er, when the snow was
on the ground, I surprised two weasels almost exactly in the same
spot. At other times, too, I have seen solitary stoats and weasels
(which may have had companions in the hedge) hunting along that mound,
both before and since. I was at first going to tell Hilary about the
pack, but afterwards refrained, as he would at once proceed to set up
gins in the run, while I thought I should like to see the animals
again. But I got him to talk about stoats and weasels, and found that
he had not himself seen so many together. There was, however, a man
about the place who told a tale of some weasels he had seen. It was
'that rascal old Aaron;' but he could not listen to such a fellow.
Hilary would tell me nothing further, having evidently a strong
dislike to the man.

It seems there were two Aarons--uncle and nephew: old Aaron was the
arch-poacher of the parish, young Aaron worked regularly at Lucketts'
Place. This young labourer (the man who fell asleep on the
milking-stool) was one of the best of his class--a great, powerful
fellow, but good-natured, willing, and pleasant to speak to. He was a
favourite with many, and with reason, for he had a gentleness of
manner beyond his station; and, till you knew his weakness, you could
not but take an interest in him. His vice was drink. He was always
down at Lucketts' Place; and through him I made acquaintance with his
disreputable uncle, who was at first rather shy of me, for he had seen
me about with Hilary, and between the two there was a mortal feud. Old
Aaron could not keep out of Okebourne Chace, and Hilary was 'down'
upon him. Hilary was, indeed, keener than the keepers.

The old poacher saw the weasels in the 'Pitching.' This was a private
lane, which ran through the recesses of the Chace where the wood was
thickest and most secluded. It had been made for the convenience of
communication between the upper and lower farms, and for hauling
timber; the gates at each end being kept locked. In one place the lane
descended the steepest part of the wooded hill, and in frosty weather
it was not easy even to walk down it there. Sarsen stones, gathered
out of the way of the plough in the arable fields, had been thrown
down in it at various times with the object of making a firm bottom.
Rounded and smooth and very hard, these stones, irregularly placed,
with gaps and intervals, when slippery with hoar frost were most
difficult to walk on. Once or twice men out hunting