“Where was the dog?”
“Over at John Warren’s. Wasn’t well. Nice sort o’ neighbour he is to stop away!”
“But he couldn’t come, Dave,” said Tom in remonstrant tones. “The ice wouldn’t bear anyone but us boys.”
“Why, I’d ha’ swimmed to him,” growled Dave, “if his place had been afire.”
“No you wouldn’t, Dave. You couldn’t when it’s frozen. I say, couldn’t we put anything out?”
“Nay, lads. It must bon right away, and then there’ll be a clear place to build again.”
“But,” cried Dick, “a bucket or two, and we could do a good deal.”
“Boocket’s bont,” said Dave sadly, “and everything else. They might hev left me alone, for I hates the dreerns.”
The trio stood watching the fire, which was rapidly going down now for want of something to burn; but as they stood near, their faces scorched, while the cold wind drawn by the rising heat cut by their ears and threatened to stiffen their backs. The reeds and young trees which had been burning were now smoking feebly, and the only place which made any show was the peat-stack, which glowed warmly and kept crumbling down in cream-coloured ash. But when a fire begins to sink it ceases to be exciting, and as the two lads stood there upon their skates, with their faces burning, the tightness of their straps stopped the circulation, and their feet grew cold.
“I say, Dave,” said Dick just then, “what’s to be done?”