Dick o' the Fens Part 14

"So it is to ride in a cart or on a sled, lad," said Hickathrift good-humouredly; "but I make 'em, and folk rides in 'em and carries things to market."

"Ay, but that's different," said Dave. "Fen-land's fen-land; and you can't dree-ern that."

"You can't dree-ern that," said John Warren, nodding his head in a.s.sent.

"Well, they'll drain these fields, at all events," said Hickathrift.

"Yow can't say they weant do that."

"I say fen-land's fen-land," reiterated Dave, taking off his fox-skin cap and rubbing his ear viciously; "and it can't be dree-ernt."

"Ah! you two are scarred about your 'coy and your rabbud-warren," cried Hickathrift good-humouredly. "I wish they'd dree-ern the whole place and have roads all over it, so as to want carts and wains."

"Nay, they nivver will," said Dave sourly. "Tek to makkin' boats and punts, mun. Them's best."

"Hullo, Dave!" cried d.i.c.k; "how about the ruffs and reeves? You said you'd take me to the netting."

"Well, haven't I come for you, lad?" said Dave quietly.

"Have you? Oh, Tom, and we've got this old stump to draw away! I can't go now, Dave."

"There's plenty o' time, lad. I'm not going back yet Hicky's got to put a bit o' plank in my boat 'fore I go back."

"Come on, Tom, and let's get it done," cried d.i.c.k. "Here, give us the rope."

He took the rope, fastened it to one of the roots, and then joined the traces together, and tied the rope about them.

After this the donkey was turned so that his head was toward the sharp slope, leading to the Priory on the Toft, and a start was made. That is to say, the donkey tightened the traces, stuck his hoofs into the ground, tugged for a minute without moving the stump, and then gave up.

"Why, Mester d.i.c.k, yow'll have to get root on a sled or she weant move."

"Oh, we'll do it directly!" cried d.i.c.k. "Here, Tom, you give a good shove behind. Now, then, pull up!"

Tom thrust with all his might, while d.i.c.k dragged at the donkey's head-stall, and once more, after offering a few objections, Solomon tightened the traces and rope, and tugged with all his might, but the root did not move.

"Yow weant move her like that, I tell you, lad," said Hickathrift.

"Won't I!" cried d.i.c.k angrily; "but I just will. You Tom, you didn't half push."

"Shall I give her a throost?" said the wheelwright, smiling.

That smile annoyed d.i.c.k, who read in it contempt, when it was only prompted by good temper.

"We can do it, thank you," cried d.i.c.k. "Now, Tom, boy, give it a heave.

Pull up, Solomon."

Tom heaved, but Solomon refused to "pull up;" and after his late disappointments, and his discovery that the root was heavier than he, it took a great deal of coaxing to get him to stir. At last, though, just as Hickathrift was coming up good-temperedly to lend his aid, it seemed as if the donkey antic.i.p.ated a tremendous blow from the long staff the wheelwright carried, for he made a plunge, d.i.c.k took tightly hold of the rein and gave it a drag, and Tom sat down on the great root, to follow Hickathrift's example and roar with laughter, in which the men who were delving peat joined, while Dave and John Warren, men who took life in a very solemn manner, actually smiled.

For Solomon's sudden plunge, joined to d.i.c.k's drag at the head-stall, showed that it was quite time a new fit out of harness was provided, inasmuch as the old leather gave way in two or three places, and the donkey, with nothing on but his collar, was off full gallop, feeling himself a slave no longer, while d.i.c.k, after staggering backwards for a yard or two, came down heavily in a sitting position, and in a very wet place.

"Yes, it's all very well to laugh," said d.i.c.k, getting up and looking ruefully at the broken bridle and bit which he held in his hand; "but see how cross father will be."

"And look where old Solomon has gone!" cried Tom. "I say, how are we to catch him? Ha! ha! ha! Only look!"

Everyone but d.i.c.k joined in the laugh, for Solomon was rejoicing in his liberty, and galloping away toward the fen, shaking his head, and kicking out his heels; while every now and then he stretched out his neck, grinned, and bit at the wind, for there was nothing else to bite.

"Nice job we shall have!" grumbled d.i.c.k. "Oh, I say, Tom, we are in a mess."

"Oh, there's nowt the matter, Mester d.i.c.k!" said Hickathrift good-temperedly, as he picked up the broken harness and examined it.

"Why, I could mend all this in less than an hour with some wax-ends and a brad-awl."

"Yes, but will you, Hicky?"

"Of course I will, my lad. Theer, don't look that how. Go and catch the Solemn-un, and me, and Dave, and John Warren'll get the root up to the yard for you."

"Will you, Hicky?" cried the boys joyfully. "Oh, you are a good old fellow! Come on, Tom, and let's catch Solomon."

The harness was thrust aside by the wheelwright, ready to take home, and then at a word the two fen-men came forward, and together they rolled the awkwardly-shaped root over and over toward the farm; while, once satisfied that the pine-root was on its way, d.i.c.k gave his companion a slap on the shoulder, and moistened his hand to get a better grip of his stick.

"Get a stick, Tom," he said. "I don't want to drum old Solomon's ribs; but I'm just in the humour to give it him if he plays any of his tricks."

That was just what the donkey seemed determined upon. He had been shut up for a fortnight in the yard, and hardly knew how to contain himself, as he bounded along in a way he never attempted when he was not free.

There were spots which he knew of where succulent thistles and water plants grew, and after a long course of dry food he meant to enjoy a feast.

The boys shouted as they ran, and tried to get ahead; but the more they shouted the more Solomon kicked up his heels and ran, performing a series of capers that suggested youth instead of extreme old age.

"We shall never get him," cried Tom as he panted along.

"We must catch him," cried d.i.c.k, making a furious rush to head off the frolicsome animal, which seemed as if he thoroughly enjoyed teasing his pursuers.

d.i.c.k was successful in turning the donkey, but not homeward, and he stopped short unwillingly as he saw the course taken.

"I say, d.i.c.k, isn't it soft out there?"

"Soft! Yes. Mind how you go!"

This advice would have been thrown away upon Solomon, though, had he comprehended it, the effect might have been beneficial. For, whatever knowledge the donkey might have possessed about the flood, he did not realise the fact that since he last tickled his palate with the spinous thistle--an herb which probably a.s.sumed to his throat the flavour that pepper does to ours--there had been a considerable depth of water over the fen, and that it was very soft. The result was, that while the lads stopped short, and then began to pick their way from tussock to tussock, and heather patch to patch, Solomon blundered on, made a splash here, a bit of a wallow there, and then a bound, which took him in half-way up his back; and as he plunged and struck out with fore-legs and heels, he churned up the soft bog and made it softer, so that he sank in and in, till only his spine was visible with, at the end, his long neck and great grey head, upon which the ears were c.o.c.ked out forward, while an expression of the most intense astonishment shone out of his eyes.

"Oh, Tom, what shall we do?"

_He-haw_--_he-yaw_--_he-yaw_!

Solomon burst out into the most dismal bray ever heard--a long-drawn misery-haunted appeal for help, which was prolonged in the most astounding way till it seemed to be a shrill cry.

"I don't know," responded Tom, wiping the tears out of his eyes.

"Oh, come, I say," said d.i.c.k, "it isn't anything to laugh at!"

"I know it isn't," cried Tom; "but I can't help it. I feel as if I must laugh, and--Ha! ha! ha!"