Solomon’s attention was taken up by Dick, and he did not perceive Grip coming up at full speed till, with a rush, the dog made a bound at him, and sent him towards Dick, who was dragging at the reins.
Grip seemed to enjoy the donkey’s astonishment as it backed from him and then wheeled sharply round to deliver a goodly kick; but before this could be planted satisfactorily, Dick had mounted and began tugging at the reins and drumming with his heels in a way there was no resisting, so Solomon went off at a gallop and Grip followed his master.
At the end of a mile Tom had been passed, and Dick drew up by the first scrubby willow he reached, to tie up the donkey and leave it for his friend; but a glance back showed him the constable returning toward the Toft, so the boy stood leaning over Solomon’s back, waiting.
“I don’t want to ride,” he said to himself. “Tom can have the donkey, and I’ll walk.”
“Why didn’t you go on?” cried Tom, as he came up with a very red face.
“Don’t want to be alone,” replied Dick lazily, as he gazed away over the wide-stretching fen-land with the moist air quivering in the glorious sunshine. “I say, Tom, what a shame it seems!”
“What seems a shame?”
“Corn-fields and pastures and orchards are all very well, but the old fen does look so lovely now!”
“Yes, it does,” said Tom; “and father’s horribly sorry he joined in the draining scheme. He says it’s going to cost heaps of money, and then be no good. But come along.”
“Where?” said Dick.