Dick o' the Fens: A Tale of the Great East Swamp by George Manville Fenn
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
THE QUESTION.
There are many pleasures in life, and plenty of people to sing thepraises of the sport most to their taste; but it is doubtful whetherthere is any manly pursuit which gives so much satisfaction to an adeptin the art as skating.
I don't mean skating upon the ornamental water of a park, elbowed here,run against there, crowded into a narrow limit, and abortively trying tocut figures upon a few square feet of dirty, trampled ice, full ofholes, dotted with stones thrown on by mischievous urchins to trywhether it will bear, and being so much unlike ice that it is hardly tobe distinguished from the trampled banks; but skating over miles ofclear black crystal, on open water, with the stars twinkling above likediamonds, the air perfectly still around, but roaring far on high, asJack Frost and his satellites go hurrying on to mow down vegetation andfetter streams; when there is so much vitality in the air you breathethat fatigue is hardly felt, and when, though the glass registers somany degrees of frost, your pulses beat, your cheeks glow, and a faintdew upon your forehead beneath your cap tells you that you arethoroughly warm. How the blood dances through the veins! How the eyessparkle! How tense is every nerve! How strong each muscle! The icelooks like steel. Your skates are steel, and your legs feel the same asstroke, _whish_! stroke, _whish_! stroke! stroke! stroke! stroke! awayyou go, gathering power, velocity, confidence, delight, at the unwontedexercise, till you feel as if you could go on for ever, and beginwishing that the whole world was ice, and human beings had been bornwith skates to their toes instead of nails.
Some such feelings as these pervaded the breasts of Dick Winthorpe andTom Tallington as they glided along homeward on that night. Every nowand then there was a sharp report, and a hissing splitting sound. Thenanother and another, for the ice was really too thin to bear themproperly, and it undulated beneath their weight like the soft swell ofthe Atlantic in a calm.
"Sha'n't go through, shall we?" said Tom, as there was a crack as loudas a pistol-shot.
"We should if we stopped," said Dick. "Keep on and we shall be on freshice before it breaks."
And so it seemed. Crack! crack! crack! But at every report and itsfollowing splitting the lads redoubled their exertions, and skimmed at atremendous rate over the treacherous surface.
At times it was quite startling; but they were growing so inured to theperil that they laughed loudly--a joyous hearty laugh--which rang out tothe music made by their skates.
They were in the highest of glee, for though they did not revert to itin words, each boy kept thinking of the past quarrel, and rejoicing atits end, while he looked forward to days of enjoyment in companionshipsuch as had gone before.
The star--one of those in the Great Bear--did them good stead, for itwas easy to follow; and saving that they were always within an ace ofgoing through, they skimmed on in safety.
From time to time they glanced back to see the glare of the fire dyingout to such an extent that when they were well in sight of the light atthe landing-place which they felt convinced Hickathrift was showing, thelast sign had died out, and just then a loud crack made them forget it.
"Don't seem to be freezing so hard, does it?" said Tom.
"Oh, yes, I think so; only we must be going over ice we cracked before.Now, then, let's put on all the speed we can, and go right in to wherethe light is with a rush."
Tom answered to his companion's call by taking stroke for stroke, andaway they went quicker than ever. The ice bent and swayed and cracked,and literally hissed as they sped on, with the white powder flying as itwas struck off. The metallic ring sounded louder, and the splittingmore intense; but still they passed on in safety till they were withinone hundred yards of where the wheelwright was waiting, when there was asharp report as loud as that of a gun, a crack, and there were noskaters on the surface, only a quantity of broken ice in so much blackwater, and directly after a loud yell rose from the shore.
"Now, Jacob, out with it!" came in stentorian tones; and then there wasa cracking sound, a great deal of splashing, and the punt was partlyslid along the ice, partly used to break it up, by the two men who wadedby its side, and finally got it right upon the ice and thrust along tillit was close to the place where the lads had broken in.
"Now, then, where are you?" shouted Hickathrift as he peered around.
"Here we are, all right, only so precious cold!" cried Dick. "It isn'tvery deep here; only up to your chest."
"It's up to my chin," cried Tom with a shiver, "and I'm holding on bythe ice."
Hickathrift did not hesitate, but waded towards him, breaking opposingsheets of ice with a thump of his fist, and at last, with some littledifficulty, all got ashore.
"Theer, both of you, run for it to the Toft and get to bed. The missusknows 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 longjob with their rapidly-numbing hands, so they did not pause, butscuffled over the ground in the best way they could to the house, wherehot beds and a peculiar decoction Mrs Winthorpe prepared had a doubleproperty, for it sent them into a perspiration and off to sleep, one ofthe labourers bearing the news to Grimsey that the heir to the house ofTallington would not return that night, consequent upon having become"straange and wet."
The next morning the boys came down to breakfast none the worse fortheir wetting, to find that Mr Marston was already there looking veryserious.
He had been told of the burning-out of poor Dave, and he had other newsof his own, that three of the cottages had been fired during the pastnight.
"And the peculiar part of the business is," said Mr Marston, "that bigBargle 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'slook 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, RichardWinthorpe," said the engineer coldly. "The ice bore the person whofired the places, because he was skating."
"Skating!" cried Dick, flushing up.
"Yes, skating!" said Mr Marston. "Bargle says that the man hobbledover the ground in his skates, but as soon as he reached the ice he wentoff like a bird. The ice cracked and splintered, but it seemed to bearhim, and in less than a minute he was out of sight, but Bargle couldhear him for a long time."
"Well, it wasn't me, Mr Marston," said Tom, laughing. "I was skatingalong with Dick, but it was neither of us. We went to another fire."
"Breakfast is getting cold," said Mrs Winthorpe, who looked troubled,for the squire was frowning, and Dick turning pale and red by turns.
"Look here," said the squire suddenly; "I cannot, and I will not, haveunpleasantness of this kind in my house. I must speak plainly, Marston.You suspect my boy of firing your men's huts last night?"
"I am very sorry, Mr Winthorpe, and I do it unwillingly, butappearances are very much against him."
"They are," said the squire gravely.
"I like Dick; I always did like Dick," said the engineer; "and it seemsto me horrible to have to suspect such a lad as he is; but put yourselfin my place, Mr Winthorpe. Can you be surprised?"
"I am not surprised, Mr Marston," said Mrs Winthorpe, rising and goingto her son's side. "Dick was out last night skating with Tom here overthe thin ice, and of course it must have been a very light person tocross last night in skates; but you are mistaken. My boy would notcommit such a cowardly crime."
The moment before, Dick, who was half-stunned by the accusation, andready to give up in despair, leaped to his feet and flung his arms abouthis mother's waist. His eyes flashed and the colour flushed right upinto his brows as he kissed her passionately again and again.
"You are right," said the squire. "But speak out, Dick. You did not dothis dastardly thing?"
"No, father," said Dick, meeting his eyes boldly. "I
"There, Marston," said the squire; "and I will not insult Tom Tallingtonby accusing him."
"Oh, no, father! we were together all the time."
"But I say," cried Tom, "old Dave said it was a chap in skates who setfire to his place, and he couldn't follow him over the ice."
"Yes; I'd forgotten," cried Dick, "and he shot at him."
"Then I am wrong once more, Dick," said Mr Marston. "I beg yourpardon. Will you forgive me?"
"Of course I will, Mr Marston," said Dick huskily, as he took theextended hand; "but I don't think you ought to be so ready to think illof me."
"And I say the same, Mr Marston," said Mrs Winthorpe. "My boy iswilful, and he may have been a bit mischievous, but he could not beguilty of such cowardly tricks as these."
"No," said Tom, with his mouth full of pork-pie; "of course he couldnot. Dick isn't a coward!"
"I humbly apologise, Mrs Winthorpe," said Marston, smiling, "and youmust forgive me. A man who has been shot at has his temper spoiled."
"Say no more, Marston, my lad," said the squire warmly; "we all forgiveyou, and--breakfast waits."
The subject was hurriedly changed, Dick being after all able to make agood meal, during which he thought of the past, and of how glad he wasto be friends with Tom Tallington again; and then, as he had his secondhelp of pie to Tom's third, it seemed to him that the same person mustbe guilty of all these outrages, and if so it could not by anypossibility be Farmer Tallington, for he never skated, and even if hecould, he weighed at least sixteen stone, and the ice had broken underthe weight of Tom's seven or eight.
"We shall find him yet, Marston; never fear," said the squire; "and whenwe do--well, I shall be sorry for the man."
"Why?" said Mrs Winthorpe.
"Because," said the squire gravely, "I have been so near death myselfthat--there, this is not a pleasant subject to talk about. We willwait."