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"I reckon that's right," he agreed, and made offer to help clear away the supper dishes. "No, you're tired," replied Ross; "rest and smoke. I'll soon be done." The poacher each moment seemed less of the hardened criminal, and more and more of the man prematurely aged by sickness and dissipation, and gradually the ranger lost all feeling of resentment.
And even as he did reach it, a hand was on his throat, almost choking him, and a tremendous voice cried, "You young poacher, you sha'n't get off that way! I'll have you up to the Bench, that I will, for shooting the poor old turkey-cock before my very eyes." "Oh! don't, don't! I didn't mean it," cried Hal, turning in the terrible grip; "I thought it was only a rook!" "A rook, I dare say!
If in terror he would go so quickly as to be almost invisible. In places where the fish have been much disturbed the poacher, or any one who desires to watch their habits, has to move as slowly as the hands of a clock, and even then they will scarcely bear the very sight of a man, sometimes not at all. The least briskness of movement would send them into the depths out of sight.
Thereafter he wrote for the Pall Mall Gazette, in which appeared his Gamekeeper at Home, and Wild Life in a Southern County , both afterwards repub. Both these works are full of minute observation and vivid description of country life. They were followed by The Amateur Poacher , Wood Magic , Round about a Great Estate , The Open Air , and others on similar subjects.
The principal works of this sculptor are: "A Russian Horse"; "Lost Dogs"; "Russian Greyhounds"; "Huntsmen and a Poacher," in the Museum of Semur; "Combat of Dogs," purchased by the Government; "Cow and Calf," in the Museum of Nevers; "Stag and Bloodhound," in the Museum of Troyes, etc. At the Salon, Artistes Français, 1902, Mme.
"Never does a stroke o' work for nobody, sir. And how he lives is just one o' them mysteries that can't be dived into. He's a poacher, a snarer, and a robber of the fishponds any one of 'em when he gets the chance; leastways it's said so; and he looks just like a wild man o' the woods; wilder than any Robison Crusoe! And he but you might not like me to mention that, sir."
But now, if not Bacon, then some other concealed poet of high position, with a mysterious passion for rewriting and transforming plays by sad, needy authors, is in close contact with Will Shakspere, the Warwickshire poacher and ignorant butcher's boy, country schoolmaster, draper's apprentice, enfin, tout le tremblement. "How strange, how more than strange!"
Other picturesque stories cluster round the city, the best of which are the following. The Poacher of Frankfort In the city of Frankfort-on-the-Main stands a five-pointed tower, and in the midst of one of these points is a vane containing nine round holes, forming the figure 9.
It was Rundle, the poacher, and his dog, and there was blood on Rundle's hand, blood trickling down from a wound in the dog's side. The man was holding the dog as he might have held a child. The big ugly yellow head was against the man's breast, and in its agony the dog was licking the man's rough hand. And watching, there came back to Ellice's memory what she had said of this man and his dog.
I like to think that Shakespeare was fond of his glass. I even cling to the tale of that disgraceful final orgie with friend Ben Jonson. Possibly the story may not be true, but I hope it was. I like to think of him as poacher, as village ne'er-do-well, denounced by the local grammar-school master, preached at by the local J. P. of the period.
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