long Farmer Hall's field--the one next to the squire's
plantation--and, so far from being nervous, 'e was actually a-whistling.
He'd got a sack over 'is shoulder, loaded as full as it could be, and 'e
'ad just stopped to light 'is pipe when three men burst out o' the
plantation and ran toward 'im as 'ard as they could run.

[Illustration: "Three men burst out o' the plantation."]

Bob Pretty just gave one look and then 'e dropped 'is pipe and set off
like a hare. It was no good dropping the sack, because Smith, the
keeper, 'ad recognised 'im and called 'im by name, so 'e just put 'is
teeth together and did the best he could, and there's no doubt that if it
'adn't ha' been for the sack 'e could 'ave got clear away.

As it was, 'e ran for pretty near a mile, and they could 'ear 'im
breathing like a pair o' bellows; but at last 'e saw that the game was
up. He just man-aged to struggle as far as Farmer Pinnock's pond, and
then, waving the sack round his 'ead, 'e flung it into the middle of it,
and fell down gasping for breath.

"Got--you--this time--Bob Pretty," ses one o' the men, as they came up.

"Wot--Mr. Cutts?" ses Bob, with a start. "That's me, my man," ses the
keeper.

"Why--I thought--you was. Is that Mr. Lewis? It can't be."

"That's me," ses Keeper Lewis. "We both got well sudden-like, Bob
Pretty, when we 'eard you was out. You ain't so sharp as you thought you
was."

Bob Pretty sat still, getting 'is breath back and doing a bit o' thinking
at the same time.

"You give me a start," he ses, at last. "I thought you was both in bed,
and, knowing 'ow hard worked Mr. Smith 'as been, I just came round to
'elp 'im keep watch like. I promised to 'elp you, Mr. Cutts, if you
remember."

"Wot was that you threw in the pond just now?" ses Mr. Cutts.

"A sack," ses Bob Pretty; "a sack I found in Farmer Hall's field. It
felt to me as though it might 'ave birds in it, so I picked it up, and I
was just on my way to your 'ouse with it, Mr. Cutts, when you started
arter me."

"Ah!" ses the keeper, "and wot did you run for?"

Bob Pretty tried to laugh. "Becos I thought it was the poachers arter
me," he ses. "It seems ridikilous, don't it?"

"Yes, it does," ses Lewis.

"I thought you'd know me a mile off," ses Mr. Cutts. "I should ha'
thought the smell o' roses would ha' told you I was near."

Bob Pretty scratched 'is 'ead and looked at 'im out of the corner of 'is
eye, but he 'adn't got any answer.