172 THE LIFE OF THE FIELDS. 



the shuffling, mincing step so common in towns. That 

 alone will disturb everything. Indeed, I have often 

 thought that a good and successful wild hunter — like 

 the backwoodsman, or the sportsman in African bush 

 or Indian j angle — is really made as much by his feet as 

 his eyes or hands. Unconsciously he feels with his feet ; 

 they come to know the exact time to move, whether a 

 long or short stride be desirable, and where to put down, 

 not to rustle or cause a cracking sound, and accommodate 

 themselves to the slope of the ground, touching it and 

 holding it like hands. A great many people seem to 

 have no feet ; they have boots, but no feet. They stamp 

 or clump, or swing their boots along and knock the 

 ground at every step ; this matters not in most call- 

 ings, but if a man wish to become what I have called 

 a wild hunter, he must let his feet learn. He must 

 walk with hands in his boots. Now and then a 

 person walks like this naturally, and he will come in 

 and tell you that he has seen a fish basking, a par- 

 tridge, a hare, or what not, when another never gets 

 near anything. This is where they have not been 

 much disturbed by loafers, who are worse than 

 poachers. 



As a rule, poachers are intermittent in their action, 

 and they do not want to disturb the game, as it makes 

 it wild and interferes with their profits. Loafers are 

 not intermittent — they are always about, often in 

 gangs, and destroy others' sport without having any 

 themselves. Near large towns there are places where 

 the fish have to be protected with hurdles thrown 

 across the stream on poles, that the stones and brick- 

 bats hurled by every rascal passing may not make 



