The two boys got out cautiously; the pole was driven down into the peat, and the boat made fast; and then they paused and listened for the next cry.
Everything now was perfectly silent, not so much as the whisper of a reed or the whir of the wing of a nightbird fell upon their ears; and at last, in an awe-stricken whisper, Tom said:
“Hicky is right. It was something strange from out of the marsh. Let’s get away.”
Dick was stouter-hearted than his companion, and lifting his voice he shouted, and then stood silent.
“Help! help!” came faintly in reply.
“There!” cried Dick turning sharply. “It’s a man.”
“Think so?”
“Why, of course! Come along! Here, I can see where we are now.”
“Yes, I think I know where we are,” whispered Tom. “But is it safe to go after it?”
“You mean after him,” said Dick. “Yes, it’s pretty firm here—yes, it’s all right. We’re amongst heath and bilberry as soon as we get by this bit of bog. Hoy! shout again,” he cried as he plodded on cautiously, with his feet sometimes sinking in the bog, sometimes finding it pretty firm.