We were now in the thickest part of the wood; and, after going a little farther, I felt my shoulder clutched, and "Here they come," was whispered in my ear. "Seize one man, Dick, and hold on to him like a bull-dog." Just then I could hear in front the sharp crackling and rustling made by bodies being forced through the underwood; and, grasping my staff and pressing eagerly forward, I waited with beating heart for the coming of the enemy. I did not have to wait long, for the next moment I was face to face with Browsem. "Lord, sir! I thought it had been one on 'em," he exclaimed, and then a whispered consultation having been held, we opened out about twenty yards apart, and went straight away in the direction we supposed the poachers to have taken. On, slowly and painfully, with the twigs flying back and lashing our faces, roots trying to trip us up, and the night growing darker and darker. Right and left I could hear my uncle and Browsem, while right off beyond the old gentleman, Mr Todds, the reticent, was making his way. Every eye was strained and every ear attent to catch the slightest sound; but for quite ten minutes we crept on until right in our rear came the sharp, loud report of a gun; and then, after the interval of a few moments, another louder and apparently nearer. "Back again!" cried my uncle; and then, casting off all caution, we all pushed forward eagerly, closing in as we went, till we were only separated by a few bushes, so that I could hear the hard breathing on either side. Hard work blundering and stumbling along; but the will was good, and at last we all drew up again in a small opening, panting, hot, and regularly breathed. "Hist!" whispered my uncle, and we all listened eagerly; but, with the exception of a wild, strange cry some distance off, all was silent. "What's that?" I whispered to Browsem. "Only a howl, sir," he whispered again. "Blessed rum start this, ain't it?" "Bang, bang!" again a hundred yards off. "Come on!" roared my uncle furiously, "there won't be a bird left in the place;" and away we dashed again, but only to pull up once more, regularly puzzled. "'Tain't no good, sir," whispered Browsem. "We might go on like this all night, and ketch no one." "Why?" I said, mopping my brow. "That 'ere, sir, as I said was a howl, must ha' been Munday's Ghost, and them 'ere shots as we keeps hearing's the ones as killed the poor fellow, and that's why the poachers never comes to this bit." "Browsem," puffed my uncle. "Yes, sir," said Browsem. "You're a fool, Browsem," puffed my uncle. "Thanky, sir," said Browsem. "What do you mean by that, sir?" cried my uncle, fiercely. "Nothing, sir," said the keeper, mildly. "For two pins, sir," cried my uncle, fiercely, "I'd discharge you, sir. D'yer hear? discharge you, sir, for talking such foolery. Ghosts-- posts! pooh! bah! puff! stuff! yah! Forward."