is a shame!"

"What's a shame?" said Tom.

"Why, to do all this draining. What's the good of it?"

"To make dry fields."

"But I don't want any more dry fields. Here have I been thinking for
years how nice it would be, when we'd done school to have all the run of
the fen, and do what we liked, netting, and fishing and shooting, and
helping Dave at the 'coy, and John Warren among the rabbits."

"And getting a hare sometimes with Hicky's Grip," put in, Tom.

"Yes; and now all the place is going to be spoiled. I say, are we going
right home with you?"

"I suppose so," said Tom. "There's the light. Old Boggy'll hear us
directly. I thought so. Here he comes."

There was a deep angry bark at a distance, and this sounded nearer, and
was followed by the rustling of feet, ending in a joyous whining and
panting as a great sheep-dog raced up to the boys, and began to leap and
fawn upon them, but only to stop suddenly, stand sniffing the air in the
direction of the old priory, and utter an uneasy whine.

"Hey, boy! what's the matter?" said Tom.

"He smells that fox," said Dick triumphantly. "I say, I wish we'd had
him with us. There! he's got wind of him. I wish it wasn't so dark,
and we'd go back and have a run."

"Have a run! have a swim, you mean," said Tom. "Why, that was in one of
the wettest places between here and your house. I say, how plainly you
can hear the sea!"

"Of course you can, when the wind blows off it," said Dick, as he
listened for a moment to the dull low rushing sound. "Your mother has
put two candles in the window."

"She always does when father's out. She's afraid he might get lost in
the bog."

"So did my mother once; but it made father cross, and he said, next time
he went out she was to tie a bit of thread to his arm, and hold the end,
and then he would be sure to get home all right. Why, there's a
jack-o'-lantern on the road."

"That isn't a jacky-lantern," replied Tom, looking steadfastly first at
the two lights shining out in the distance, and then at a dim kind of
star which seemed to be jerking up and down.

"Tell you it is," said Dick shortly.

"Tell you it isn't," cried Tom. "Jacky-lanterns are never lame. They
never hop up and down like that, but seem to glide here and there like a
honey-bee. It's our Joe come to meet us with the horn lantern. It's
his game leg makes it go up and down."

"Dick!" came from ahead.

"Yes, father," shouted the lad; and the