“I heered it too,” cried Jacob, “and wackened the mester.”
“Ay, that’s a true word,” cried Hickathrift. “What does it mean?”
“Hicky,” panted Dick in piteous tones, “I don’t know—I’m afraid I—my father’s out here somewhere.”
“Hey! The squire?” cried Hickathrift with a curious stare at first one and then the other. “Yow don’t think—”
He paused, and Dick replied in a whisper:
“Yes, Hicky, I do.”
“Here, let’s search about; it’s getting light fast. Now, then,” cried the wheelwright, “yow go that way, Jacob; I’ll go this; and you two lads—”
“No, no,” said Dick. “It must be somewhere close by here, near the water. Let’s keep together, please.”
“Aw reight!” muttered the wheelwright; and following Dick they went as close to the water’s edge as they could go, and crept along, with the bushes and trees growing more plain to view, and the sky showing one dull orange fleck as the advance guard of the coming glory of the morn.
They went along for a couple of hundred yards in one direction, but there was nothing to be seen; then a couple of hundred yards in the other direction, but there was nothing visible there. And as the light grew stronger they sought about them, seeing clearly now that the ghastly figure Dick dreaded to find was nowhere as far as they could make out inshore.