154 '^^^ Amateur Poacher 



poacher's wife returns to the table, without her child, 

 angrily pulls out a dirty canvas bag, and throws 

 down three or four sovereigns before the seedy Clerk's 

 clerk. The canvas bag is evidently half-full of money 

 —the gleam of silver and gold is visible within it- 

 The Bench stay to note this proceeding with an 

 amused expression on their features. The woman 

 looks at them as bold as brass, and stalks off with 

 her man. 



Half an hour afterwards, two of the magistrates 

 riding away from the town pass a small tavern on 

 the outskirts. A travelling van is outside, and from 

 the chimney on its roof thin smoke arises. There is 

 a little group at the doorway, and among them stands 

 the late prisoner. Oby holds a foaming tankard in 

 one hand, and touches his battered hat, as the magis- 

 trates go by, with a gesture of sly humility. 



