“Wouldn’t shoot them; would you, sir?” said Jenny, roguishly.
“Hold your tongue, you puss,” said my uncle, shaking his fist playfully at the bright, saucy-eyed maiden; “you’re as bad as Dick.”
Oh, how ardently I wished she was in one particular point of view.
My uncle continued. “Ever since I’ve been in the place, the scoundrels have gone on thin—thin—thin—till it’s enough to make one give up in despair. But I won’t; hang me if I do! I won’t be beaten by the hypocritical canting dogs. Now, look here; one hound whines out that he did it for hunger, but it won’t do, that’s a tale; while ’fore George, sir, if a man really was driven to that pitch, I’d give him the worth of a dozen of my birds sooner than have them stolen.”
Well, really, one could not help condoling with the old gentleman, for he was generous and open-handed to an extent that made me wonder sometimes how my portion would fare, and whether the noble old fellow might not break faith through inability to perform his promises. Ever since he had settled in Hareby, and worked hard to get his estate into condition, the poaching fraternity seemed to have made a dead set at him, leading his two keepers a sad life, for one of them had passed two months in hospital through an encounter; while one fellow, who was always suspected of being at the head of the gang, generally contrived to elude capture, being “as cunning as Lucifer, sir,” as my uncle said.
I was down at Hareby to spend Christmas, as had been my custom for years, and on going out the day after my arrival—
“You see, sir,” said Browsem, the keeper; “there’s no knowing where to take him. I’ve tried all I knows, and ’pon my sivvy, sir, I don’t know where to hev him. It warn’t him as give me that dressing down, but it were some of his set, for he keeps in the back grun’, and finds the powder and shot, and gets rid o’ the birds. War-hawk to him if I do get hold on him, though—”
“But do you watch well?” I said.
“Watch, sir? I’ve watched my hyes outer my head a’most, and then he’s dodged me. Hyes aint no good to him. Why, I don’t believe a chap fitted up with telescopes would get round him. The guv’nor swears and goes on at me and Bill, but what’s the good o’ that when you’re arter a fellow as would slip outer his skin, if you hed holt on him? Now, I’ll jest tell you how he served me last week. I gets a simple-looking chap, a stranger to these parts, but a regular deep one, to come over and keep his hye on this here Mr Ruddle. So he hangs about the public, and drinks with first one, and then with another, so that they thinks him a chap outer work, and lars of all he gets friendly with Ruddle, and from one thing to another, gets on talking about fezzans and ’ares.
“‘Ah,’ says my chap, ‘there’s some fine spinneys down our way. Go out of a night there, and get a sackful of birds when you likes.’