“Oh, no,” said Bates confidently. “If you were to shoot them on Sir Anthony’s land, that would be poaching, of course; but in the spinney a pheasant belongs to anybody who can get it.”
“Are you sure?” asked Percy.
“Certain, quite certain,” Bates declared with much emphasis. “You would not catch me going after pheasants if there was any fear of getting into prison for it. No, thank you. You may be sure of that.”
“It does seem pretty reasonable,” said Percy, “that game found on land that belongs to nobody in particular should be the property of anyone who can get it; and if you’re sure you’re right, Bates, I think we may as well go. Eh, Tom?”
Percy, naturally enough, knew almost nothing of the English game-laws, and, as for myself, I knew but little more. I was aware that rabbits were not game—in the eye of the law—and that pheasants were, but whether it were an illegal act to kill a pheasant in a public place like the spinney I had no knowledge. But as Bates was not afraid to venture (and we had no great opinion of his courage); as we were both very desirous of shooting a pheasant; and as, in fine, we possessed that common attribute of schoolboys, the habit of acting first and thinking afterwards, we decided to go.
At eight o’clock that evening, therefore, Bates, carrying a bag for the reception of the game, called for us at the vicarage, where Percy and I were waiting for him, and together we set off for our hunting-ground by a short cut across the fields.
We had nearly reached our destination, when Bates, vaulting over the gate which led from one field to another, managed somehow to entangle his feet in the game-bag and fell upon his hands and knees on the farther side, at the same time uttering a sharp exclamation of pain.
“Have you hurt yourself?” asked Percy, solicitously, seeing that our guide remained sitting on the ground clasping one ankle with both hands.
“I’m afraid I’ve twisted my ankle a little,” replied Bates, suppressing a groan with seeming difficulty.
“Well, that is hard luck,” said Percy. “That ends our expedition for to-night, sure enough. Look here, Bates. Put one arm over Swayne’s shoulders and the other over mine and we’ll help you along back to the schoolhouse as fast as we can. If you can’t do it in that way, we’ll carry you pick-a-back in turns. I expect we can manage it if we rest often enough.”