“Ah, policeman, I was just going to send after you; my head keeper has been shot by these poaching rascals, and is seriously hurt, I’m afraid!” exclaimed Coverdale. “How are we to make sure of the fellows who did it? It lies between a man called Jack Hargrave--” “A reg’lur bad un,” observed the horse-patrol, parenthetically. “You said you knew the other man,” continued Harry, appealing to the under-keeper; “are you acquainted with his name?” “They do call him ‘Winkey’ in a general way, from a trick he’s got with his eyelids; but his right name be Jim Fags,” was the reply. “I know him,” observed the policeman. “Well, sir, as we’re acquainted with the parties, I should say we’re safe to be down upon ’em somewheres to-morrow. I’ll ride over to H--------, and put all our men on the scent.” “Stay! that gives me an idea,” said Coverdale; then turning to the under-keeper, he continued in a lower voice--“You are sure you hit Hargrave--are you, Giles?” The young man nodded in the affirmative, and his master resumed,-- “Go and fetch Nero, poor Markum’s night-dog, muzzle him, and bring him in one of the greyhound leashes. We’ll contrive to take these rascals before day dawns, policeman.” While Coverdale was explaining his plan to the patrol, Giles returned with the dog: it was a splendid animal, a cross between the English mastiff and a Spanish bloodhound. Its size was unusual, and its strength enormous. Its eyes glared red in the torchlight, like those of some wild beast. When it saw the policeman it uttered a low growl, and the bristles on its back stood up like a mane; but at a word from Coverdale it relinquished its hostile attitude, and with a sagacious look, which said almost as plainly as words could have expressed it--“I comprehend; it’s not him they’ve sent for me to worry”--thrust its huge head caressingly into its master’s hand. “Now patrol,” resumed Coverdale, “if you will ride along the skirts of the wood, and lead my horse, I fancy I shall be able to put the dog on the track of these fellows--and, if so, he will never leave it till the game is run down. You have handcuffs with you?” “Aye, and pistols too, for the matter of that,” was the reply. “I don’t expect they will be required,” rejoined Coverdale; “the scoundrels will scarcely want more fighting than they’ve had already;” then signalling Giles to follow with the dog he turned, and, re-entering the plantation, soon reached the scene of the late conflict. “Now try and find, an nearly as possible, the spot where Hargrave was when you fired at him,” began Coverdale; “give me the dog to hold, and take the lantern with you.” Giles obeyed; and having walked about fifty paces down a narrow pathway through the wood, began carefully to examine the ground on either side. Having pursued his investigation for some minutes in silence, he paused, examined the spot still more closely, and then made a sign to Coverdale to join him.