'I'll have the law on yer for assault an' battery, yer damned miscalculatin' brute!' says I to him--'why don't yer get that boy there to teach yer your business ?' An' off I walked.

Don't you be afeared--'ee'll never lay hands on me!" But Minta was sore afraid, and went on talking and lamenting while she made the tea.

He took little heed of her.

He sat by the fire quivering and thinking.

In a public-house two nights before this one, overtures had been made to him on behalf of a well-known gang of poachers with head-quarters in a neighbouring county town, who had their eyes on the pheasant preserves in Westall's particular beat--the Tudley End beat--and wanted a local watcher and accomplice.