"Course, it ain't!" growled the fallen one, sullenly, appearing indignant at the imputation.
"Sit up, and let's look at the fellow that goes round nights cutting people's dikes!" commanded Will.
The fellow turned over on his face.
"Sit up!" repeated Will, in a cold voice, which sounded as if he was in earnest.
"Why," exclaimed Ted. "If it isn't Jim Hutchings!"
"Old Hand's man, eh? I begin to smell a mouse," said Will, sarcastically.
"It's as plain as a pikestaff!" almost shouted Ted. "It's old Hand that ought to get the licking we were going to give you. But we'll have to pound you a little for his sake and your own too!"
"No, Hutchings," said Will, after a moment's thought. "You deserve a licking, but we'll let you off. Only take warning. I'll blame old Hand this time, and you can let him know he's likely to hear from us about this, and about last night's work. But as for you, if we catch you fooling round this dike again, you'll be sorry as long as you live. We're on the watch for you and the likes of you. And over yonder I've got my gun, in case there were more than one of you in the scrape."
"We've loaded her up, both barrels," said Ted, maliciously, "with big charges of bird shot, so she'll scatter well and everybody get his share!"
By this time Jim Hutchings was on his feet.