the boat and howl? Yow mark my words: it's sperrits, that's
what it is; and it's because o' that theer dreern; but they needn't
shute at me, for I don't want dreern made."

"Going over to town to see the doctor, John?" said Dick.

"Nay, lad, not I. It's only a hole in my arm. There arn't nowt the
matter wi' me. I've tied it oop wi' some wet 'bacco, and it'll all grow
oop again, same as a cooten finger do."

"But someone ought to see it."

"Well, someun has sin it. I showed it to owd Dave, and he said it weer
all right. Tchah! what's the good o' doctors? Did they cure my ager?"

"Well, go up and ask mother to give you some clean linen rag for it."

"Ay," said the rabbit-trapper with a grim smile, "I'll do that."

So John Warren went to the Toft, obtained the clean linen rag, but
refused to have his wound dressed, and went off again; while the squire
knit his brow when he returned soon after, and, taking Dick with him,
poled across in the punt to see Dave and make him promise to keep a
sharp look-out.

A week passed away, and the frost had come in so keenly that the ice
promised to bear, and consequent upon this Dick was at the wheelwright's
one evening superintending the finishing up of his pattens, as they
called their skates. Hickathrift had ground the blades until they were
perfectly sharp at the edges, and had made a new pair of ashen soles for
them, into which he had just finished fitting the steel.

"There, Mester Dick," said the bluff fellow with a grin; "that's a pair
o' pattens as you ought 'most to fly in. Going out in the morning?"

"Yes, Hicky, I shall go directly after breakfast."

"Ay, she'll bear splendid to-morrow, and the ice is as hard and black as
it can be. Hello, who's this? Haw-haw! I thowt you'd want yours
done," he added, as he heard steps coming over the frozen ground, and
the jingle of skates knocking together. "It's young Tom Tallington,
Mester Dick. Come, you two ought to mak friends now, and go and hev a
good skate to-morrow."

"I'm never going to be friends with Tom Tallington again," said Dick
sternly; but he sighed as he said it.

Just then Tom rushed into the workshop. "Here," he cried, "Dick
Winthorpe, come along. I've been to the house."

"What do you want?" said Dick coldly.

"What do I want! Why, they don't know!" cried Tom. "Look here!"

He caught Dick by the collar, dragged him to the door, and pointed.

"Fire!" he cried.

"Hey!" cried the whe