“Why, of course he did,” cried Dick, running down to the boat. “Now, then, Dave, what’s it to be?”
“Oh, nowt, Mester Dick! I thought to put a net in, and a pole or two, and ask if you’d care to go and get a few fish, but Mester Marston’s too fine a gentleman to care for ought o’ the sort.”
“Oh, no, I’m not!” said Marston. “I should enjoy it, boys, above all things.”
“There, Dave, now then! What is it—a drag-net?”
“Nay, Mester Dick, on’y a bit of a new.”
“But where are you going?”
“I thowt o’ the strip ’tween Long Patch and Bootherboomp’s Roostens.”
“Here, stop a moment,” cried the engineer. “I’ve heard that name before. Who was Mr Bootherboomp?”
“Hi—hi—hi! hecker—hecker—hecker. Heigh!”
That does not express the sounds uttered by Dave, for they were more like an accident in a wooden clock, when the wheels run down and finish with a jerk which breaks the cogs. But that was Dave’s way of laughing, and it ended with a horrible distortion of his features.