THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 153 



' Big Wood,' " said he to him one day ; " and likewise in 

 ' Blackthorn Rough ; ' they will make capital preserves." 



" That they sartinly will, Mr. Francis," replied 

 Perren ; " but where am I to get the pheasants to stock 

 them with ? I doubt the Squire will not stand the 

 expense." 



" D n the expense ! " said Francis ; " I will find the 

 pheasants. I can have as many as I like from a man in 

 London ; and if the Squire will not pay for them, I 

 will." 



" But the lookers - out, Mr. Francis," resumed the 

 keeper ; " who is to pay them ? Old Will Hodges and 

 Jack Barret will have no chance against the poachers, 

 when our covers are full of pheasants." 



" I will find lookers-out," answered our hero, " and some 

 of the right sort, too. You must draft those two old 

 cripples, who are quite unequal to their task, and have 

 long been so." 



" Well, to be sure," said Perren, " they are poor creatures 

 for that piirpose, sir, but you know " 



" Yes, yes," exclaimed Francis, " I know what you are 

 going to say ; they are worn out in our service ; but I 

 shall not forget that circumstance ; and I will take care 

 to provide for them, although I believe they have ginned 

 many a hare in their time, and spent the money they sold 

 them for in the alehouse." 



" Well, to be sure," continued Perren, " they both loves 

 a drop of drink, as most people who follows field sports 

 commonly do ; but I never catched them out in selling 

 any game." 



" I daresay not," answered Frank ; " they are both too 

 sly for that." 



Then, again, a conversation took place, in the stable, 

 between the young Squire and the coachman, somewhat to 

 this effect : 



" I must make my father get rid of these infernal long- 

 tailed blacks," said the former ; " they are really only fit 

 for a London black job." 



" You are quite right, sir," observed the latter ; " I am 

 really quite ashamed of them when we go to the races, or 

 to dine at Sir John's, or Lord Morton's. In short, the 

 sarvants make game of me, and tell me I want nothing but 

 the cold-meat cart behind me ; and one of them a London 

 sarvant, who was at the Grange on a visit axed me if I 



