"Where spring-guns and steel-traps were set every night," said I.
"Not a bit of it," said Daly. "I went on, following my nose, until I found myself at the edge of a copse, which I began to think looked extremely like Squire Bagswash's preserve. However, it was not that; but I heard people talking at no great distance, and a call of 'Halloo!' How to act I did not exactly know, with a gun and a bagfull of cocks and hens, and a venerable rabbit to boot. What could I do? To have answered the call would have been to be detected as a poacher in the dark. I resolved, at all events, on getting rid of my poultry in the first instance, and accordingly emptied my store, rabbit, tail, and all, and proceeded somewhat more gaily after having thrown out my ballast; yet not without some apprehension, either of being shot by the keepers for a poacher, or by the poachers for a keeper; I so got clear of the whistling firs and moaning larches as fast as I could, still utterly ignorant of my course."
"And getting late," said I.
"It must then have been past eight," said Daly. "On I trudged; scrambled over the furrows of one field, and through the turnips in another; and so on and on, until at last I was forced to sit myself down on a gate and rest; and, I give you my word, although I have known a great deal of the world, I never was so dead beat in my life as I was then. Not a house could I see. The glimmering of a rushlight in a cottage window would, in my eyes, have been thrice more brilliant than the whole regalia of England collected. But no: there were no cottages—no rushlights; and I do believe I went the length of swearing at my own stupidity in undertaking my solitary excursion. Only one set-off was there to the whole thing;—I had seen the Bagswashes, male and female, and laid in materials for an historiette for the next evening—that is, if I really survived the present one; but I began to feel cold, and hungry, and thirsty. However, it appeared pretty certain that out of the fields I must get, if I went straight on end, and could not well fail of fetching up in a road somewhere at last."
"Which, as you are here alive to tell the tale," said I, "of course you did."
"Why, yes," said Daly, "I did; but it was not for a long time; and then I had come to a full stop; and, striking the butt of my Manton on the ground, I swore, by stock and barrel, that I would not budge from under a huge tree which overshadowed me till daylight came to my aid. I was ravenous—I was chilled—I was wretched—I was tired to death; but why tire myself more?—and accordingly, feeling, and I daresay looking, very like the dear Don of La Mancha, I sat myself down with my back against the trunk, and, if you'll believe me, fell fast asleep."
"Asleep!" said I.
"Fast as a church," said Daly, "and dreamt—dreamt, first, that I was starving,—that, I think, must have been a sort of waking vision; then, that I was at a ball; and then I dreamt of being safe back at mine host's hospitable mansion; and then I had a confused, hurly-burly kind of a dream, either that I was Sir Marmaduke Wrigglesworth, or that Lady Wrigglesworth was Mrs. Daly, or something of that sort, and that I tumbled out of bed, which tumble was to me a 'dying fall;' for I rolled over on my side, and woke—in no bed—in no house, but where I had lain me down, under the tree before-mentioned."
"You must have caught your death of cold?" said I.
"No, Dalys and cats are very tenacious," said my jocular friend; "I roused myself—sat up and listened—recollected where I was, and heard at the same moment what was really 'sweet music to mine ear,' the sound of a bell-team. Ho! ho! says I—you are there, are you?—where there are bells there are horses—where there's a team there's a waggon—where there's a waggon there's a road—up I jumped, and as fast as I could, just roused from my slumbers, scrambled over brambles and clambered over fences, until I caught sight of the waggoner's lantern waggling on the side of the tilt like a bright pendulum to regulate the wheels; the moment I saw that I knew I was landed, and, after encountering a few of those thumps and bumps which 'flesh is heir to,' found myself on a high road. Waggons, even those called 'flies,' may be overtaken, and although dead beat, and sore of foot, I soon came up with the eight plaited-tailed animals which were dragging the mountain, second only in size to the Juggernaut idol.