wder-horn."

"Eh!" cried the wheelwright.

Pop! went the horn with a feeble report, consequent upon there being
only about a couple of charges of powder left; but it was enough to
scatter the embers in all directions, and for a few moments all stood
staring at the smoking wood in the midst of which lay the great iron
tire, rapidly turning black.

Dave was the first to recover himself.

"Come on," he shouted, and, pincers in hand, he seized the heated ring,
the wheelwright followed suit, the apprentice joined, and lifting the
glowing iron it was soon being hammered into its place round the smoking
wheel, the soft metal bending and yielding, and burning its way till,
amidst the blinding smoke, it was well home and cooling and shrinking,
this part of the business being rapidly concluded by means of buckets of
water brought by Jacob, and passed along the edge of the wheel.

"I say, Tom, it wasn't half a bang," said Dick as the two lads ran
towards home with the wind whistling by their ears.

"No," was the panted-out reply; "but I say, what will old Dave say?"

"I don't care what he says. I shall give him a shilling to buy some
more powder, and he can soon make himself another horn."

CHAPTER TWO.

THE GREAT FEN DRAIN.

"Yes, it's all right, Master Winthorpe," said Farmer Tallington; "but
what will the folks say?"

"Say! What have they got to do with it?" cried Squire Winthorpe. "You
boys don't make so much noise. I can't hear myself speak."

"Do you hear, Tom, howd thy row, or I'll send thee home," said the
farmer; "recollect where you be."

"Yes, father," said, the lad.

"It wasn't Tom; it was me," said Dick quietly.

"Then hold your tongue, sir," cried the squire. "Now look here, Master
Tallington. If a big drain is cut right through the low fen, it will
carry off all the water; and where now there's nothing but peat, we can
get acres and acres of good dry land that will graze beasts or grow
corn."

"Yes, that's fine enough, squire," said Tom's father; "but what will the
fen-men say?"

"I don't care what they say," cried the squire hotly. "There are about
fifty of us, and we're going to do it. Will you join?"

"Hum!" said Tom Tallington's father, taking his long clay-pipe from his
lips and scratching his head with the end. "What about the money?"

"You'll have to be answerable for a hundred pounds, and it means your
own farm worth twice as much, and perhaps a score of acres of good lan