“Yes,” said Dick’s father; and the change being made, the three boats were now propelled over the sunlit water, where, as the lad gladly applied himself to the food he had left behind, he learned something of what had taken place during the night.
Hickathrift was his informant, for the squire was very stern and silent, and Mr Marston was in one of the other boats, which were manned by drain-men and farm-labourers, and had for leaders Farmer Tallington and the engineer, while many were armed with muskets.
“Is Tom there?” said Dick in a whisper.
“Ay, lad, he’s theer,” said the big wheelwright, “along o’ Mr Marston.”
And then in answer to questions he related that Mr Marston had been over at the Toft, and stopped up watching with the squire for Dick’s return, dropping asleep at last, and then awakening suddenly to hear a strange noise among the fowls.
The squire went out, followed by Mr Marston, and the truth was before them.
“The big stack was afire!” whispered Hickathrift, “and burning so as they knew it would be impossible to put it out, and just as they realised the terrible state of affairs there was the sound of a shot, and then of another and another from somewhere down among the cottages, and directly after the beating of feet, and a party of the labourers hurried up, startled from their beds.
“‘Your turn now, squire,’ I says to him,” whispered the wheelwright.
“‘Ay,’ he says, ‘my turn now. Who fired that shot?’
“‘Oh! some un here,’ I says. ‘We thought we seed him as did it going off in the poont, but it was so dark we couldn’t be sure.’