“Hey, and what should make you run away from constable, lad?” said Hickathrift severely. “You’ve done nowt to be ’shamed on?”
“No, of course not!” cried Dick, shaking himself free. “Did you meet Tom Tallington?”
“Ay, iver so far-off, trying to stop old Solomon, and he wouldn’t stay.”
Dick nodded and glanced at him; and then, as he ran on again, the lad ground his teeth.
“It’s a shame!” he cried. “Why, old Hicky thinks now that there’s something wrong. I’ll serve that old stupid out for all this; see if I don’t!”
He ran on, getting very hot, and beginning now to abuse Tom Tallington for going so far before he tied up; and at last saw the donkey browsing by the side of a tree, while Tom was well on along the track to the drain, walking as fast as he could go.
Solomon pointed one ear at Dick, as he came up, but took no further notice, being engaged in picking nutriment out of some scraps of as unlikely looking vegetation as could be found in the fen. Perhaps it was the thistly food he ate which had an effect upon his temper and made him the awkward creature he had grown.
“My turn now,” cried Dick, unfastening the rein, which was tightly tied with string to the stout stem of an alder.
Solomon had cocked one ear at his master as he came up. The animal now laid both ears down and began to back so rapidly along the road, keeping the reins at their full stretch, that it was impossible to mount him, and it was evident that a long battle was beginning, in which the ass might win.
Dick, however, found an ally in the shape of Grip, Hickathrift’s lurcher, who had been evidently off on some expedition upon his own account, and was now hastening to overtake his master.