"There's rabbits here--two or three of them, I should say--and a fowl, perhaps two, but they are cut up."
"I cannot swear to that," Captain Ripon said, examining the portions of fowl, "though the plumpness of the breasts, and the size, show that they are not ordinary fowls."
He looked round again at the tents.
"But I can pretty well swear to this," he said, as he stooped and picked up a feather which lay, half concealed, between the edge of one of the tents and the grass. "This is a breast feather of a Spangled Dorking. These are not birds which would be sold for eating in Hunston market, and it will be for these men to show where they got it from."
A smothered oath broke from one or two of the men. The elder signed to them to be quiet.
"That's not proof," he said, insolently. "You can't convict five men, because the feather of a fowl which you cannot swear to is found in their camp."
"No," Captain Ripon said, quietly. "I do not want to convict anyone but the thief; but the proof is sufficient for taking you in custody, and we shall find out which was the guilty man, afterwards.
"Now, lads, it will be worse for you, if you make trouble.
"Constables, take them up to Mr. Bailey. He lives half a mile away. Fortunately, we have means of proving which is the fellow concerned.
"Now, Sam, you and I will go up with the Netherwood constable to Mr. Bailey.