The Pothunters

at his ease. He whistled a popular melody of the day three times as slowly as its talented composer had originally intended it to be whistled, and in a strange minor key. Some peo

Offended dignity must draw the line somewhere. That is one of the curious results of a polite education. When two gentlemen of Hoxton or the Borough have a misunderstanding, they address one another with even more freedom than is their us

Barrett. He picked up his cap and left the ro

nder fourteen' broad jump, or doing occasional exercises in the gymnasium. It was a day for going far afield and not returning till lock-up. He had an object, too. Everything seemed to shout 'eggs' at him, to remind him that he was an enthusiast on the subject and had a collection to which he ought to seize this excellent opportunity of adding. The only question was, where to go. The surrounding country was a Paradise for the naturali

f to?' Grey, of Prater's House, i

can get some eggs

He was a keen

ll, thanks. Got an uncl

off befor

usly, 'there's a possible tip. Don't want to miss

at further argument would be thr

Hope you h

ks. I

el

don't see me anywhere about

decent, you might remember me. You kn

t, I

articularly. Where are

s woods. I'm after a water-wagtail mysel

ise you to look out, you know. Ven

he'll get me. One gets the knack of

thousands

lli

s, t

like dogs. Why are you s

to my certain knowledge, Morton-Smith and Ainsworth. That's only

cked. And Venner caught Morton-Smith himself simply stagg

to show you've not been poaching.

at you. Go away and meet your beastly uncle. Fa

t me when you're h

ou are.

afely removed. He could rely on Grey not to bungle

l spot in a country noted for its fine scenery. Dense woods were its chief feature. And by dense I mean well-supplied not only with trees (excellent things in themselves, but for the most part useless to the nest hunter), but also with a fascinating tangle of undergrowth, where every bush seemed to harbour eggs. All carefully preserved, too. That was the chief charm of the place. Since the sad episodes of Morton-Smith and Ainsworth, the School for the most part had looked askance at the Dingle. Once a select party from Dacre's House, headed by Babington, who always got himself into hot water when possible, had ventured into the forbidden land, and had retur

ose beside him. He went to inspect, and found a nest with seven eggs in it. Only a thrush, of course. As no one ever wants thrushes' eggs the world is over-stocked with them. Still, it gave promise of good things to come. Barrett pushed on through the bushes and t

he could see the silver gleam of the brook at the foot of the hill. The woods sloped down to the very edge. Then came the brook, wi

be necessary, for in April water is generally inclined to be chilly. Of keepers he had up till now seen no sign. Once

nstructed of sticks. It was a very jerry-built residence, evidently run up for the season by some prudent bird who knew by experience that no nest could last through the winter, and so had declined to waste his time in useless decorative work. But what bird was it? No doubt there are experts to whom a wood-pigeon's nest is something apart and distinct from the ne

e nest, high up in its fork. To the right was another shoot. He realized at once, with keen disappointment, that it would be useless to go further. The branches were obviously not strong enough to bear his weigh

disappointment became less keen. Few thing

e sound of its fall came up to him almost simultaneously. Evidently the hole was not deep. He placed his hands on the edge, and let himself gently down into the darkness. His feet touche

of nature. Evidently someone had been here before. He bent down to make certain. There was mo

ard. He groped about until his fingers closed on it. It was--what was it? He could hardly make out for the moment. Suddenly,

third, and this time he saw all round the little chamber. 'Great Scott,' he said, 'the place is a regular poultry shop.' All round the sides were hung pheasants and partridges in various stages of maturity. Here and there the fur of a rabbit or a hare showed up amongst the fe

ague suspicion that flashed upon him, his match burnt down and lay smouldering on the floor. His hand trembled with excitement as he started to light another. It broke

'The Sports pots! N

. From beneath him came the muffled whine of a dog. He listened, holding his breath. No, he was not mistak