Dick o the Fens | Page 9

against the sharply running water, which was flowing in from the sea and growing deeper inch by inch.
As if to comfort each other father and son kept on making cheery remarks apropos of their rough journey. Now it was Dick, who declared that the water felt warmer than the air; now it was the squire, who laughingly said that he should believe now in blind men being able to find their way by the touch.
"For I'm feeling my way along here famously, Dick."
"Yes, father, only it seems such a long way--ugh!"
"What is it, boy?"
"One foot went down deep. Yes, I know where we are."
"Yes, close home, my boy," cried the squire.
"No, no; half a mile away by the sharp turn, father; and I nearly went right down. We must keep more this way."
The squire drew his breath hard, for he knew his son was right, as the road proved when they turned almost at right angles and plashed on through the water.
Half a mile farther to go and the current rushing on! It had been only over their ankles, now it was above their knees, and both knew that at this rate it would be waist-deep, if not deeper, before they could reach the high ground at home.
"It is very horrible, Dick, my lad," cried the squire at last as they kept on, with the water steadily and surely growing deeper.
"Oh, I don't mind, father! We shall get on so far before it's over our heads that we shall be able to swim the rest of the way. You can swim, father?"
"I used to, my lad; perhaps I have not forgotten how. But I am thinking of the people about. I wonder whether Hickathrift has found it out."
"I dare say he's in bed, father," said Dick.
"That's what I fear, my boy; and then there's John Warren."
"He'll get up the sand-hills, father."
"If he knows in time, my boy; but Dave Gittan has no place to flee to."
"He has his little boat, father; and Chip would warn him if he has gone to bed. I know what he'd do then."
"What, my lad?"
"Pole himself along to John Warren and fetch him off, and come on to the Toft."
"Mind, take care, we're going wrong," cried the squire excitedly, as he slipped and went in right up to his waist, but Dick clung to his hand, threw himself back, and with a heavy splash the squire managed to regain the hard road off whose edge he had slipped.
"We must go slower, father," said Dick coolly. "You pull me back if I go wrong this way and I'll pull you. I say, isn't it getting dark!"
The squire made no answer, but feeling that their case was growing desperate, and if they did not progress more rapidly they would be in such deep water before they could reach the Priory that it would be impossible to keep the track, and they would be swept away, he pushed on, with the result that in a few minutes Dick had a narrow escape, slipping right in and coming up panting, to be dragged back, and stand still quite confused by his total immersion.
"We must get on, Dick, my boy," said his father; "the water's growing terribly deep, and it presses against us like a torrent. Forward!"
They recommenced their journey, wading on slowly over what seemed to be an interminable distance; but no sign of the dark village or of the island-farm in the fen appeared, and at last the water deepened so that a chilly feeling of despair began slowly to unnerve the squire and set him thinking that theirs was a hopeless case.
"Be ready, Dick," he whispered, as, after a tremendous puff of wind which stopped them for the moment, he once more pressed on.
"Ready, father?" panted Dick. "What for?"
"We may have to swim directly. If it gets much deeper we cannot force our way."
"Oh, we shall do it!" cried the boy; "we must be close there now."
"I fear not," said the squire to himself. "Hold on, boy!" he cried aloud. "What is it?"
"Water's--up to my--chest," panted Dick; "and it comes so fast here-- it's--it's too strong for me."
"Dick!" cried the squire in agony.
"I must swim, father," cried Dick.
"And be swept away!" cried the squire hoarsely. "Heaven help me! what shall I do?"
He had gripped his son tightly in his agony, and they stood together for a few moments, nearly swept off their feet by the swirling current, when a bright idea flashed across the squire's mind.
"Quick, Dick! don't speak. Climb on my back."
"But, father--"
"Do as I bid you," roared the squire, stooping a little, and bending down he made of one hand a stirrup for his son's foot, who, the next moment, was well up on his back.
"That's better, boy," panted the squire. "You are safe, and