nce in his slightest movements what is in the
wind, what bird lies hidden in the grass, or what beast is cowering in
the thicket. By the position of his head, the manner in which he
scratches the ground, pricks his ear, or carries his tail, he
understands as plainly as if he spoke whether he announces the proximity
of a wolf, a partridge, a woodcock, a roebuck, a hare, or a rabbit.

I have known poachers who have told me half an hour beforehand what we
were going to meet. Another would bid his dog bring him a leaf, a
branch, a flower, or a mushroom, and off he went, sought, found, and
brought back the identical article required. "Now, sing," said the
poacher, and the dog began to sing; not, indeed, exactly like Mario, but
he produced a kind of melodious growl, a sort of improvised musical
lament over his solitary life, which had its charm. Most poachers are
exceedingly fond of music, and as they are always singing in their
leisure moments, of course their dog joins them; so that when they are
both in the humour for it, they execute duets in the depths of the
forest that make the very nightingales jealous.

By the time a poacher has acquired a complete knowledge of wood-craft,
and that he knows familiarly every path and every bush in the forest,
every hole and every stone in the mountains, together with the habits,
character, and favourite haunts of every species of game; has made a
reputation, and put by some money; that he is beginning to turn gray,
and is verging on forty, his fondness for this savage kind of life
begins to diminish, his rough exterior becomes somewhat softened, he
purchases a solitary little cottage in some secluded spot, comes oftener
into town, and occasionally partakes of its pleasures.

In poaching, as in everything else, there are varieties of taste, and
degrees of superiority. Some fish, others hunt only the roebuck and the
boar, others shoot squirrels and wild cats, others again excel in
snaring woodcocks, while some are dead hands at scenting and tracking a
wolf. Each poacher has his peculiar line, and each line furnishes a
livelihood.

But when it happens, once in a way, that there is a man who unites a
profound knowledge of the forest to an equally profound knowledge of the
waters--who hunts, tracks, and shoots all sorts of game with equal
success, and is also an expert fisherman, then he is a superior man of
his kind, complete at all points, a sort of Napoleon in his way, and his
count