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Updated: June 25, 2025
They be all noo-laid uns. Straange thick haar this morn," he continued, wiping the condensed mist from his eyelashes. "Take those eggs up to mother, Tom," said Dick imperatively. "Sha'n't. I know! You want to be off without me." "Hallo, young fellow!" said the squire cheerily. "What have you got there eggs?" "Yes, mester, fresh uns for the missus."
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.
'Tis 'mazin' straange, but her've gone, like a dream, an' us caan't find a sign of her. What wi' she an' terrible doin's 'pon the land last night, uncle's 'bout beside hisself. Us left her in the kitchen, an' when we comed back from tryin' to save the hay she was nowheer. Of coorse, us thot she'd gone to her bed.
"What you heven't got, Mester Dick," said the fen-man, showing his yellow teeth. "Bit of opium or a drop o' lodolum. Nay, I don't want you to send me owt. Neighbour Hick'thrift here'll get me some when he goes over to market." Hickathrift nodded, and after a little more conversation the party returned toward the boat. "Straange and thick to-night, Mester Dick," said Dave. "Be thicker soon.
"That isn't a heron," he said. "No. One o' them long-legged ones a crane," said Dave. "Getting straange and scarce now. Used to be lots of 'em breed here when my grandfather was a boy. Nay, nay, don't scar' him," he cried, checking Dick, who was about to wave his hands. "Niver disturb the birds wi'out you want 'em to eat or sell. Now, then: yonder's a hare." "Where?" cried Tom. "I can't see it."
'Tedn' nothin' very straange." "I judge your angel do cry gert tears when you lets on like that, my Joan. Oh, gal, why won't 'e give ear to me, as have lived fifty an' more winters in the world than what you have? Why caan't 'e taste an' try what the Lard is? Drabbit this nonsense 'bout Nature! As if you was a fitcher, or an 'awk, or an owl!
"Ah, let him!" said the doctor. "Now, what are you going to do?" he said aloud; "catch the scoundrel who shot Mr Marston, and get him transported for life?" "That's what ought to be done to him," said John Warren solemnly, as he looked straight away over the fen. "Ay," said Dave. "How do we know but what it may be our turn or Hickathrift's next? It's a straange, bad thing."
"It's straange and horrible it's straange and horrible," he said: "only yesterday he was like I am: as strong and well as a man can be; while now Hickathrift, my lad, do you think he'll die?"
Tom uttered a low growl which was more like that of a dog than a human being; and after an ineffectual attempt to get at Dick, he dragged himself away to kneel down at the first clear pool to bathe his bleeding nose. "Theer, now, I'll let you go," said Hickathrift, "and I'm straange and glad I was i' time to stop you. Think o' you two mates falling out and fighting like a couple o' dogs!
"Like him in a way, but more like you," she answered; "more like you than your awn was terrible straange that the living daps o' Will! Ban't it?" Damaris regarded her son and then the child. "He be like very," she admitted. "I see him strong. An' to think he found the bwoy 'pon that identical spot wheer he fust drawed breath himself!" "'Tis a thing of hidden meaning," declared Will.
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