The Poacher. 361 



them down the sheep's head out of the pocket of his greasy old 

 shooting-jacket, and delivered himself up as though in custody. 

 It was a capital play. I could have picked every sheep-stealer 

 out of that group, merely by watching their countenances at that 

 moment. 



The hounds were stationed at Russell's ; he was appointed hunts- 

 man, and the rat-catcher ran the drag twice a week during the 

 winter. The news soon spread far and wide, and for three or four 

 months none of our farmers lost a single sheep. But one Saturday 

 night, when the ewes were lambing, in March, a fat ewe was taken 

 out of Jack Russell's own flock. The loss was discovered in the 

 morning about five. There was a nasty little hoar-frost on the 

 ground, and the scent had got very cold. But the hounds were laid 

 on directly, and after a slow run of two hours, they took us to a 

 village nearly six miles distant, inhabited, if possible, by as bad a 

 lot as our own. They picked the scent up steadily step by step, to 

 the door of a cottage which they would not leave. Mr. Russell did 

 not stop to inquire whether he had any right or not to enter the 

 house without a warrant, but kicked the door open at once. Two 

 men sat at breakfast, with plates of sheep's liver before them (no 

 doubt the property of Mr. Russell), and in the corner of the house 

 lay the skin of the sheep just taken off. We secured this, and the 

 next day the men were apprehended. They confessed, and were 

 transported for seven years. 



We never lost a sheep after this j but we kept the hounds on, 

 and running these drags became such a fashionable amusement 

 among our hard-riding farmers that we always ran them on by- 

 days when the hounds were not out. We often used to have 

 from twenty to thirty well-mounted men at our meets, and, as 

 Russell always picked a stiff line of country, whenever there was a 

 good scent our drag hunts were more like steeple-chases than any- 

 thing else. This just suited the men who lived round us at that 

 time (I often wonder what sort of a lot live there now), and espe- 

 cially Jack Russell, who was always making some young one up 

 for the hounds ; and in this kind of hunting, as he observed, you 



