The Confessions of a Poacher. 33 



be companionable. Although nearly three 

 score years and ten divided our lives, there 

 was something in common between us. Love 

 of being abroad beneath the moon and stars ; 

 of wild wintry skies ; of the weird cries that 

 came from out the darkness love of every- 

 thing indeed that pertained to the night side 

 of nature. What terrible tales of the sands 

 and marshes the old man would tell as we sat 

 in his turf-covered cottage, listening to the 

 lashing storm and driving water without. Oc- 

 casionally we heard sounds of the Demon 

 Huntsman and his Wish-hounds as they crossed 

 the wintry skies. If Kittiwake knew, he would 

 never admit that these were the wild swans 

 coming from the north, which chose the 

 darkest nights for their migration. When my 

 old tutor saw that I was already skilled in the 

 use of " gins " and " springes," and sometimes 

 brought in a snipe or woodcock, his old 

 eyes glistened as he looked upon the marsh- 

 birds. It was on one such occasion, pleased 

 at my success, that he offered what he had 

 never offered to mortal to teach me the whole 



