The Poacher. 351 



up their trail through the wood, now that he had nothing to guide 

 him. He called up his men to hold a consultation as to what 

 was best to be done ; and this was lucky, for it allowed them to 

 gather breath for what was coming. 



The old oak under which the poachers were gathered stood in a 

 forest clearing, with, perhaps, open grass for a hundred yards round 

 it on all sides. The keepers were standing consulting in the thick 

 wood within two hundred yards of the tree, little thinking how near 

 they were to the poachers. They would probably have turned back, 

 when all of a sudden the heavy clouds drifting away from the face 

 of the moon, she shone out in all her glory. Only for a few minutes j 

 but those few minutes enabled the keepers to see the poachers ; 

 and Johnson's shout of triumph, " Here they are ! close in, my 

 lads !" warned them that nothing was left for them but to stand up 

 and fight like men. All their faces were blackened, and many of 

 them disfigured with red patches, and they formed a wild group 

 when their uncouth figures and the old dead tree were suddenly 

 brought into bold relief by the moon's shimmering rays. The keepers 

 dashed into the open space, but the poachers presented a formidable 

 front, for those who had guns were ranged in a line — every muzzle 

 presented to them. They drew back, and rather hesitated, and 

 Johnson's challenge of " Come, my men — no nonsense ! we know 

 you all, so you d better give it up !" was met by a derisive cheer 

 from the poachers, who bade them come on if they dared. John- 

 son's blood was up. He had recognised his old enemy, Hammerton, 

 in the crowd, and he was determined to have him or die in the 

 attempt. Heedless of all consequences, he rushed in at him, and 

 the keepers, instead of showing a front line, followed him in Indian 

 file, and the attack was so sudden that only two guns were fired, 

 one charge wounding a keeper in the thigh. ^' No firing ! butt- 

 ends, my lads !" roared out Hammerton, as he sprung aside and 

 aimed a heavy blow at Johnson's head with the butt-end of his gun 3 

 but the hayfork stood the keeper in good need, for he skilfully 

 parried a blow which would probably have dashed his brains out if 

 it had reached him, and, recovering himself, he brought Hammer- 



