CHAPTER FIVE ON POACHERS 



back and found that the keeper had it, and would not give 

 it up. 'You'll be giving me my property, lad, I'm thinking,' 

 I said to him; but he was just mad like with rage, and said 

 that he would not let me have it. However, I took him by 

 the coat and shook him a bit, and he soon gave it me, but 

 he could na keep his hands off, and as I turned away, he 

 struck me a sair blow with a stick on my back ; so I turned 

 to him, and 'deed I was near beating him weel, but after all 

 I thoch't that the poor lad was only doing his duty, so I 

 only gave him a lift into the burn, taking care not to hurt 

 him; but he got a grand ducking — and. Lord! how he did 

 swear. I was thinking, as I travelled over the hills that day, 

 it was lucky that these twa dogs were not with me, for 

 there would have been wild work in the shealing. Bran 

 there canna bide a scuffle but what he must join in it, and 

 the other dog would go to help him; and the Lord pity the 

 man they took hold of — he would be in a bad way before 

 I could get this one off his throat — wouldn't he, poor 

 dog."*" — and Bran looked up in Ronald's face with such a 

 halflear, half snake-like expression, that I thought to my- 

 self, that I would about as soon encounter a tiger as such a 

 •dog, if his blood was well roused. 



The life of a Highland poacher is a far different one 

 from that of an Englishman following the same profession. 

 Instead of a sneaking night-walking ruffian, a mixture of 

 cowardice and ferocity, as most English poachers are, and 

 ready to commit any crime that he hopes to perpetrate 

 with impunity, the Highlander is a bold fearless fellow, 

 shooting openly by daylight, taking his sport in the same 

 manner as the laird, or the Sassenach who rents the 

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