“I shall,” said Dick. “Will you come?”
“Do you mean by that to say that I am a donkey?” cried Tom half angrily.
“Yes, when you talk such stupid nonsense. Just as if I couldn’t get through any bog out here in the fen. Anyone would think I was a child.”
“Well, don’t get lost,” said Tom; “but I must go now.”
The boys parted, with the promise that Tom was to come over from Grimsey to breakfast the next morning but one, well provided with lunch; that in the interim Dick was to arrange with Hickathrift about his punt, and that then they were to have a thoroughly good long exploring day, right into some of the mysterious parts of the fen, Dick’s first journey being so much scouting ready for the following day’s advance.
As soon as Dick was left alone he strolled down to the wheelwright’s, having certain plans of his own to exploit.
“Well, Hicky, nearly got all right?” he said.
“Nay, nay, lad, and sha’n’t be for a twelvemonth,” replied the great bluff fellow, staring at his newly-erected cottage. “Taks a deal o’ doing to get that streight. How is it you’re not over at the works?”
“Not wanted for a bit. I say, Hicky, may I have the punt to-morrow?”
“Sewerly, Mester Dick, sewerly. I’ll set Jacob to clear her oot a bit for you. Going fishing?”