CHAPTER III -- THE FEN FERRY The river Till was a wide , sluggish , clayey water , oozing out of fens , and in this part of its course it strained among some score of willow-covered , marshy islets . It was a dingy stream ; but upon this bright , spirited morning everything was become beautiful . The wind and the martens broke it up into innumerable dimples ; and the reflection of the sky was scattered over all the surface in crumbs of smiling blue . A creek ran up to meet the path , and close under the bank the ferryman 's hut lay snugly . It was of wattle and clay , and the grass grew green upon the roof . Dick went to the door and opened it . Within , upon a foul old russet cloak , the ferryman lay stretched and shivering ; a great hulk of a man , but lean and shaken by the country fever . `` Hey , Master Shelton , '' he said , `` be ye for the ferry ? Ill times , ill times ! Look to yourself . There is a fellowship abroad . Ye were better turn round on your two heels and try the bridge . '' `` Nay ; time 's in the saddle , '' answered Dick . `` Time will ride , Hugh Ferryman . I am hot in haste . '' `` A wilful man ! '' returned the ferryman , rising . `` An ye win safe to the Moat House , y ' have done lucky ; but I say no more . '' And then catching sight of Matcham , `` Who be this ? '' he asked , as he paused , blinking , on the threshold of his cabin .
`` It is my kinsman , Master Matcham , '' answered XXXXX .
Dick FEN Ferryman Matcham Shelton Time dimples islets martens morning