And for a time Bob Pretty seemed to ’ave all the luck on ’is side. Keeper Lewis got rheumatic fever, which ’e put down to sitting about night arter night in damp places watching for Bob, and, while ’e was in the thick of it, with the doctor going every day, Mr. Cutts fell in getting over a fence and broke ’is leg. Then all the work fell on Keeper Smith, and to ’ear ’im talk you’d think that rheumatic fever and broken legs was better than anything else in the world. He asked the squire for ’elp, but the squire wouldn’t give it to ’im, and he kept telling ’im wot a feather in ’is cap it would be if ’e did wot the other two couldn’t do, and caught Bob Pretty. It was all very well, but, as Smith said, wot ’e wanted was feathers in ’is piller, instead of ’aving to snatch a bit o’ sleep in ’is chair or sitting down with his ’ead agin a tree. When I tell you that ’e fell asleep in this public-’ouse one night while the landlord was drawing a pint o’ beer he ’ad ordered, you’ll know wot ’e suffered. O’ course, all this suited Bob Pretty as well as could be, and ’e was that good-tempered ’e’d got a nice word for everybody, and when Bill Chambers told ’im ’e was foolhardy ’e only laughed and said ’e knew wot ’e was about. But the very next night ’e had reason to remember Bill Chambers’s words. He was walking along Farmer Hall’s field—the one next to the squire’s plantation—and, so far from being nervous, ’e was actually a-whistling. He’d got a sack over ’is shoulder, loaded as full as it could be, and ’e ’ad just stopped to light ’is pipe when three men burst out o’ the plantation and ran toward ’im as ’ard as they could run. [Illustration] Bob Pretty just gave one look and then ’e dropped ’is pipe and set off like a hare. It was no good dropping the sack, because Smith, the keeper, ’ad recognised ’im and called ’im by name, so ’e just put ’is teeth together and did the best he could, and there’s no doubt that if it ’adn’t ha’ been for the sack ’e could ’ave got clear away. As it was, ’e ran for pretty near a mile, and they could ’ear ’im breathing like a pair o’ bellows; but at last ’e saw that the game was up. He just managed to struggle as far as Farmer Pinnock’s pond, and then, waving the sack round his ’ead, ’e flung it into the middle of it, and fell down gasping for breath. “Got—you—this time—Bob Pretty,” ses one o’ the men, as they came up. “Wot—_Mr. Cutts?_” ses Bob, with a start. “That’s me, my man,” ses the keeper. “Why—I thought—you was. Is that _Mr. Lewis?_ It can’t be.” “That’s me,” ses Keeper Lewis. “We both got well sudden-like, Bob Pretty, when we ’eard you was out. You ain’t so sharp as you thought you was.” Bob Pretty sat still, getting ’is breath back and doing a bit o’ thinking at the same time. “You give me a start,” he ses, at last. “I thought you was both in bed, and, knowing ’ow hard worked Mr. Smith ’as been, I just came round to ’elp ’im keep watch like. I promised to ’elp you, Mr. Cutts, if you remember.”