But I am thinking of the people about.

I wonder whether Hickathrift has found it out." "I dare say he's in bed, father," said Dick.
"That's what I fear, my boy; and then there's John Warren." "He'll get up the sand-hills, father." "If he knows in time, my boy; but Dave Gittan has no place to flee to." "He has his little boat, father; and Chip would warn him if he has gone to bed.

I know what he'd do then." "What, my lad ?" "Pole himself along to John Warren and fetch him off, and come on to the Toft." "Mind, take care, we're going wrong," cried the squire excitedly, as he slipped and went in right up to his waist, but Dick clung to his hand, threw himself back, and with a heavy splash the squire managed to regain the hard road off whose edge he had slipped.
"We must go slower, father," said Dick coolly.

"You pull me back if I go wrong this way and I'll pull you.

I say, isn't it getting dark!" The squire made no answer, but feeling that their case was growing desperate, and if they did not progress more rapidly they would be in such deep water before they could reach the Priory that it would be impossible to keep the track, and they would be swept away, he pushed on, with the result that in a few minutes Dick had a narrow escape, slipping right in and coming up panting, to be dragged back, and stand still quite confused by his total immersion.
"We must get on, Dick, my boy," said his father; "the water's growing terribly deep, and it presses against us like a torrent.