THE WOODCOCK 
and curlew passed up and down the country, 
calling in the dark. 
The boggy soil of the field was loose, and 
carried the vibration of an impact as surely as a 
telephone carries sound. The woodcock's bill, 
sensitive as an antenna, detected the splashing 
thud of a single pair of feet. Instinctively he 
flattened himself on the grass, and looking 
upwards saw a bright peculiar star burn ruddily 
above him. The stir of breathing was louder 
than the swish of wind in the rushes. Creaman's 
bill was deep in the mud, and tumbled him 
head over heels as he started up. Four wing 
beats bore him above the red star, but even so 
he saw it shift as though to watch him out of 
sight. He did not hear the exclamation, 
muttered through teeth clenched on a pipe- 
stem : " Whirrah ! the 'cocks is in again ! >! 
II 
At one end of Garrybrack lived a man, whose 
name for certain reasons is not given. The 
wild-folk simply called him the Man, just as 
he in his turn spoke of the Devil. But the 
Man did not fear the Devil, as the wild things 
feared the Man. They knew him as a branch- 
cracking, earth-shaking monster, more to be 
dreaded than any other hunter, in spite of the 
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