“Is it a bird?” whispered Tom.
“No. I never heard a bird cry like that.”
“What is it then—a fox trapped?”
“Nobody would trap the foxes, and it can’t be a rabbit, because that would be a squeal.”
The cry came again over the dark water of the mere, and sounded so strange and weird that Dick shivered.
“It’s something queer,” said Tom huskily. “Take the pole and let’s get away. Don’t make a noise.”
“But—”
“No, no; don’t stop. We don’t know what it is. Perhaps it’s one of those things Hicky talks about that he has heard sometimes.”
“Father says it’s all nonsense, and there are no such things in the fens.”
“He’d better say there are no will-o’-the-wisps to lead people astray,” whispered Tom.