144 fh e Confessions of a 'Poacher. 



in my veins that's no reason why I shouldn't 

 have my share. But its a queer kind of 

 property that's yours in that field, mine on the 

 turnpike, and a third man's over the next 

 fence." The end of it was, however, a fine of 

 j^5, with an alternative. And so the case 

 ended. But that day the keepers and their 

 assistants had forgotten the first principles of 

 watching. The best keeper is the one that is 

 the least seen. Only let the poacher know his 

 whereabouts, and the latter's work is easy. It 

 was afterwards remarked that during our trial 

 not a poacher was in court. To any keeper 

 skilled in his craft this fact must have appeared 

 unusual and significant. It became even more 

 so when both of us were released by reason of 

 our heavy fine having been paid the same 

 evening. Most of the keepers had had their 

 day out, and were making the most of it. 

 Had their heads not been muddled they might 

 have seen more than one woman labouring 

 under loaded baskets near the local game 

 dealers ; these innocently covered with mant- 

 ling cresses, and so, at the time, escaping 



