“Haw! haw!”
Hickathrift’s was a curious laugh. At a distance it might have been taken for a hail; but a fine heron standing heel-deep in the shallow water took it to be a cry to scare him, so spreading his great flap wings, and stooping so as to get a spring, he flew slowly off with outstretched legs, while the squire and Farmer Tallington looked back to see if they had been called.
“What are you laughing at?” said Tom angrily.
“Yow, lad, yow. Why, you arn’t big enew to carry a goon; and as for sailing, do you think a ship’s like a punt, and shoved along wi’ a pole!”
“Never mind,” grumbled Tom. “I’m not going to stop here and be suspected for nothing.”
“Nay, nay, don’t you lads talk nonsense.”
“It’s no nonsense, Hicky,” said Dick bitterly. “I’ve made up my mind to go.”
“Nay, nay, I tell thee. Thou wean’t goo, lads.”
“Indeed but we will,” cried Dick energetically.
“What, goo?”