The Confessions of a Poacher. 139 



and a substantial " tip " gave speed to his not 

 unwilling legs. The game, however, was not 

 to occupy the cart. A donkey with panniers 



was waiting in a clump'of brush by the covert 

 side, and as soon as the panniers were packed, 

 its head was turned homeward over a wild bit 

 of moorland. With the start obtained, chase 

 would have been fruitless had it ever been 

 contemplated which it never was. I need 

 not detail the sequel to the incident here, and 



