"A shot from close by!" cried the squire, excitedly.

"Yes, Mr Winthorpe," said the engineer; "and I'm afraid, greatly afraid, it was meant for me."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

HICKY'S OPINIONS.

"Nay, lads, I don't say as it weer the will-o'-the-wisps, only as it might have been."

"Now, Hicky," cried d.i.c.k, "who ever heard of a will-o'-the-wisp with a gun?"

"Can't say as ever I did," said the wheelwright; "but I don't see why not."

"What stuff! Do you hear what he says, Tom? He says it may have been one 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?" said Hickathrift, stolidly.

"Why, where would he get his powder and shot?" said d.i.c.k.

"Same place as he gets his candle for his lanthorn."

"Oh, but what nonsense! The will-o'-the-wisp is a light that moves about," cried d.i.c.k. "It is not anybody."

"I don't know so much about that," said the wheelwright, lifting up his bandaged hand. "All I know is that something shot at me, and broke my finger just the same as something shot at Mester Marston. They don't like 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 the stong-gad; but they don't like the draining, and you see if it don't come to harm!"

"Nonsense!" cried d.i.c.k. "But I say, Hicky, you are so quiet about it all, did you see who it was shot at you?"

The big wheelwright looked cautiously round, as if in fear of being overheard, and then said in a husky whisper:

"Ay, lads, I seen him."

"What was he like, Hicky?" said Tom, who suffered a peculiar kind of thrill as the wheelwright spoke.

"Somethin' between a big cloud, shape of a man, and a flash of lightning with a bit o' thunder."

"Get out!" roared d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k thoughtfully. "But I say, Hicky, what did the 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 any doctor."

"Father says he's an old sham, and doesn't understand anything about it," said d.i.c.k. "You ought to have gone to the doctor, or had him, same as Mr Marston did."

"Tchah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Hickathrift. "Why, he had no bones broken. Doctors don'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 men are digging it out."

"Don't stop late, my lads," said the wheelwright, anxiously. "I wouldn't be coming back after dark when the will-o'-the-wisps is out."

"I don't believe all that stuff, Hicky," said d.i.c.k. "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 against him, and that when there was that shot the other night, it was meant for the engineer."

"Hah! Yes! Maybe," said the wheelwright, drawing a long breath and looking 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 see you 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 for years."

"Clean it up, and bring it, Hicky," said d.i.c.k. "We may get a shot at something. I say, you'd lend me that gun if I wanted it, wouldn't you?"