Stepping agilely aside Dacres thrust out his foot and sent one of his assailants sprawling on his hands and knees. His comrade, within an ace of tripping over the other's prostrate body, thought discretion the better part of valour, and slipped back until he could obtain assistance.
"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Dacres angrily. "I'm not a poacher. I've lost my way."
"A likely story," exclaimed the man who had given the order for the attack. "All the same, you've got to come with us."
"Got to?" repeated Dacres, standing on his guard. "There are two sides to that question."
A minute before he would have gone anywhere with anyone, and with the utmost willingness. Now, the aggressive nature of the reception completely destroyed any such desire.
As he stood with his arms in a professional boxing attitude he heard other footsteps, crunching on the dry pine-needles.
"Look here," continued the speaker. "It's no use resisting. We are five to one. You've jolly well got to be brought before the governor. It may be all right for you or it may not. We've got our orders and we mean to carry them out. Now, then, are you coming quietly?"
"Evidently they take me for a poacher," thought Dacres. "Perhaps I am on the pater's preserves. It will be rather a joke if I am, and they run me in before my own governor."
"Very well, then," he said aloud, "I'll come quietly; only keep your hands off me."
"We will if you promise to give no trouble," replied the leader of the party in a mollified tone, "but orders are orders, you know."