Dick o' the Fens Part 69

"Don't talk, Hicky," shouted back d.i.c.k. "Is Jacob there?"

"Ay, lad. Why?"

"You'll want help. Look here, send for the doctor."

"Doctor, lad?"

"Yes; I know. Let Jacob go and tell my father, and he'll send down the old cob. Thorpeley's hurt badly."

They heard a low whistle, then the wheelwright's orders given sharply to his apprentice, followed by the dull _thud, thud_ of his boots as he ran off; and directly after the punt glided in and its bow was seized by the big strong hand upon which the soft glowing light of the horn lanthorn shone.

"Hey, but what's the matter with the man?" cried Hickathrift. "We've been wondering why he didn't come back."

"I don't know, only we heard a shot," said d.i.c.k excitedly; "and then we heard someone calling for help, and found him lying ash.o.r.e."

"Let me get a good howd on him," said the wheelwright; and with one foot in the boat he pa.s.sed his great arm under the constable and lifted him out as tenderly as if he had been a child.

But, gentle as was the wheelwright's act, it roused the injured man, who seemed to be driven into a fit of fury by the pain he suffered, and he burst into a torrent of bad language against Hickathrift and the two boys, which he kept up till he had been carried into his lodging and laid upon his bed.

"Hey, lads," said the wheelwright with a low chuckle, as he walked down with the boys to where the lanthorn still hung upon the willow-stump, the care of the constable having been left to the women; "he don't seem to hev lost his tongue."

"But he's very bad, isn't he?" said d.i.c.k anxiously.

"I should say no," replied Hickathrift. "Man who's very badly don't call people."

"But his leg?"

"Ay, that's badly. I give the hankycher a good tighten up, and that hot him, so that he had to howd his tongue."

"That made him hold his tongue, Hicky?"

"Ay, lad. I med him feel that if he didn't shoot his neb, I'd pull tighter, and so he quieted down. Now, tell us all about it."

"Give us some bread and b.u.t.ter first, Hicky; we're nearly starved."

"Hey, lads," cried the wheelwright. "Here, coom in to missus and--"

Hickathrift's speech was cut short by the coming of the squire, who hurried up.

"Here, boys," he cried; "what's all this?"

d.i.c.k told all he knew, and the squire drew a long breath and turned by the light of the lanthorn to gaze first in the lads' faces, and then to speak to the wheelwright.

"This is bad, Hickathrift," he said hoa.r.s.ely.

As he spoke he gazed searchingly at the great workman.

"Ay, squire; it is a straange awkard thing."

Mr Winthorpe gazed in his great frank face again; and then, with his lips compressed, he went to the bed-side of the injured man.

"Bad business," said Hickathrift; "but lads mustn't starve because a constable's shot. Coom along. Here, missus, let's hev bit o'--Nay, she's gone to see the neighbours, and hev a bit o' ruckatongue." [A gossip.]

That did not much matter, for Hickathrift knew the ways of his own house; and in a very short time had placed a loaf and a piece of cold bacon before the hungry boys.

This they attacked furiously, for now that they were relieved of the responsibility of the injured man, their hunger had a.s.serted itself.

But they had not partaken of many mouthfuls before they heard the squire's voice outside, in hurried conversation with Hickathrift.

"Yes, I sent him off directly on the cob," the squire said; "but it must be some hours before the doctor can get here."

"Think he's very badly, squire?" came next, in Hickathrift's deep ba.s.s.

"No, not very bad as to his wound, my lad; but this is a terrible business."

"Ay, mester, it is trubble. Straange thing to hev first one man shot and then another. Say, squire, hope it wean't be our turn next."

"Go on eating, Tom," whispered d.i.c.k, setting the example, and cutting a slice for his companion, while Tom hacked the bread.

"I'm hard at work," said Tom thickly. "I shall eat as much as ever I can, and make mother give Hicky a piece o' chine."

"So will I," said d.i.c.k; "and a couple o' chickens."

The hungry lad had taken a piece of pink-fleshed bacon upon his fork, and was about to transfer it to his mouth, when he stopped short with his lips apart and eyes staring, while Tom let fall his knife and thrust his chair back over the stone floor.

They had been eating and listening to the conversation outside, till it reached its climax in the following words:

"What, man? You don't know what he says."

"What he says!" chuckled the wheelwright. "Ay, I heerd what he said; a whole heap o' bad words till I checked him, and let him feel he'd best howd his tongue."

"But you know what he says about who shot at him?"

"Nay, but if he says as it were me, I'll go and pitch him into the watter."

"You did not hear, then?" cried the squire, huskily. "Hickathrift, he says it was done by those boys!"

"What!" roared the wheelwright.

"It's a lie, father!" shouted d.i.c.k, recovering himself and running out.

"Here, ask Tom."

"Why, of course it's a lie," cried Tom.

"But that man says--" cried the squire.

"Yah!" shouted Hickathrift angrily, "they never shot him; they heven't got no goon."