“You get off ’ome,” ses Policeman White, staring at ’im.

“But ain’t I goin’ to be locked up?” ses Bob. “’Ave I been brought all this way just to ’ave a little chat with a policeman I don’t like.”

“You go ’ome,” ses Policeman White, handing the partridges back to ’im.

“All right,” ses Bob, “and I may ’ave to call you to witness that these ‘ere two men laid hold o’ me and tried to steal my partridges.  I shall go up and see my loryer about it.”

He walked off ’ome with his ’ead up as high as ’e could hold it, and the airs ’e used to give ’imself arter this was terrible for to behold.  He got ’is eldest boy to write a long letter to the squire about it, saying that ’e’d overlook it this time, but ’e couldn’t promise for the future.  Wot with Bob Pretty on one side and Squire Rockett on the other, them two keepers’ lives was ’ardly worth living.

Then the squire got a head-keeper named Cutts, a man as was said to know more about the ways of poachers than they did themselves.  He was said to ’ave cleared out all the poachers for miles round the place ’e came from, and pheasants could walk into people’s cottages and not be touched.

He was a sharp-looking man, tall and thin, with screwed-up eyes and a little red beard.  The second day ’e came ’e was up here at this ’ere Cauliflower, having a pint o’ beer and looking round at the chaps as he talked to the landlord.  The odd thing was that men who’d never taken a hare or a pheasant in their lives could ’ardly meet ’is eye, while Bob Pretty stared at ’im as if ’e was a wax-works.

“I ’ear you ’ad a little poaching in these parts afore I came,” ses Mr. Cutts to the landlord.

“I think I ’ave ‘eard something o’ the kind,” ses the landlord, staring over his ’ead with a far-away look in ’is eyes.

“You won’t hear of much more,” ses the keeper.  “I’ve invented a new way of catching the dirty rascals; afore I came ’ere I caught all the poachers on three estates.  I clear ’em out just like a ferret clears out rats.”

“Sort o’ man-trap?” ses the landlord.

“Ah, that’s tellings,” ses Mr. Cutts.

“Well, I ’ope you’ll catch ’em here,” ses Bob Pretty; “there’s far too many of ’em about for my liking.  Far too many.”

“I shall ’ave ’em afore long,” ses Mr. Cutts, nodding his ’ead.

[Illustration:  “I shall ’ave ’em afore long,’ ses Mr. Cutts.”]

“Your good ’ealth,” ses Bob Pretty, holding up ’is mug.  “We’ve been wanting a man like you for a long time.”

“I don’t want any of your impidence, my man,” ses the keeper.  “I’ve ’eard about you, and nothing good either.  You be careful.”

“I am careful,” ses Bob, winking at the others.  “I ’ope you’ll catch all them low poaching chaps; they give the place a bad name, and I’m a’most afraid to go out arter dark for fear of meeting ’em.”

Peter Gubbins and Sam Jones began to laugh, but Bob Pretty got angry with ’em and said he didn’t see there was anything to laugh at.  He said that poaching was a disgrace to their native place, and instead o’ laughing they ought to be thankful to Mr. Cutts for coming to do away with it all.