Bog is not rotten mud, but the decayed masses that have grown in the watery expanse.

Well, Dick, what do you think of it ?" "I wish we could get it home to our place to keep as a curiosity ?" "But it would want a shed over it, my lad, for the rain, wind, and sun would soon make an end of it." "Then, what are you going to do ?" "Get it out and up that slope they are cutting, along some planks if we can, and then fill up the trench." The lads inspected the curious-looking old hull, whose aspect seemed to bring up recollections of the history of early England, when fierce-looking men, half sailors, half warriors, came over from the Norland in boats like this, propelled by great oars, and carrying a short thick mast and one sail.

All the upper portions had rotted away, but enough of the hull remained to show pretty well what its shape must have been, and that it had had a curiously-projecting place that must have curved out like the neck of a bird, the whole vessel having borne a rough resemblance to an elongated duck or swan.
The boys were, however, by no means so enthusiastic as the engineer; and as a great figure came looming up behind them, Dick was ready enough to welcome the incident of the man's reminder about the disturbance at the Toft.
"We're mates, we are," cried the great fellow, holding out his broad hairy hand to take Dick's in his grasp, and shake it steadily up and down.

"I heven't forgot, I heven't forgot." "Are you all right again, Bargle ?" said Dick, trying in vain to extricate his hand.
"Yeees.

Knock o' the yead don't hot me.