If it had been bad bottom Dick's feat would have been impossible, for his pole would have gone down perhaps to its full length in the soft bog; as it was, the end of the pole rested upon gravel in about three feet of water, and the lad went over easily and describing a curve through the air.
"Look out!" shouted Tom, following suit, and landing easily upon the other side; while Dave took off his basket of plovers' eggs by slipping the hide band over his head, then, hanging it to the end of his pole, he held it over the water to the boys, who reached across and took it together on their poles, landing it safely without breaking an egg.
The next minute, with the ease of one long practised in such leaps, Dave flew over and resumed his load.
Several more long lanes of water were cleared in this way, Dave leading the boys a good round, and taking them at last to his house, pretty well laden with eggs, where he set before them a loaf and butter, and lit a fire.
"Theer, you can boil your eggs," he said, "and mak' a meal.

Mebbe you're hungry now." There was no maybe in the matter, judging from the number of slices of bread and butter and hard-boiled plovers' eggs the lads consumed.
Over the meal the question of the draining was discussed sympathetically.
"No fish," said Dick.
"No decoy," said Tom.
"No plovers' eggs," said Dave.
"No rabbiting," said Dick.
"No eeling," said Tom.
"No nothing," said Dave.

"Hey bud it'll be a sad job when it's done.
But it arn't done yet, lads, eh ?" "No, it isn't done yet," said Dick.

"I say, where's John Warren?
I haven't seen him for months." "I hev," said Dave.

"He's a breaking his heart, lads, about big drain.
Comes over to see me and smoke his pipe.