Plash, plash through the boggy parts of the mere fringe, for Dick had not paused to follow any track, stumbling among tufts of grass and marsh growth, they hurried on with eager eyes, longing to shout, but afraid, for there was a growing horror upon both the lads of having to be shortly in presence of some terrible scene.
They neither of them spoke, but mutually clung together for support, though all the time there was a strange repugnance in Dick’s breast as he now began to realise the strength of the suspicion he entertained.
But if they dared not shout, there was some one near at hand ready to utter a lusty cry, which startled them as it rang out of the gloom from away down by the labourers’ cottages and the wheelwright’s.
“Ahoy! Hillo!” rang out.
“Hillo, Hicky!” yelled Tom. “Here!”
“Where away, lads?” came back; and then there was the dull low beat of feet, and they heard the wheelwright shout to his apprentice to follow him.
The two little parties joined directly, to stand in the mist all panting and excited, the wheelwright half-dressed, and his bare head rough from contact with the pillow.
“Hey, lads,” he cried, “was that you two shouting?”
Dick tried to speak, but he could not frame a word.
“No; we heard it from somewhere down here,” panted Tom.