152 The Confessions of a Poacher. 



encounters with keepers and others. And in 

 this he is right. But there is some difficulty in 

 my additional task for the following reasons : 

 I have never cared to take much credit to 

 myself for having broken the head of a keeper, 

 and there is but little pleasure to me in re- 

 counting the occasions when keepers have 

 broken mine. However, speaking of broken 

 heads reminds me of an incident which was 

 amusing, though, at the time, somewhat pain- 

 ful to me. 



One night in November when the trees were 

 bare, and the pheasants had taken to the 

 branches, we were in a mixed wood of pine 

 and beech. A good many birds roosted on 

 its confines, and, to a practised eye, were not 

 difficult to see against the moon as they 

 sat on the lower limbs of the trees, near the 

 trunks. I and my companion had old, strong 

 guns with barrels filed down, and, as we 

 got very near to the birds, we were using 

 small charges of powder. As the night was 

 windy the shots would not be heard very far, 

 and we felt fairly safe. When we had obtained 



