at. Christmas, and when Christmas came,
they told him to wait till midsummer. Oh, won't I serve 'em out if ever
I'm a doctor!"

"What would you do?" I said.

"Give 'em such a dose!"

"Not you, Tom."

"Oh, won't I! I don't care, though; father gave me a crown and mamma
half a one."

"And enough too. What a fellow you are to grumble!"

"That I'm not. I wanted 'em to buy me a watch."

"Get out! What a fellow you are! Next time the chaps want a nickname
for you, I shall call you Watchman."

"All right! I don't mind; but I shan't be happy till I have a watch."

"That's what you used to say about Magglin's take-to-pieces gun, but you
never got it, and you've been happy enough without."

"Oh, have I?" said Mercer. "You don't know. I used to long for that
gun."

Two or three days afterwards, in one of our strolls, when we were both
coming back laden with odds and ends for the museum up in the loft,
Mercer proposed that we should cross a field and get into the lower
lane, so as to call at Polly Hopley's to get something to eat.

I was nothing loth, and we struck off across country, got into the lane
about a couple of hundred yards from the keeper's lodge, and then
suddenly stopped short.

"Hush!" I said, as shouts and cries reached our ears.

"There's something the matter," cried Mercer. "Come on."

We set off at a run, and as we passed a bend in the lane, we came full
in sight of the keeper's cottage, and saw him in the middle of the road,
holding a rough-looking figure by the collar, keeping it down upon its
knees, while he vigorously used a stick upon the object's back, in spite
of cries and protestations, till there was a sudden wrench, and whoever
it was dragged himself away and ran down the lane, Polly Hopley standing
at the cottage door laughing, while her father wiped his brow with the
sleeve of his coat.

"Hullo, young gents!" he cried. "You were just too late to see the
fun."

"Saw some of it, Bob," I said. "But who was it?"

"Didn't you see, sir?"

"I did," cried Mercer. "It was old Magglin."

"Yes, and I'll Magglin him!" cried Bob wrathfully.

"What's he been doing?" I said. "Poaching?"

"Eh? Yes, sir, poaching, that's what he's been up to," said Bob, with a
side glance at Polly, who threw her apron over her face, burst out
laughing, and ran into the cottage. "He've been told over and over
again to keep away, but it's no good, so I've started this here hazel
saplin'