But there was no escape, for he knew that the pursuers would not turn backward, and he glanced helplessly at where he could see Tom Tallington’s face in the farther of the other boats, and responded to his wave of the hand.
There was a stern relentless look in every face he saw, and he thought of how his father and Mr Marston had been shot, how first one and then another had been nearly burned in his bed, while their property was destroyed, and he felt the justice of the severe looks. But all the same there was a lingering liking for Dave, and he felt disposed to stand up in his defence and say it was impossible that he could have done these things, though all the time, as he ran over the matters in his mind, he began to recall various suspicious incidents, and to think that, perhaps, they were right.
One thing buoyed him up though, and that was the thought that they were not going straight to the decoy-man’s hut, and perhaps through this delay he might escape.
It was a vain hope, one which was swept away directly after, for Hickathrift whispered:
“We went straight to his plaäce to try and ketch him, but he slipped away in his poont, and dodged us about in the dark, till Mester Marston held out that he was makking for the far part of the fen, and we followed him theer, but lost all sound on him, and then you know, Mester Dick, we fun you.”
With a stern effort to be firm Dick watched the progress of the punt toward the island that was to have been his abode when he felt huffed at home, and wondered whether Dave were there now.
“He isn’t there,” thought Dick; and he turned to telegraph a look at Tom Tallington, who he felt sure would be as anxious as himself about Dave’s escape.
“Do you want Tom Tallington?” said his father, who, though apparently paying no attention, had noted every exchange of glances.
“Yes, father; there is more room here,” said Dick boldly.
The squire made a sign to Hickathrift, who ceased poling, and the other two boats came up on either side.