"On your honour, d.i.c.k?" said his father, gazing at him searchingly.

"On my honour, father."

"That will do," said the squire in a short decisive tone. "I must own that I thought you two knew something of the matter. I suspected you before that meddling, chattering idiot shared my ideas. But now there's an end to it, and I shall go to work to find out who is fighting against us, since I am sure that you two boys are quite innocent. That will do."

"Father doesn't believe me," said d.i.c.k bitterly as soon as they were alone.

"Nonsense!" cried Tom. "Why, he said he did."

"Yes, but I could see it in his eyes that he did not I know his looks so well, and it does seem so hard."

As if to endorse d.i.c.k's fancy, the squire pa.s.sed them an hour afterwards in the garden and there was a heavy frown upon his countenance as he glanced for a moment at his son, who was, of course, perfectly ignorant of the fact that his father was so intent upon the troubles connected with the drain, and the heavy loss which would ensue if the scheme failed, that he did not even realise the presence of his boy.

It was enough, though, for d.i.c.k; and he turned to his companion.

"There," he said, "what did I tell you? Father doesn't believe me. But I know what I'll do."

"What will you do--run away from home?" said Tom.

"Like a coward, and make him feel sure that I knew all this and told a lie. No, I won't. I'll just show him."

"Show him what?"

"That I'm innocent."

"Yes, that's all very well; but how are you going to do it?"

"Find out the people and let him see."

"Yes, but how?" cried Tom eagerly, as he knocked an apple off one of the trees and tried to take a bite, but it was so hard and green that he jerked it away.

"I don't know yet; but someone does all these cowardly things, and I mean to find it out before I've done."

"Oh, I am disappointed!" said Tom dolefully.

"Disappointed! Why? Won't you help me?"

"Yes, I will. But I thought we were going to find an island of our own somewhere out in the mere, where no one ever goes, and have no end of fun."

"And so we will," said d.i.c.k eagerly. "We could keep it secret, and there would be the sort of place to be and watch."

"What, out there?"

"To be sure! Whoever does all this mischief comes in a boat, I'm sure of that, and he wouldn't suspect us of watching, and so we could catch him."

Tom screwed up his face in doubt, but the idea of starting a sort of home out there in the middle of the wild fen-land had its fascinations, and the plan was discussed for long enough before they parted that day.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

ANOTHER TRIP.

The two lads had left the grammar-school in the county town about a year before in consequence of a terrible outbreak of fever; and, Mrs Winthorpe declaring against their going back, they had been kept at home. But though several plans had been proposed of sending them for another year's education somewhere, the time had glided by, the business of the draining had cropped up, and as the lads proved useful at times, the school business kept on being deferred, to the delight of both, the elongated holiday growing greatly to their taste. Even though they were backward from a more modern point of view, they were not losing much, for they were acquiring knowledge which would be useful to them in their future careers, and in addition growing bone and muscle such as would make them strong men.

Hence it was that the time glided pleasantly on, with the two lads finding plenty of opportunities for the various amus.e.m.e.nts which gratified them when not occupied in some way about the farms.

It was a few days after the conversation with the squire that Tom proposed a turn after the fish in Hickathrift's boat.

"We could pole ourselves without Dave; and let's ask Mr Marston to come. It's a long time since he has had a holiday."

d.i.c.k's brow was overcast, and he wore generally the aspect of a boy who had partaken of baking pears for a week, but his face cleared at this, and he eagerly joined in the plan.

"We'll get Hicky to lend us his boat, and pole down as far as we can, and then run across to Mr Marston."

Their preparations did not take long, and though they were made before they knew whether they could have the punt, they did not antic.i.p.ate any objections, and they were right.

Hickathrift was busy sawing, but he looked up with a broad grin, and leaving his work went down with them to the water side.

"Course I'll lend it to you, lads," he said. "Wish I could come wi'

you."

"Do, then, Hicky. It's a long time since we've had a fish."

"Nay; don't ask me," was the reply. "I wean't leave the work. Ay, bud it's nice to be a boy," he added, with a smile.

"Couldn't you do your work afterward?" cried Tom.

"Nay, nay, don't tempt a poor weak fellow," he cried. "I'm going to do that bit o' sawing 'fore I leave it. Now, theer, in wi' you!"

The boys made another appeal to the great fellow to come; but he was staunch. Still he uttered a sigh of relief as he gave the punt a tremendous thrust from the bank into deep water, where it went rustling by the willow boughs and over the wild growth where the pink-blossomed persicaria sent up its pretty heads.

"If we had pressed Hicky a little more, I believe he would have come,"

said d.i.c.k.

"No, he wouldn't. He never will when he says he won't."

Just at that moment Hickathrift was muttering to himself on the bank, as he watched the boat.

"Straange thing," he said, "that a girt big man like I am should allus feel like a boy. I wanted to go wi' they two straange and badly. I will go next time."

Taking it in turns, the boys sent the punt quickly over the amber water, the exercise in the bright sunshine chasing the clouds from d.i.c.k's countenance, so that before they reached their intended landing-place on the edge of the mere, as near as they could go to the spot where Mr Marston's men were at work, he was once more his old self, laughing, reckoning on the fish they would catch with the trimmers that lay ready, and forgetting for the time all about the plots to injure the drain and its projectors.

There was a low patch of alders at the spot where they intended to land, and d.i.c.k was just about to run the punt close in, when he suddenly ceased poling and stood motionless staring before him.

"What's the matter?" cried Tom.

There was no answer, in fact none was needed, for at that moment Tom's eyes fell upon the object which had arrested his companion's action, to wit, the flabby, unpleasant-looking face of Thorpeley, the constable, that individual being seated by the low bushes smoking his pipe in a position where he must have been watching the lads ever since they started.