Yow couldn't pole the boat across wi'out losing your way." "Couldn't I ?" cried Dick.

"Oh, yes, I could! Good-night! I want you to show Mr Marston some sport with the ducks some day." "Ay; you bring him over, Mester Dick, and we'll hev' a good turn at the 'coy.

Good-night!" They pushed off, and before they were fifty yards from the shore the boat seemed to enter a bank of mist, so thick that the wheelwright, as he poled, was almost invisible from where Mr Marston and Dick were seated.
"I say, Hicky, turn back and let's go along the edge of the fog," cried Dick.
"Nay, it's driftin' ower us," replied the wheelwright.

"Best keep on and go reight through." "Go on, then," cried Dick.

"Feel how cold and damp it is." "Feel it, Dick?
Yes; and right in my wounded arm." "Does it hurt much ?" "No; only aches.