The Confessions of a 'Poacher. 147 



miss the dog, throw off one's coat, plump 

 down upon the first stone heap on the road, 

 and go to work. If the thing is neatly done, 

 and the " preserves " cover the face, it is 

 wonderful how often this ruse is successful. 

 The keeper may put a hasty question, but he 

 oftener rushes after his man. Mention of 

 stone-heaps reminds me of the fact that they 

 are better " hides " for nets than almost any- 

 thing else, especially the larger unbroken 

 heaps. We invariably hid our big cumbrous 

 fishing nets beneath them, and the stones 

 were just as invariably true to their trust. 



Going back to my earliest poaching days I 

 remember a cruel incident which had a very 

 different ending to what its author intended. 

 A young keeper had made a wager that he 

 would effect my capture within a certain num- 

 ber of days, and my first intimation of this 

 fact was a sickening sight which I discovered 

 in passing down a woodland glade just at dawn 

 on a bright December morning. I heard a 

 groan, and a few yards in front saw a man 

 stretched across the ride. His clothes were 



