He looked through the gap and saw that the track went into the preserves.
On second thoughts he went back for the pheasant and took it to his master.
The farmer, who was sitting down to table, quietly ate his breakfast, and then strolled over to the keeper's cottage with the bird.

This was the first intimation: the keeper could hardly believe it, till he himself went down and followed the trail of foot-marks.

There was not the least difficulty in tracing the course of the poachers through the wood; the feathers were lying about; the scorched paper (for they used muzzle-loaders), broken boughs, and shot-marks were all too plain.

But by this time the gang were well away, and none were captured or identified.
The extreme severity of the frost naturally caused people to stay indoors, so that no one noticed the cart going through the village; nor could the track of its wheels be discerned from others on the snow of the highway beaten down firm.

Even had the poachers been disturbed, it is doubtful if so small a staff of keepers could have done anything to stop them.