The bog is twenty feet deep here." "Can't he swim out ?" "Can't you swim out!" cried Dick.

"What's the good of talking like that?
You couldn't swim if you were up to the neck in sand." "But he isn't up to his neck in sand." "But he's up to his neck in bog, and it's all the same." "Ahoy! what's matter ?" came from a couple of hundred yards away; and the lads turned, to see that it was Hickathrift shouting, he and the others having just succeeded in taking up the root to its destination.
"Ahoy! Bring the rope," shouted Dick.
"He-haw--haw--haw--haw!" shouted the Solemn one dismally, as if to emphasise his young master's order.
"Why, how came he in there ?" cried Hickathrift, trotting up with the rope, but picking his way carefully, for the peat shook beneath his feet.
"He went in himself," cried Dick.

"Oh, do get him out before he sinks! Make a noose, and let's throw it over his head." "We shall pull his head right off if we do," said Hickathrift, but busily making the noose the while.
"Oh, no, I don't believe you would!" cried Tom.

"He has got an awfully strong neck." "It won't hurt him," said Dave, who came up slowly with the rest.
"Well, there's no getting it under him," said the wheelwright; "he'd kick us to pieces if we tried." "I'll try," said Dick eagerly.
"Nay, I weant let you," said Hickathrift.

"I'll go my sen." "It weant bear thee, neighbour," said John Warren warningly.
"Eh?
wean't it?
Well, I can but try, mun.