“Seen anybody upalong, mate?” asked one.
“Yes, I did,” answered Daniel. “A chap in a hurry, too—running for his life.”
“You be Dan Sweetland!” cried the other man. “Did you hear a gun fire awhile back, Sweetland?”
“I heard several,” replied the young man. “They’ve been busy down to Middlecott, or I’m mistaken. For my part, I wish I’d been there; but I wasn’t. Too much on my hands, you see, to trouble about sporting. I’m going to be married to-morrow; an’ you can tell your old man, Wilkins, that my sweetheart was rather astonished he didn’t give her a wedding present—him being related by marriage.”
The keepers laughed. Both felt morally certain that Daniel had fired the shot which brought them from the distant woods; both knew that to prove it would be impossible.
“An’ I dare say there’ll be a nice pheasant for supper to-morrow night at Hangman’s Hut—eh, Dan?” asked one.
“Oh, no, there won’t, Jack Bates. I like my game hung a bit, same as the quality do. If you’ll come to supper this day week, I’ll see what I can do for ’e.”
The keepers laughed again, and Sweetland went his way.