friend." And the poacher having dealt his own broad breast a
blow that would have knocked a tailor down, stretched out to Acton the
huge hand that had inflicted it.

"More than that, Roger--hark to this, man!" and, as he slapped his
breeches pocket, there was the chink as of a mine of money shaken to its
foundations: "hark to this, man! and more than hark, have! Here, good
wife, hold your apron!" And he flung into her lap a handful of silver.

Roger gave a sudden shout of wonder, joy, and avarice: and then as
instantaneously turning very pale, he slowly muttered, "Hush, Ben! is it
bloody money?" and almost shrieked as he added, "and my poor boy Tom,
too, with you! God-a-mercy, mun! how came ye by it?"

"Honestly, neighbour, leastways, middling honest: don't damp a good
fellow's heart, when he means to serve you."

"Tell me only that my boy is innocent!--and the money--yes, yes, I'll
keep the money;" for his wife seemed to be pushing it from her at the
thought.

"I innocent, father! I never know'd till this minute that Ben had any
blunt at all--did I, Ben?--and I only brought him and Rover here to sup,
because I thought it neighbourly and kind-like."

Poor Tom had till now been very silent: some how the pheasants lay heavy
on his stomach.

"Is it true, Ben, is it true? the lad isn't a thief, the lad isn't a
murderer? Oh, God! Burke, tell me the truth!

"Blockhead!" was the courteous reply, "what, not believe your own son?
Why, neighbour Acton, look at the boy: would that frank-faced,
open-hearted fellow do worse, think you, than Black Burke? And would I,
bad as I be, turn the bloody villain to take a man's life? No,
neighbour; Ben kills game, not keepers: he sets his wire for a hare, but
wouldn't go to pick a dead man's pocket. All that's wrong in me, mun,
the game-laws put there; but I'm neither burglar, murderer,
highwayman--no, nor a mean, sneaking thief; however the quality may
think so, and even wish to drive me to it. Neither, being as I be no
rogue, could I bear to live a fool; but I should be one, neighbour, and
dub myself one too, if I didn't stoop to pick up money that a madman
flings away."

"Madman? pick up money? tell us how it was, Ben," interposed female
curiosity.

"Well, neighbours, listen: I was a-setting my night-lines round Pike
Island yonder, more nor a fortnight back; it was a dark night and a
mizzling, or morning rather, 'twixt three and four; by the same token,
I'd caught a power of