A little farther on, the road ran across a field, and when he was near the middle he saw something move behind a gorse bush. Although it looked like a man's head, he did not stop. Going on, as if he had seen nothing, until he was close to the gorse, he left the track and walked swiftly but softly across the gra.s.s. When he reached the bush a man who had been crouching behind it sprang to his feet. He was tall and roughly dressed, and looked like a shepherd or farm-hand.

"Weel," he said with a truculent air, "what is it ye want with me?"

The question somewhat relieved Foster, who now noted the end of a long, thin net in the gra.s.s.

"I was curious to see what you were doing. Then I meant to ask the way to Langsyke."

"What are ye wanting there?"

"To stay the night. I was directed to a change-house where they'd take me in."

"They might. Ye're a stranger, and ye'll tak' the road again the morn?"

Foster said he meant to do so and the other pondered.

"Weel, there's a soft flow where ye might get mired if ye left the road, which is no' that plain, and I could set ye on the way, but there's a bit job I'll hae to finish first." He paused and added with a grin as he indicated the net: "Maybe ye hae a notion what it is."

"I imagine it's connected with somebody else's grouse or partridges, but that's not my business. You'll be a shilling or two richer if you show me the way."

"Then the sooner I'm finished here, the sooner we'll be off, though I doot we hae fleyt the paltrig. Bide ye by the whinns, and when ye see me at the d.y.k.e come forrad with the net. If I lift my airm, ye'll stop."

He went off with the end of the net, and Foster waited, half amused.

The fellow probably wanted to ensure his saying nothing about the poaching by making him an accomplice, but this did not matter much. It was an adventure and he was anxious to find a guide. By the way the net unwound and slipped across the gra.s.s he thought there was another man at work, but he carried his part forward as he had been told and then dropped it and sat down among some rushes. Two indistinct figures were moving towards each other and he got up presently when one signaled. When he joined them a number of small dark objects showed through the net.

"Hae!" said a man who opened the meshes, and added when Foster picked up two limp birds: "We've no' done so bad."

Then Foster remembered the man he had seen as he came along the road.

"How many of you are in the gang?" he asked.

"There's twa o' us her. I'm thinking that's a' ye need ken."

"It's what I meant," said Foster apologetically. "Still I pa.s.sed another fellow hiding, a short distance back."

The men, saying nothing, took out the birds and began to roll up the net. Foster had now four partridges, which they seemed to expect him to carry, and was putting their legs together so as to hold them conveniently when he heard a rattle of stones. Then a dark figure leaped down from the wall and somebody shouted: "Stand where ye are or I'll put a chairge o' number four in ye!"

A leveled gun twinkled in the moonlight, and for a moment Foster hesitated. He hardly thought the man would shoot, and it would be awkward if he was arrested with the partridges in his hand. Springing suddenly forward, he struck, from below upwards, with his stick. There was a flash and a report, but he felt himself unharmed and brought the stick down upon the gamekeeper's head. He heard the gun drop, and then turned and, keeping in the shadow of the wall, ran across the field.

When he was near the opposite end, he saw another man waiting to cut him off, and seizing the top of the d.y.k.e swung himself over. He came down among withered fern and ran back behind the wall towards the spot where he had left his first antagonist, until he struck a small, winding hollow through which water flowed. This seemed to offer a good hiding-place, but Foster knew better, although he followed it for a short distance. One can often hide best in the open and it was prudent to avoid the obvious line of search. Creeping out of the hollow, he made for a clump of rushes and felt satisfied when he lay down behind it. His waterproof and cap were gray, and his pursuers would have to search all the field before they found him, unless they were lucky.

After a few minutes, he saw them, but while one plunged into the hollow, the other sat on top of the wall. This seemed to be the fellow he had struck, and Foster was relieved to see he was not badly hurt.

The man, however, occupied a commanding position, because Foster's chance of remaining unseen depended largely on the searcher's height above the ground. He knew from experience gained in hunting that a very small object will hide a man so long as the line of sight he must avoid is nearly horizontal, but the fellow on the wall could see over the rushes. In consequence, immobility was his only resource, and he very cautiously turned his head enough to enable him to see.

The gamekeeper who had entered the hollow presently came back into the field and began to walk methodically up and down, and Foster regretted his rashness in helping with the net. The poachers had vanished, but the others seemed to know there was somebody about, and since they were gamekeepers would be hard to deceive. His cover was not good, and although he might have changed his place when the fellow in the field was farthest away, he feared that a movement would betray him to the other on the wall.

In the meantime, the chill of the wet soil crept through his mackintosh and his hands got numbed. He thrust them into the mossy gra.s.s for fear they should show in the moonlight, and buried his face in the rushes, which p.r.i.c.kled his skin. He could, with some trouble, see through the clump and anxiously watched the fellow who came steadily nearer. Now and then he turned aside to examine a whinn bush, and Foster saw that he had acted wisely when he dropped behind the rushes. Had he chosen a prominent object for cover, he would have been caught.

At length, the searcher crossed the field on a line that would bring him close to where Foster lay, and the latter let his face sink lower and tried to check his breathing. He durst not look about, but heard the man's heavy boots splash in the boggy gra.s.s, until the fellow suddenly stopped. Foster thought he had seen him, but did not move.

In the Northwest, he had now and then caught a jack-rabbit by carefully marking its hiding-place, but had not seen it afterwards until he nearly trod upon the crouching animal. It was comforting to remember that his pursuers had not watched him drop behind the rushes.

"Hae ye seen aught, Jock?" the keeper near him called, and Foster was conscious of keen relief.

"Naething ava," answered the other. "If he went doon the burn, he's no' come oot."

"He's no' there; ye would ha' seen him if he'd headed back."

There was silence for a moment or two and Foster heard the water bubble in the moss as the man moved his foot. The fellow would tread upon him if he took a few steps in the right direction, but his mackintosh was much the color of the withered gra.s.s and his face and hands were hidden.

Then the man on the wall remarked in a thoughtful tone: "I'm no' quite sure he went ower the d.y.k.e. Ye see, I was kin' o' staggered by the clout on the head, and he might ha' slippit oot by the gate."

"It will be Lang Pate, of course."

"Just him," agreed the other. "He was near enough to reach me with his stick and the light no' that bad. Besides, wha' else would it be?"

Foster, seeing that he had escaped notice, felt amused. Long Pete was suspected and therefore judged guilty; the keeper's last argument banished doubt.

"My heid's sair," the man resumed. "We'll look if they've gone doon the glen, and then tak' the road if ye'll row up the net."

The other crossed the field and Foster lay still until he heard him climb the wall and afterwards made for a hole that led into the road.

Somewhat to his surprise, he found that he had brought the partridges.

He followed the road quietly, keeping in the shadow of a d.y.k.e, although he thought the gamekeepers had gone the other way, and on turning a corner came upon the poachers lurking behind a thorn bush.

"We thought they had caught ye," one remarked.

"I suppose you were anxious about it, because you were afraid I might put them on your track."

"I canna say ye're altogether wrang, but whaur are they the noo?"

"Looking for you in the glen, I believe. But which of you is Long Pete?"

The man he had met first said it was his name, and Foster resumed: "Then I imagine the fellow with the gun means to declare that you struck him."

"He would!" Pete remarked, grinning. "Weel, it's lucky I hae twa three friends wha'll show that I couldna' ha' been near the spot just then.

But we'll need to hurry."

"I think I understand," said Foster, who went on with them. "Still you can't save much time, even if you walk very fast."

"Verra true," Pete replied. "But it's no' difficult to pit back the clock."

Leaving the road presently, they struck across a bog that got softer as they advanced until Foster felt the rotten turf tremble beneath his feet. All round were clumps of rushes, patches of smooth but treacherous moss, and holes where water glimmered in the moonlight. He imagined it was a dangerous place for a stranger to cross, but his companions knew the way, and although he sank to the top of his boots they reached firmer ground. Soon afterwards, Pete showed him a rough track that crossed the side of a hill.

"Yon's your road and ye'll see the clachan in aboot a mile. If they're no' verra willing to tak' ye in, ye can tell them ye're a freend o'

mine."

Foster thanked him and followed the track, which led him to a hollow where lights shone among a clump of bare ash trees. A few low, white houses straggled along the roadside, and he thought one that was somewhat larger and had dormer windows was the change-house. When he knocked he was shown into an untidy kitchen where two men sat drinking by a peat fire. At first, the landlord seemed doubtful about being able to find room for him, but his manner changed when Foster carelessly mentioned that he understood from Pete that he would be welcome, and one of the others gave him a keen glance.

"Where met ye Pate?" he asked.

"On the hill," said Foster, who felt sure of his ground. "I helped him with the net."