He stopped short.
“Well, what, man? Here, drink!”
“Efter yow, squire,” said the big fellow sturdily. “I tell ye that no mortal man, nor no two men, couldn’t take that punt across to Grimsey in the dark to-night. We should be swept no one knows wheer, and do no good to them as wants the help.”
“But we can’t leave them to drown, man!” cried the squire.
“No; we can’t do that, and we wean’t,” cried Hickathrift. “They’ll get right on the roof if the bed-rooms gets full; and while we’re waiting for day we’ll have the punt hauled up. Jacob’ll howd the light, and I’ll see if I can’t mend the hole. You’ve got a hammer and some nails in the big barn?”
“Yes,” said the squire; “yes, you are right, my man—you are right. Come, Dick: dry clothes.”
There was nothing else to be done; and as the bonfire was kept blazing the punt was hauled up, and in the midst of the howling wind and the rush of the water Dick stood looking on, his heart full as he thought of Tom Tallington asking his help away there in the darkness; while tap, tap, tap went the wheelwright’s hammer, after his saw had rasped off a thin piece of board.
“That’ll do it,” he cried at last; and the punt was placed ready for launching when the day showed.
Meanwhile the squire gave orders for the fire to be kept well alight; and fagots of wood and straw trusses were piled on, with the odds and ends of broken farming implements and worn-out wooden shedding that had been the accumulation of years.
The result was that the flames rose high over the wild weird scene, gilding the wind-tossed pines and staining the flood for far, while there was so much excitement in thus sitting up and keeping the fire blazing that it would have been real enjoyment to Dick had he not been in a constant state of fret and anxiety about his friends.