"Howd tight, lad!"

The next moment d.i.c.k felt himself gliding over the soft bog, and directly after Dave had hold of one of his hands and drew him to a place of safety before running back to the rope.

"All together, lads! Haul!"

There was a shout and a tremendous splashing, and d.i.c.k Winthorpe struggled to his feet, wiping the black fluid bog from his eyes, to see Solomon hauled right out, slowly at first, then faster and faster, till he was literally run over the slippery surface to where there was firm ground.

"I got it over his head, then?" said d.i.c.k huskily.

"Ay, lad, and over his legs too," cried Hickathrift, as he bent down and loosened the noose. "Eh, bud it's tight. That's it!"

He dragged the rope off, and the donkey lay perfectly motionless for a few moments, but not with his eyes closed, for he seemed to be glowering round.

"Is he dying, Hicky?" said d.i.c.k.

"Nay, lad; yow can't kill an a.s.s so easy. Seems aw reight. There!"

The last word was uttered as the donkey suddenly struggled up, gave himself a tremendous shake, till his ears rattled again as the bog water flew; and then stretching out his neck as if he were about to bray, he bared his teeth and made a fierce run at the wheelwright.

But Hickathrift struck at him with the rope, and to avoid that, Solomon worked round, made a bite at d.i.c.k, which took effect on his wet coat, tearing a piece right out. Then he swerved round like lightning and threw out his heels at Tom, tossed up his head, and then cantered off, braying as he went, as if nothing had been the matter, and making straight for the yard.

"Well, of all the ungrateful brutes!" cried Tom.

"Ay, we might just as well hev let him get smothered," said the wheelwright, joining in the laughter of the others. "Didn't hurt you, did he, Mester d.i.c.k?"

"No, Hicky. Only tore my coat," replied d.i.c.k, turning reluctantly up to the house, for he was wet and now felt cold.

"I say, d.i.c.k, what about the netting?" cried Tom.

The lad looked piteously at Dave and his companion of the rabbit warren--two inseparable friends--and felt that his chance of seeing the ruffs and reeves captured was very small.

"Are you going--to-day, Dave?" he faltered.

"Nay, lad," said Dave dryly, "yow've had enough o' the bog for one day.

Go and dry thysen. I'll coom and fetch thee to-morrow."

So the lads went up to the house, the men returned to their draining, and the wheelwright walked slowly away with Dave and John Warren.

"Let's run, d.i.c.k," said Tom, who was carrying the rope; "then you won't catch cold."

"Oh, I sha'n't hurt," said d.i.c.k, running all the same; and in pa.s.sing the yard they closed the gate, for Solomon was safe inside; but as they reached the house, where Mrs Winthorpe stood staring aghast at her son's plight, Solomon burst forth with another dismal, loud complaining: "_He-haw_!"

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE FEN-MAN'S WAGES.

Dave did not keep his promise the next day, nor the next; but d.i.c.k Winthorpe had his attention taken up by other matters, for a party of men arrived and stopped with their leaders at the Toft, where they were refreshed with ale and bread and cheese, previous to continuing their journey down to the seaside.

The squire and Farmer Tallington accompanied them down to their quarters, which were to be at a disused farm-house close to the mouth of the little river; and incidentally d.i.c.k learned that this was the first party of labourers who were to cut the new lode or drain from near the river mouth right across the fen; that there was to be a lock with gates at the river end, to let the drain-water out at low tide, and that the banks of the drain were to be raised so as to protect the land at the sides from being flooded.

Fen people from far and wide collected to see the gang, and to watch the surveyors, who, with measuring chain and staves and instruments, busied themselves marking out the direction in which the men were to cut; and these fen people shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders, while more than once, when Squire Winthorpe addressed one or the other, d.i.c.k noticed that they were always surly, and that some turned away without making any answer.

"Never mind, d.i.c.k," said the squire laughing. "Some day when we've given them smiling pastures and corn-fields, instead of water and bog and ague, they will be ashamed of themselves."

"But--"

"Well, but what, sir?" said the squire as the lad hesitated.

"I was only going to say, father, isn't it a pity to spoil the fen?"

The squire did not answer for a few moments, but stood frowning. The severe look pa.s.sed off directly though, and he smiled.

"d.i.c.k," he said gravely, "all those years at a good school, to come back as full of ignorance and prejudice as the fen-men! Shame!"

He walked away, leaving d.i.c.k with his companion Tom Tallington.

"I say," said the latter, "you caught it."

"Well, I can't help it," said d.i.c.k, who felt irritated and ashamed. "It does seem a pity to spoil all the beautiful pools and fishing places, and instead of having beds of reeds full of birds, for there to be nothing but fields and a great ugly drain. Why, the flowers, and b.u.t.terflies, and nesting places will all be swept away. What do we care for fields of corn!"

"My father cares for them, and he says it will be the making of this part of the country."

"Unmaking, he means," said d.i.c.k; and they went on to watch the proceedings of the strange men who had come--big, strong, good-tempered-looking fellows, armed with sharp cutting spades, and for whose use the lads found that a brig had come into the little river, and was landing barrows, planks, and baskets, with a variety of other articles to be used in the making of the drain.

"I'm afraid we shall have some trouble over this business, Tallington,"

said the squire as they went back.

"Well, we sha'n't be the only sufferers," said the farmer good-humouredly. "I suppose all we who have adventured our few pounds will be in the people's black books. But we must go on--we can't stop now."

The next day Tom came over, and the lads went down towards the far-stretching fen, now once more losing a great deal of the water of the flood.

They pa.s.sed the Solemn one apparently none the worse for his bath, for he trotted away from the gate to thrust his head in the favourite corner by the old corbel in the wall, and look back at them, as if as ready to kick as ever.

"Poor old Solomon!" said d.i.c.k laughing, "I should have been sorry if he had been lost."

"Oh, never mind him," cried Tom; "is old Dave coming over to fetch us?

Why, d.i.c.k, look!"

"I can't see anything," said d.i.c.k.

"Because you're not looking the right way. There! Now he's behind that bed of reeds a mile away."

"I see!" cried d.i.c.k. "Why, it is Dave, and he's coming."

The lads ran down to the edge of the fen, and made their way to the end of a long, open, river-like stretch of water, which was now perfectly clear, so that everything could be clearly distinguished at the bottom; and before long, as they walked to and fro, they caught sight of a little shoal of small fish, and soon after of a young pike, with his protruding lower jaw, waiting for his opportunity to make a dash at some unfortunate rudd, whose orange fins and faintly-gilded sides made him a delectable-looking morsel for his olive-green and gold excellency the tyrant of the river.

"He's coming here, isn't he?" said Tom, gazing out anxiously over the reedy waste.