A Winter Night 223 



the guns nor the dogs. Those in the kennels close 

 to the cottage, and very likely one or more indoors, 

 must have barked at the noise of the shooting. But 

 if any dim sense of the uproar did reach the keeper's 

 ear he put it down to the moon, at which dogs will 

 bay. As for his assistants, they had quietly gone 

 home, so soon as they felt sure that the keeper was 

 housed for the night. Long immunity from attack had 

 bred over-confidence ; the staff also was too small 

 for the extent of the place, and this had doubtless 

 become known. No one sleeps so soundly as an 

 agricultural labourer ; and as the nearest hamlet was 

 at some distance it is not surprising that they did not 

 wake. 



In the early morning a fogger going to fodder his 

 cattle came across a pheasant lying dead on the 

 path, the snow stained with its blood. He picked it 

 up, and put it under his smock-frock, and carried it 

 to the pen, where he hid it under some litter, intend- 

 ing to take it home. But afterwards, as he crossed 

 the fields towards the farm, he passed near the wood 

 and observed the tracks of many feet and a gap in 

 the fence. He looked through the gap and saw that 

 the track went into the preserves. On second 

 thoughts he went back for the pheasant and took it 

 to his master. 



