After a strict injunction from Millar to preserve silence, the party in search of Hardy and his associates again moved forward, Lord Belle-field, Millar, and Lewis in front, and the others following two abreast. As soon as they had entered the wood the remaining men joined them, making altogether a company of eleven. As they advanced farther into the plantation, the boughs of the trees, becoming thicker and more closely interlaced, intercepted the moonlight and rendered their onward progress a matter of some difficulty. The gamekeepers however, knew every intricacy of the path, and could have found his way in the darkest night as easily as at noonday. After winding among the trees for some minutes they came upon a little glade where the underwood had been partially cleared away and a small quantity of barley stacked for the purpose of feeding the pheasants. At the entrance to the space thus cleared the party halted, and Millar, creeping forward on his hands and knees, reached the stack. Sheltering himself behind it, he made his way to the opposite side, where he was lost to sight; reappearing almost immediately, he cautiously rejoined the others, saying in a low whisper: “I expected how it would be; there is from twenty or thirty pheasands roosting on the trees beyond the stack there, and Hardy and his mates being aware on it, is a-making of their way through the bushes right ahead. I could hear ’em plain enough when I was at the stack yonder. Now, two on yer must come along o’ me, creep to the stack and hide behind it as yer see me do, then vait till them blackguards has let fly at the pheasands, and afore they can load again ve three must jump forrard and try and captiwate Hardy. In the meantime, you others must make yer way round through the bushes and take ’em in the rear, and help us if we wants helping.” “Which you will do most certainly,” returned Lord Bellefield. “I’ll lead the party that remains.” “And I’ll go with you, Millar,” observed Lewis. “And you, Sam,” continued Millar, addressing the under-keeper before alluded to. The man came forward, and placing himself by Lewis’s side, the three crept along till they had reached the stack, sheltered by which they again stood upright. Scarcely had they taken their places when two guns, followed by four others, were discharged in rapid succession, and so close to them, that the shot pattering amongst the underwood was distinctly audible, and one of the wounded pheasants dropped at Lewis’s feet; while almost immediately afterwards a couple of men ran forward to collect the fallen game. The foremost of these was a fellow of Herculean proportions: as he stooped to pick up a pheasant a ray of moonlight revealed his features, and Lewis immediately recognised his former antagonist, the tall Chartist. At the same moment Millar whispered, “That’s our man; go ahead!” [Illustration: 0224]