72 ON SURREY HILLS. 



" Now then, Marksman," said I, that was the nick- 

 name he went by, " what's up ? Have you got St 

 Vitus's dance, or is it a wasp's nest you've stepped 

 into ? " 



" I ain't got one nor yet t'other ; I'm gettin' 

 owlets." As he said this he held up a ghost moth 

 between his finger and thumb. Then he placed it in 

 his empty tobacco-box, in which were three or four 

 more of the same sort. 



"That'll do fur to-night," he remarked. "Will 

 ye come ? " Then he produced from his pocket 

 a fishing-line wound round a short piece of hazel. 

 I nodded. 



"Are ye going to bide here, or are ye coming in 

 the cover with me ? " 



I chose to remain where I was, for from the open 

 side of the pond I could note all his proceedings, 

 which were always of an interesting nature. 



From some brambles he pulled out a stick about 

 five feet long, forked at the end where it had been 

 cut. The end of the line was securely tied just 

 below the fork ; the rest of it was wound round the 

 outside of the fork, leaving about a foot of strong 

 gut hanging down ; to this a by no means small 



