastened up, and all half lying in thestraw.
One of them turned to him with a piteous whinny, and then the great softeyes of all three of the patient beasts were turned toward them, thelight gleaming upon their eyes strangely.
"Why, what's this?" cried the squire, holding down the lantern, whoselight fell upon the hocks of the poor beasts. "Oh, it's too cruel! whatsavage has done this!"
As he held down the light the boys hardly realised what had happened.All they could make out was that the light gleamed horribly on thehorses' hind-legs, and Dick exclaimed:
"Why, they must have been kicking, father, terribly!"
"Kicking, my boy!" groaned the squire. "I wish they had kicked themonster to death who has done this."
"Done this! Has anybody done this?" faltered Dick, while Tom turnedquite white.
"Yes; don't you understand?"
"No, father," cried Dick, looking at him vacantly.
"The poor beasts have been houghed--hamstrung by some cruel wretch.Here, quick!"
He hurried across to the lodge where a favourite cow and the bull weretethered, and as he saw that these poor beasts had been treated in thesame barbarous way--
"Did you hear or see anyone, Dick?" he cried, turning sharply on hisson.
"No, father. I was asleep till Tom woke me, and told me that the beastswere uneasy."
"It is too cruel, too cruel," groaned the squire huskily. "What is tohappen next? Here, go and call up the men. You, Tom Tallington, go androuse up Hickathrift. We may be in time to catch the wretches who havedone this. Quick, boys! quick! And if I do--"
He did not finish his sentence; but as the boys ran off he walked intothe house, to return with his gun, and thus armed he made a hasty surveyof the place.
By the time he had done, Dick was back with the men, and soon after,Hickathrift came panting up, with Tom; but though a hot search wascarried on for hours, nothing more was found, and by breakfast-time fivereports had rung out on the bright morning air, as Squire Winthorpeloaded his old flint-lock gun with a leaden bullet five times, and putthe poor helpless suffering brutes out of their misery.
"Three good useful horses, and the best-bred bull and cow in the marsh,squire," said Farmer Tallington, who had come over as soon as he heardthe news. "Any idea who it could be?"
"No," said the squire; "thank goodness, no. I don't want to find outthe wretch's name, Tallington, for I'm a hot-tempered, passionate man."
"It's the drain, neighbour, the drain," said the farmer, shaking hishead. "Let's be content with the money we've lost, and try to put astop to proceedings before we suffer more and worse. There's them aboutas hev sworn the drain sha'n't be made, and it's the same hands thatfired my stacks and those shots, neighbour."
"I daresay it is, farmer," said the squire sternly; "but do you knowwhat it says in the Book about the man who puts his hand to the plough?"
"Ay, I think I know what you mean."
"And so do you, Dick?" said the squire.
"Yes, father."
"Well, my boy, I've put my hand to the plough to do a good, honest,sensible work, and, knowing as I do, that it's a man's duty to go onwith it, I shall stand fast, come what may."
"And not leave me in the lurch, Mr Winthorpe?" said a voice.
"No, Marston, not if they hamstring me in turn," cried the squire,holding out his hand to the young engineer, who had hurried over. "Isuppose I shall get a bullet in me one of these days; but never mind,we've begun the drain. And do you hear, all of you?" he shouted;"spread it about that the fen will be drained, and that if they killedme, and a hundred more who took my place, it would still be done."
Dick o' the Fens: A Tale of the Great East Swamp Page 14