CATCHING MY FIRST POACHER. 57 



White House by this time." Old Dick 

 answered back, " Come here ; we've got him 

 here." 



Up came father, with a flitch of bacon, four 

 small loaves, and a jar of beer slung over his 

 shoulder on his gun ; and this in spite of his 

 previous orders to us, about throwing off 

 everything and running up to the first who 

 called. In his fear of my getting hurt, he 

 forgot these things, and so he came pounding 

 along to where we were. He heard all we had 

 to say, and then proceeded to search the 

 poacher, whose name, it appeared, was Tom 

 Tuson, although old Dick was the only one of 

 us who knew him. Father could find nothing 

 incriminating, however, so he said, "Now, 

 Tom, I'll show you out of the wood." Then, 

 as he walked him out, my father continued : 

 "Why, how come you to let young Jack catch 

 you? Didn't you run?" "Run?" growled 

 the poacher; " by George, no. He sprung on 

 me like a tiger, and I was never so unnerved in 

 my life. What with his blue shirt and his 

 long wavy hair, and the way he crouched down 



