“Yes, but it was all in the dark, and I couldn’t see who it was.”
“That does not matter, my lad,” said the squire. “We know him now, and we only want to run him down.”
“Know him, father?”
“Yes, boy. It was Dave Gittan.”
“Nonsense!”
Dick burst into a laugh.
“Why, father, his place was burned too!”
“Yes, boy, to throw us off the scent—the scoundrel! but we shall have him now.”
Dick sat down in the punt like one astounded, while Hickathrift poled along the channel till he came to open water, where, just as the sun rose above the horizon, they caught sight of the tied-up boat.
“We’re too many in this,” said Hickathrift, making for the other punt. “You pole this here, and I’ll tak’ mine. Will you come, squire?”