“We can do it, thank you,” cried Dick. “Now, Tom, boy, give it a heave. Pull up, Solomon.”
Tom heaved, but Solomon refused to “pull up;” and after his late disappointments, and his discovery that the root was heavier than he, it took a great deal of coaxing to get him to stir. At last, though, just as Hickathrift was coming up good-temperedly to lend his aid, it seemed as if the donkey anticipated a tremendous blow from the long staff the wheelwright carried, for he made a plunge, Dick took tightly hold of the rein and gave it a drag, and Tom sat down on the great root, to follow Hickathrift’s example and roar with laughter, in which the men who were delving peat joined, while Dave and John Warren, men who took life in a very solemn manner, actually smiled.
For Solomon’s sudden plunge, joined to Dick’s drag at the head-stall, showed that it was quite time a new fit out of harness was provided, inasmuch as the old leather gave way in two or three places, and the donkey, with nothing on but his collar, was off full gallop, feeling himself a slave no longer, while Dick, after staggering backwards for a yard or two, came down heavily in a sitting position, and in a very wet place.
“Yes, it’s all very well to laugh,” said Dick, getting up and looking ruefully at the broken bridle and bit which he held in his hand; “but see how cross father will be.”
“And look where old Solomon has gone!” cried Tom. “I say, how are we to catch him? Ha! ha! ha! Only look!”
Everyone but Dick joined in the laugh, for Solomon was rejoicing in his liberty, and galloping away toward the fen, shaking his head, and kicking out his heels; while every now and then he stretched out his neck, grinned, and bit at the wind, for there was nothing else to bite.
“Nice job we shall have!” grumbled Dick. “Oh, I say, Tom, we are in a mess.”
“Oh, there’s nowt the matter, Mester Dick!” said Hickathrift good-temperedly, as he picked up the broken harness and examined it. “Why, I could mend all this in less than an hour with some wax-ends and a brad-awl.”
“Yes, but will you, Hicky?”
“Of course I will, my lad. Theer, don’t look that how. Go and catch the Solemn-un, and me, and Dave, and John Warren’ll get the root up to the yard for you.”