"There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked."
Did John Hardy and his wife know what was going on? John's evenings were regularly spent at "The Plough," whence he generally returned home more or less the worse for drink. His son's absence from home at night was, therefore, rarely remarked by him; and if occasionally a suspicion had arisen in his mind, a bribe from Haines had made him conveniently blind to anything that took place afterwards. Frank's mother also must have known that something wrong was going on; but an occasional present of a rabbit at a time when food chanced to be particularly dear kept her silent, and thus caused her to aid and abet in her son's road to ruin.
It was Frank's place to wait every night at the bank of the stream to receive what the poachers might bring down through the wood. There was no certainty at what time they might come; but Frank had always to be on the alert, and ready at the first sound of the low whistle to push the boat over to the other side of the stream, and receive the sack of game, which was then hidden until the following morning, when he had to be on the watch for the carrier, who always waited a few seconds at the corner of the lane. The money he got was hardly earned, let him boast as he might to Walter about his "easy way."
Many long, weary hours he had to spend in the wet and cold, with the constant dread of detection hanging over his head, and the taunts and threats of Tom Haines to bear if he ever failed to be at his post when they wanted him.
Walter was right: it was no "easy way" after all!
When Walter left work that evening, the first thing he did was to follow his master's advice, and to call at the post-office on his way home and deposit his five shillings in the Post-Office Savings' Bank. As he came out of the shop, he ran against Frank.
"Where have you, been, Walter?"
With pardonable vanity, Walter exhibited his bank-book, and told how he had got the money.
Frank thrust his hand into his pocket in a bragging manner, and drew out some silver. There were quite five shillings, if not more. "I can earn money too, you see," he said with a laugh; but the laugh sounded hollow to Walter's ears, and he caught his companion by the sleeve as he was hastening on.
"Frank, it is not yet too late to join the night school; will you make up your mind to come? I feel sure you would be much happier than you are now if you would but come; and, as to the money," and Walter shuddered in spite of himself, "I am certain you would be better and happier without it than with it. Do come; say you will—there's a good fellow." And Walter looked earnestly in Frank's face.