I mentioned my name: he grunted, and fell back on the turf, where I left him.
The incident passed out of my mind, when one afternoon a labourer called, asking for me in a mysterious manner, and refusing to communicate his business to any one else.

When admitted, he produced a couple of cock pheasants from under his coat, the tail feathers much crumpled, but otherwise in fine condition.

These he placed on the table, remarking, 'I ain't forgot as you drawed I out of the raud thuck night.' I made him understand that such presents were too embarrassing; but he seemed anxious to do 'summat,' so I asked him to find me a few ferns and rare plants.
This he did from time to time; and thus a species of acquaintanceship grew up, and I learned all about him.

He was always called 'Oby' (_i.e._ Obadiah), and was the most determined poacher of a neighbouring district--a notorious fighting man--hardened against shame, an Ishmaelite openly contemning authority and yet not insensible to kindness.

I give his history in his own language--softening only the pronunciation, that would otherwise be unintelligible.
'I lives with my granny in Thorney-lane: it be outside the village.