nd set trimmers for the pike that were
lurking here and there.

At last, though, he began to grow tired of poling, for the sun was hot;
and, thinking it would be better to wait for Tom before he tried to
explore the wild part of the fen, he thrust the punt along, to select a
place and try for a pike.

This drew his attention to the baits, where one of the little roach had
turned up nearly dead, a sure sign that the water required changing, so,
setting down the pole, he took up the bucket, and, lowering it slowly
over the side, he held one edge level with the water, so that the fresh
could pour in and the stale and warm be displaced.

Trifles act as large levers sometimes. In this case for one, a few
drops of water from the dripping pole made the bottom of the punt
slippery; and as Dick leaned over the side his foot gave way, the weight
of the bucket overbalanced him, and he had to seize the side of the punt
to save himself. This he did, but as he leaned over, nearly touching
the water, it was to gaze at the bucket descending rapidly, and the fish
escaping, for he had let go.

"What a nuisance!" he cried, as he saw the great vessel seem to turn of
a deeper golden hue as it descended and then disappeared, becoming
invisible in the dark water, while the punt drifted away before he could
take up the pole to thrust it back.

There was nothing to guide him, and the poling was difficult, for the
water was here very deep, and though he tried several times to find the
spot where the bucket had gone down, it was without success.

"Why, if I did find it," he muttered, "I shouldn't be able to get it up
without a hook."

This ended the prospect of fishing, and as he stood there idly dipping
down the pole he hesitated as to what he should do, ending by beginning
to go vigorously in the direction of Dave Gittan's newly-built-up hut.

"I'll make him take me out shooting," he said; "and we'll go all over
that rough part of the fen."

There were very few traces of the past winter's fire visible at Dave's
home as Dick approached, ran his punt on to the soft bog-moss, and
landed, securing his rope to a tree, and there were no signs of Dave.

He shouted, but there was no reply, and it seemed evident that the dog
was away as well.

A walk across to Dave's own special landing-place put it beyond doubt,
for the boat was absent.

"What a bother!" muttered Dick, walking back toward the hut, a stronger
and better place than the o