reached
the wheelwright's shed, where the big fellow was just taking down a hoe
to go gardening.

"Why, of course I will. Straange niced evening, Mr Marston! Come
along. I'll put on my coat though, for the mist'll be thick to-night."

Hickathrift took his coat from behind the door, led the way to the place
where his punt was floating, fastened to an old willow-stump; and as
soon as his visitors were aboard he began to unfasten the rope.

"Like to tak' a goon, sir, or a fishing-pole?"

"No: I think we'll be content with what we can see to-night."

Hickathrift nodded, and Dick thought the engineer very stupid, for a gun
had a peculiar fascination for him; but he said nothing, only seated
himself, and trailed his hand in the dark water as the lusty wheelwright
sent the punt surging along.

"Why, Hickathrift," cried Mr Marston, "I thought our friend Dave a
wonder at managing a punt; but you beat him. What muscles you have!"

"Muscles, mester? Ay, they be tidy; but I'm nowt to Dave. I can shove
stronger, but he'd ding [beat] me at it. He's cunning like. Always at
it, you see. Straange and badly though."

"What, Dave is?" cried Dick.

"Ay, lad; he's got the shakes, same as John Warren. They two lay out
together one night after a couple o' wild swans they seen, and it give
'em both ager."

It was a glorious evening, without a breath of air stirring, and the
broad mere glistened and glowed with the wonderful reflection from the
sky. The great patches of reeds waved, and every now and then the weird
cry of the moor-hen came over the water. Here and there perfect clouds
of gnats were dancing with their peculiar flight; swallows were still
busy darting about, and now and then a leather-winged bat fluttered over
them seeking its insect food.

"What a lovely place this looks in a summer evening!" said Mr Marston
thoughtfully.

"Ay, mester, and I suppose you are going to spoil it all with your big
drain," said the wheelwright, and he ceased poling for a few moments, as
the punt entered a natural canal through a reed-bed.

"Spoil it, my man! No. Only change its aspect. It will be as
beautiful in its way when corn is growing upon it, and far more useful."

"Ay, bud that's what our people don't think. Look, Mester Dick!"

Dick was already looking at a shoal of fish ahead flying out of the
water, falling back, and rising again, somewhat after the fashion of
flying-fish in the Red Sea.

"Know what that