here are you?" shouted Hickathrift as he peered around.

"Here we are, all right, only so precious cold!" cried Dick. "It isn't
very deep here; only up to your chest."

"It's up to my chin," cried Tom with a shiver, "and I'm holding on by
the ice."

Hickathrift did not hesitate, but waded towards him, breaking opposing
sheets of ice with a thump of his fist, and at last, with some little
difficulty, all got ashore.

"Theer, both of you, run for it to the Toft and get to bed. The missus
knows what to do better than I can tell her. Nivver mind your pattens."

If they had stopped to get them off it would have been a terribly long
job with their rapidly-numbing hands, so they did not pause, but
scuffled over the ground in the best way they could to the house, where
hot beds and a peculiar decoction Mrs Winthorpe prepared had a double
property, for it sent them into a perspiration and off to sleep, one of
the labourers bearing the news to Grimsey that the heir to the house of
Tallington would not return that night, consequent upon having become
"straange and wet."

The next morning the boys came down to breakfast none the worse for
their wetting, to find that Mr Marston was already there looking very
serious.

He had been told of the burning-out of poor Dave, and he had other news
of his own, that three of the cottages had been fired during the past
night.

"And the peculiar part of the business is," said Mr Marston, "that big
Bargle saw the person who fired the last of the houses."

The engineer looked at Dick as he spoke.

"Why didn't he catch him then?" said Dick sharply, for Mr Marston's
look annoyed him; "he is big enough."

"Don't speak pertly, Dick!" said his father sternly.

"It was because he is so big that he did not catch him, Richard
Winthorpe," said the engineer coldly. "The ice bore the person who
fired the places, because he was skating."

"Skating!" cried Dick, flushing up.

"Yes, skating!" said Mr Marston. "Bargle says that the man hobbled
over the ground in his skates, but as soon as he reached the ice he went
off like a bird. The ice cracked and splintered, but it seemed to bear
him, and in less than a minute he was out of sight, but Bargle could
hear him for a long time."

"Well, it wasn't me, Mr Marston," said Tom, laughing. "I was skating
along with Dick, but it was neither of us. We went to another fire."

"Breakfast is getting cold," said Mrs Winthorpe, who looked troubled,