“I got it over his head, then?” said Dick huskily.
“Ay, lad, and over his legs too,” cried Hickathrift, as he bent down and loosened the noose. “Eh, bud it’s tight. That’s it!”
He dragged the rope off, and the donkey lay perfectly motionless for a few moments, but not with his eyes closed, for he seemed to be glowering round.
“Is he dying, Hicky?” said Dick.
“Nay, lad; yow can’t kill an ass so easy. Seems aw reight. There!”
The last word was uttered as the donkey suddenly struggled up, gave himself a tremendous shake, till his ears rattled again as the bog water flew; and then stretching out his neck as if he were about to bray, he bared his teeth and made a fierce run at the wheelwright.
But Hickathrift struck at him with the rope, and to avoid that, Solomon worked round, made a bite at Dick, which took effect on his wet coat, tearing a piece right out. Then he swerved round like lightning and threw out his heels at Tom, tossed up his head, and then cantered off, braying as he went, as if nothing had been the matter, and making straight for the yard.
“Well, of all the ungrateful brutes!” cried Tom.
“Ay, we might just as well hev let him get smothered,” said the wheelwright, joining in the laughter of the others. “Didn’t hurt you, did he, Mester Dick?”
“No, Hicky. Only tore my coat,” replied Dick, turning reluctantly up to the house, for he was wet and now felt cold.