The Poacher | Page 3

returned with a quart mug of beer.
The schoolmaster emptied half the mug, and then handed it to the pedlar.
"And my little friend Joey, fast asleep, I'll warrant!"
"Yes, poor child, and so should I have been by this time; the clock has gone twelve."
"Well, Mrs Rushbrook, I wish you a good night. Come, Mr Byres, Mrs Rushbrook must want to be in bed."
"Good night, Mr Furness, and good night, sir, and many thanks."
The schoolmaster and pedlar quitted the cottage. Mrs Rushbrook, after having watched them for a minute, carefully closed the door.
"They're gone now," said she, as she turned to her husband.
What would have created much astonishment could anybody else have witnessed it, as soon as his wife had spoken, Rushbrook immediately sprang upon his feet, a fine-looking man, six feet in height, very erect in his bearing,--and proved to be perfectly sober.
"Jane, my dear," said he, "there never was such a night: but I must be quick, and lose no time. Is my gun ready?"
"Everything's ready; Joey is lying down on his bed, but all ready dressed, and he awakes in a minute."
"Call him, then, for there is no time to lose. That drunken fool, Furness, proposed throwing me over the bridge. It was lucky for them that they did not try it, or I should have been obliged to settle them both, that they might tell no tales. Where's Mum?"
"In the wash-house. I'll bring him and Joey directly."
The wife left the room, while Rushbrook took down his gun and ammunition, and prepared himself for his expedition. In a minute or two a shepherd's dog, which had been released from the wash-house, made his appearance, and quietly lay down close to his master's feet; it was soon followed by Mrs Rushbrook, accompanied by Joey, a thin, meagre-looking boy, of about twelve years old, very small for his age, but apparently as active as a cat, and with energy corresponding. No one would have thought he had been roused from his sleep; there was no yawning or weariness of motion--on the contrary, his large eye was as bright as an eagle's, as he quietly, although quickly, provided himself with a sack, which he threw over his shoulders, and a coil of line, which he held in his hand, waiting until his father was ready to start. The wife put out the lights, softly opened the cottage-door, looked well round, and then returned to her husband, who, giving a low whistle, as a summons to Joey and the dog, walked out of the door. Not a word was spoken; the door was softly shut to; and the trio crept stealthily away.
CHAPTER TWO.
IN WHICH THE HERO OF THE TALE IS FORMALLY INTRODUCED.
Before we proceed with our narrative, perhaps it will be better to explain what may appear very strange to the reader. Joseph Rushbrook, who has just left the cottage with his son and his dog, was born in the village in which he was then residing. During his younger days, some forty years previous to his present introduction to the reader, the law was not so severe, or the measures taken against poachers so strong as they were at the period of which we write. In his youth he had been very fond of carrying a gun--as his father had been before him--but he never was discovered; and after having poached for many years, and gained a perfect knowledge of the country for miles round, he was persuaded, in a fit of semi-intoxication, at a neighbouring fair, to enlist in a marching regiment. He had not been more than three months at the depot when he was ordered out to India, where he remained eleven years before he was recalled. He had scarcely been six months in England, when the exigency of the war demanded the services of the regiment in the Mediterranean, where he remained for twelve years, and having received a severe wound in the head, he was then pensioned off and discharged. He resolved to return to his native village, and settle down quietly, hoping by moderate labour and his pension, to gain a comfortable living. On his return he was hardly known; many had emigrated to a foreign clime; many had been transported for offences against the laws, particularly for the offence of poaching: and as most of his former allies had been so employed, he found himself almost a stranger where he expected to meet with friends. The property also about the village had changed hands. People recollected Squire So-and-So, and the Baronet, but now their lands were held by wealthy manufacturers or retired merchants. All was new to Joe Rushbrook, and he felt himself anywhere but at home. Jane Ashley, a very beautiful young woman, who was in service at the Hall, the mansion appertaining to