"Those woods yonder, at t'other side of the road," said the sailor.
"Why, that's Sir Lacy's park!" exclaimed Dan. "Didn't you see the board up about trespassers being prosecuted?"
"I noticed no board," answered Franks; "it was getting dark, and I minded nothing but the squirrel. As I was cruising about on the road, I saw the little creature limping on the footway. Thinks I, 'the village boys will hunt it to death, or 'twill fall a prey to the weasels, so I'll catch it to save its life.' Easier said than done; lame as it was, the little squirrel nearly managed to get off, squeezing itself through a hole in the fence, and so getting into the wood, or park as you call it. But I was over, and after it in a minute."
"I don't know how you, managed to get over, maimed as you are," observed Bessy.
Ned Franks burst into a merry laugh. "A Jack-tar who is used to go aloft when 'tis blowing great guns, is not likely to make much of a bit of oak-fence," said he. "It was easy enough to climb over, but it was not easy to catch the squirrel; he led me a good long dance before I could clap my hand upon him."
"Then he did say right," exclaimed Dan thumping his fist on the table.
"He! What do you mean?" cried the sailor, looking at the boy with surprise.
"The gamekeeper did say right when he declared that he caught a glimpse of a sailor in the wood."
"Likely enough," said Ned Franks, "I hope that no one thinks that I was poaching."
"Something worse may be thought," cried Dan, winking mysteriously, like one in the possession of an important secret. "Maybe you don't know what all the village is talking of, that just after dark, half the panes in Lady Barton's hothouse were smashed, a lot of them coloured panes too, and that the constable's on the look out to catch whoever has done the mischief."