At first it seemed strange, and almost ghastly; but in a few more moments those who watched could see that it was Dave o' the 'Coy in his fox-skin cap standing up in his little white punt and thrusting it along by means of a long pole, while a man sat in the stern.
"Yon's John Warren along wi' him," cried Hickathrift.

"I thowt they'd be all right.

Come on, lads, clost in here," he shouted; and without making any reply, the strange-looking man in the bows of the boat pulled her along till the prow struck upon the flooded grass, and he threw a rope to the wheelwright.
"Got your gun, Dave ?" cried Dick eagerly.
The man turned his head slowly to the speaker, laid the pole across the boat, which was aground a dozen feet from the dry land, stooped, picked up his long gun, and uttered a harsh-- "Kitch!" As he spoke he threw the gun to the wheelwright, who caught it and passed it to Dick, while the second man handed Dave another gun, which was sent ashore in the same way.

Then, taking up the pole, Dave placed it a little way before him, and leaped ashore as actively as a boy, while the second man now advanced to the front, caught the pole as it was thrown back, and in turn cleared the water and landed upon the dry ground.
"Glad to see you safe, Dave," said the squire, holding out his hand.
"Glad to see you, too, John Warren.

You are heartily welcome." The two men took the squire's hand in a limp, shrinking manner; and instead of giving it a hearty grip, lifted it up once, looking at it all the time as if it were something curious, and then let it fall, and shuffled aside, giving a furtive kind of nod to every one in turn who offered a congratulation.
They were the actions of men who led a solitary life among the birds and four-footed animals of the great wild fen, and to be made the heroes of an escape seemed to be irksome.
Just then there was a diversion which took off people's attention, and seemed to place them more at ease.