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As he spoke he gazed searchingly at the great workman. "Ay, squire; it is a straange awkard thing." Mr Winthorpe gazed in his great frank face again; and then, with his lips compressed, he went to the bed-side of the injured man. "Bad business," said Hickathrift; "but lads mustn't starve because a constable's shot. Coom along.

"Of course, my dear," said Mrs Winthorpe; "and it would be dreadful to think of. Why, we could never go to our beds in peace." "But Mr Marston's watch and money are all right, my dear. Depend upon it he has offended one of the rough drain diggers, and it is an act of revenge." "But the man ought to be punished."

"Have we some strange robber in the fen?" "Don't know," said the squire shortly. "Perhaps some one has a spite against him." "How dreadful!" said Mrs Winthorpe. "One of his men perhaps." "Or a robber," cried Dick excitedly. "Why, father, we might get Dave and John Warren and Hicky and some more, and hunt him down." "Robbers rob," said the squire laconically.

The bullet has passed obliquely through his chest; it was just within the skin at the back, and I have successfully extracted it. As far as I can tell there is no important organ injured, but at present I am not quite sure. Still I think I may say he is in no immediate danger." Mrs Winthorpe could not trust herself to speak, but she looked her thanks and glided toward the other room.

In short, Dick Winthorpe, being in a marsh, was suffering from a sharp fit of goose, such as attacks many boys who, because matters do not go exactly as they like at home, consider that they are ill-used, and long for what they call their freedom a freedom which is really slavery, inasmuch as they make themselves the bond-servants of their silly fancies, and it takes some time to win them back.

"If Tom is drowned, and Dave, and John Warren, they may drain the fen as soon as they like, for the place will not be the same." The night wore on; and Mrs Winthorpe made the people in turn partake of a meal, half supper, half breakfast, and, beyond obeying his father's orders regarding dry clothes, Dick could go no further.

The squire nodded. "You've got plenty of digging to do, my lad," he said, laughing. "Finish that, and then perhaps I may let you have a turn my way. Who's going over to see John Warren?" "Ah, I wish you would go," said Mrs Winthorpe, "and take the poor fellow over some things I have ready, in a basket!" "I'll go," said Dick. "Hicky will take us in his punt.

"I heard a slight noise a little while ago, and I was listening when I saw a flash and heard the report. Mr Winthorpe, I'm afraid there's something wrong again." "No, no, man!" "I'm afraid I must say, Yes, sir. That sound was not off the sea, but much nearer the house. Who's that?" "Hallo! who's on that ladder?" cried the squire, turning sharply round at the engineer's query. "Tom Tallington?"

"I'm never going to be friends with Tom Tallington again," said Dick sternly; but he sighed as he said it. Just then Tom rushed into the workshop. "Here," he cried, "Dick Winthorpe, come along. I've been to the house." "What do you want?" said Dick coldly. "What do I want! Why, they don't know!" cried Tom. "Look here!" He caught Dick by the collar, dragged him to the door, and pointed.

"No," was the reply; "I will not say much; but I think Mr Winthorpe ought to know. Some one shot me as I was coming across the fen." "What!" cried Dick. "Shot you!" said the squire. "Yes.