had
been ineffectually dancing round Tregarva like a gamecock spurring
at a bull, turned off with a voice of ineffable disgust,--

'That big cove's a yokel; ta'nt creditable to waste science on him.
You're my man, if you please, sir,'--and the little wiry lump of
courage and conceit, rascality and good humour, flew at Lancelot,
who was twice his size, 'with a heroism worthy of a better cause,'
as respectable papers, when they are not too frightened, say of the
French.

* * * * *

'Do you want any more?' asked Lancelot.

'Quite a pleasure, sir, to meet a scientific gen'lman. Beg your
pardon, sir; stay a moment while I wipes my face. Now, sir, time,
if you please.'

Alas for the little man! in another moment he tumbled over and lay
senseless--Lancelot thought he had killed him. The gang saw their
champion fall, gave ground, and limped off, leaving three of their
party groaning on the ground, beside as many Whitford men.

As it was in the beginning, so is it to be to the end, my foolish
brothers! From the poacher to the prime minister--wearying
yourselves for very vanity! The soldier is not the only man in
England who is fool enough to be shot at for a shilling a day.

But while all the rest were busy picking up the wounded men and
securing the prisoners, Harry Verney alone held on, and as the
poachers retreated slowly up the ride, he followed them, peering
into the gloom, as if in hopes of recognising some old enemy.

'Stand back, Harry Verney; we know you, and we'd be loth to harm an
old man,' cried a voice out of the darkness.

'Eh? Do you think old Harry'd turn back when he was once on the
track of ye? You soft-fisted, gin-drinking, counter-skipping
Cockney rascals, that fancy you're to carry the county before you,
because you get your fines paid by London-tradesmen! Eh? What do
you take old Harry for?'

'Go back, you old fool!' and a volley of oaths followed. 'If you
follow us, we'll fire at you, as sure as the moon's in heaven!'

'Fire away, then! I'll follow you to--!' and the old man paced
stealthily but firmly up to them.

Tregarva saw his danger and sprang forward, but it was too late.

'What, you will have it, then?'

A sharp crack followed,--a bright flash in the darkness--every white
birch-stem and jagged oak-leaf shone out for a moment as bright as
day--and in front of the glare Lancelot saw the old man throw his
arms wildly upward, fall forward, and