key's heels flew out, and Tom made a feint of punching his
companion's head.

"How clever we are!" he cried. "Just as if I didn't see you tickling
him to make him kick!"

"Tickle him!" said Dick laughing. "Why, I wasn't tickling him when he
kicked up in the corner there. But come along or we shall never get
that log up to the yard, and father won't like it. Now, Sol! Open the
gate, Tom."

Tom opened the gate, and with Dick holding the rein the donkey walked
along by his side as meekly as if he had never kicked or shown his teeth
with the intention of biting in his life. The rope was doubled up and
thrown over his back; and when they had gone a few yards Dick, without
pausing, made a bit of a jump and struggled on to the animal's back,
getting himself right aft, as a sailor would say, so that it seemed as
if at any moment he might slip off behind.

But Solomon made no objection; he just twitched and wagged his tail for
a moment or two, and then put it away out of sight. For the donkey
chained, or rather harnessed, became an obedient slave--a very different
creature from the donkey free.

When they reached the dyke where the men were standing delving out the
peat, it was to find a group of three fresh arrivals in the persons of
Hickathrift the wheelwright, Dave, and John Warren, and all in earnest
converse upon some subject.

"Yow may say what yow like," cried Dave, "but fen-land's fen-land, and
meant for the wild birds."

"And rabbuds," put in John Warren.

"Ay, lad, and rabbuds," assented Dave; "and it weer nivver meant to grow
corn and grass. Yow can't do it, and yow'll nivver make fen-land
fields. It's agen natur."

"So it is to ride in a cart or on a sled, lad," said Hickathrift
good-humouredly; "but I make 'em, and folk rides in 'em and carries
things to market."

"Ay, but that's different," said Dave. "Fen-land's fen-land; and you
can't dree-ern that."

"You can't dree-ern that," said John Warren, nodding his head in assent.

"Well, they'll drain these fields, at all events," said Hickathrift.
"Yow can't say they weant do that."

"I say fen-land's fen-land," reiterated Dave, taking off his fox-skin
cap and rubbing his ear viciously; "and it can't be dree-ernt."

"Ah! you two are scarred about your 'coy and your rabbud-warren," cried
Hickathrift good-humouredly. "I wish they'd dree-ern the whole place
and have roads all over it, so as to want carts and wains."

"Nay, they nivver will,"