"Done," roared my uncle; "why run down to the Spinney, or there won't be a pheasant left. Here, my stick--my pistols--Here, Dick--Confound-- Scoundrels. Look sharp." And then he hobbled out of the room after the keeper, when warm with the excitement of perhaps having a brush with the poachers, I was following, but a voice detained me on the threshold. "Richard," whispered Jenny; and there was something in the earnest eyes and frightened look that drew me back in an instant. "Richard, you won't go--those men--danger--Oh! Richard, pray! There, don't. What would your uncle say?" I didn't know, neither did I pause to think, for that newly-awakened earnestness whispered such sweet hopes that, darting back, I was for the instant forgetful of all propriety, till some one stood blushing before me, arranging those bright little curls so lately resting upon my arm. "But you won't go?" pleaded Jenny. "For _my_ sake Richard?" "Di-i-i-i-i-ck," roared my uncle, and, wresting myself from the silken chains, I darted down into the hall. "Here lay hold of that stick, my lad," cried my uncle, flourishing a large bludgeon, while Browsem grinning and showing his teeth, was quietly twisting the leathern thong of a short stout staff round his wrist. "All right my darling," said the old man, turning to the pale-faced Jenny, who had come quietly downstairs to where we stood. "Don't be alarmed, we shall take care of one another, and march half a dozen poaching--here, come along, or me shall miss the scoundrels." Browsem led the way at a half-trot, and grasping my arm, the old gentleman followed as fast as his sometimes gouty leg would allow him. We were soon out of the grounds, and, clambering a gate, made our way towards the wood, where the keeper had heard the gun. "Confound them," growled my uncle, "that's where that poor fellow was shot ten years ago." "Bang--bang." "There they are, sir," growled the keeper, halting to let us get up alongside; and now I started, for in the dusk behind me, and apparently dodging my heels, was a tall figure. "It's only Todds, sir," growled the keeper, and Todds his helper growled in response. "That is right." "Amost wonder as they came here, sir," whispered Browsem. "Never knowed 'em do it afore, 'cause they're feared o' Munday's Ghost." "Munday's Ghost?" I said. "Yes, sir; pore chap as were shot. They do say as he walks still, but there's a sight o' pheasants here." It was one of those dark heavy nights late in winter, when the last oak-leaves have fallen, and every step you take through the thickly strewn glades rustles loudly. The wind just sighed by us as we pressed on along a path through a plantation, and then once or twice I fancied I heard guns to the right, far off behind the house. But I forgot them the next moment, for my heart beat, and the excitement increased, for just on in front came two loud and distinct reports.