It was a fortnight before I
had a chance of picking up the wires again, and we was about perished."
Cold, wet, and all other inconveniences are nothing to the poacher.
Presently my man chuckled grimly. "Had a near shave over there where you
see them ar' trees. I had my old dorg out one night, and two commarades
along with me. We did werra well at that gate we just passed, so we
tries another field. Do you think that there owd dorg 'ud go in? Not he.
There never was such a one for 'cuteness. We was all in our poachin'
clothes, faces blacked, women's nightcaps on, and shirts on over our
coats. Well, the light come in the sky, and I separates from my mates,
for I sees the owd dorg put up a hare and coorse her. I follows him, and
he gits up for first turn; then puss begins to turn very quick to throw
the dorg out before she made her last run to cover. He was on the scut,
the old rip--catch him leave her--and I gits excited, and, like a fool,
I chevies him on. In a minute I sees a man running at me, and off I goes
for the gate.
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