“Veil, yer see, Mr. Arundel,” returned Millar, in whose estimation Lewis had risen fifty per cent, since his clever shot at the snipe, “yer see, it ain’t ther fust time as this chap Hardy has give us a good deal o’ trouble: we catched him a poarchin’ about three year ago, and he wor in ---------- gaol for six months at a stretch. Veil, ven he cum out, he tuk to bad courses altogether--jined ther chartists, them chaps as preaches equalerty, ’cos, being at the wery bottom of ther ladder therselves, equalerty would pull them hup and their betters down; vunce let ’em get to ther middle round, and they’d soon give up equalerty--hit would be the ‘haristogracy of talent,’ or ther ‘shu-premacy of physic-all force’ (vich means, adwisability of pitching into somebody else) vith ’em then. I hates such cant as I hates varmint, so I do.” Having delivered himself of this opinion with much emphasis, the keeper proceeded to relieve his mind by flogging an inoffensive dog for an imaginary offence ere he continued-- “Veil, arter he jined the chartists he vent to Lunnun as a Delicate, as they calls ’em; and has they found him in wittles and drink, lodgin’ and hother parquisites, in course he worn’t in no hurry to cum back; howsomdever, I suppose at last they diskivered what I could a told ’em at furst--that he wasn’t worth his keep; and so they packed him off home agen. I ’spected vhen I heard he vas arrived vot he’d be hup to. He calls hisself a blacksmith, but he drives more shots into ’ares and pheasands than nails into ’orses’ ’oofs, _you_ may depend.” “And how do you propose to put a stop to his depredations?” inquired Lewis. “Vy, I should like to catch him in the wery act--nab him vith the game upon him,” returned the keeper meditatively; “then ve could get him another six months. But he’s precious sly, and uncommon swift of foot too, though he ain’t fur hoff my age, vich shall never see five-and-forty no more.” “I wish, Millar,” said Lewis, after a moment’s consideration, “I wish that whenever you receive information which you think likely to lead to this man’s capture, you’d send me word; there’s nothing I should like better than to lend you a hand in taking him. I might be useful to you, for I am considered a fast runner.” “And suppose it comes to blows? Them poarching chaps is rough customers to handle sometimes,” rejoined Millar, with a cunning twinkle in his eye, as if he expected this information would alter his companion’s intentions. “So much the more exciting,” returned Lewis eagerly; “an affray with poachers would be a real treat after such a life of inaction as I’ve been leading lately.”