Alf’s curiosity was aroused—he had never seen any one of a similar character in the neighbourhood. He felt instinctively that the brown-faced man with the bundle was a brother sportsman, but he could not quite comprehend the reason for his stopping every now and then to listen, and then walking on in such a careless desultory manner.
“He’s a bit of an original in his way, a sort of curiosity,” murmured the boy. “He’s up to something and I mean to know what it is before long.”
The mysterious sportsman had by this time reached the small “clearing” (to use an American phrase) where the cottagers had been permitted to cut furze for their firing.
The stranger had all this time been quite unaware of the presence of the farmer’s boy.
He threw down his bundle and raised himself to his full height; he then stretched forth his arms, which were evidently stiff and cramped from the constrained position they had been in during his journey.
This done he reflected for a brief space of time, after which he stooped down and began to untie his bundle and spread out its contents.
“He’s a rum un. Let’s see what his next move is,” cried Alf, who deemed it expedient to keep as quiet as possible.
He, therefore, stretched himself full length on the grass.
When the boy saw the brown-faced man bring forth a large net his eyes began to shine, and lying on his stomach, with his face between his two hands, he watched the movements of the stranger with the greatest possible interest.
He saw the net, which was about twelve yards square, spread flat upon the ground, and then secured by four small pins (called stars), which left, however, a considerable space of net on either side unoccupied.