The poacher was not the sort of fellow to offer the same objections over again, nor to be upset by the novelty of the suggestion. The two being circumstanced as they were, and intuitively trusting each other, no proposal could have been more natural. So far from hemming and hawing, therefore, the man merely enumerated such further disadvantages as a gentleman must encounter in sharing his abode and larder, and, these being made light of, gave his assent. The question immediately arose as to how Everell should transfer his residence from the ale-house to the poacher’s cottage without leaving a trace. It was important that he should depart from the ale-house in regular fashion, lest it be supposed that he had met with foul play, and a search be made. Moreover, he must have his belongings—for the cloak-bag contained his clean linen, stockings, razor, and other necessaries of decent living: though he desired to be visible to but one person while in the neighbourhood, he desired that to her he should appear at no disadvantage. After some discussion, a course was planned, which Everell and his intended host—who gave his name as John Tarby—immediately set out upon. John Tarby led the way through that part of the wood which Everell had lately traversed. They came, at length, to the verge of the glen; but, instead of keeping to the edge, the guide descended the bracken-covered side into the deeper gloom of the thickly timbered bottom. Here, indeed, Everell found what was to him complete darkness, and he had to clutch his companion’s coat-skirt for guidance. John Tarby, however, proceeded without hesitation or doubt, deviating this way or that to avoid tree or thicket, the music of the stream rising or falling as the two men moved more or less close to its border. At last they emerged from the glen’s mouth, at the foot of the steep incline that rose to the old sunken garden of Foxwell Court. Here John Tarby concealed his gun by laying it across the boughs of a young oak. Where the glen and the timber ceased, the walkers were encountered by the high palings which served to enclose the park on that side except where wooden bars spanned the stream. By using the bars as a bridge, Everell and his guide crossed the stream. Tarby led the way a few rods farther, stopped, and carefully removed a loose paling or two. They squeezed themselves through the opening, and stood in the field. Tarby replaced the palings in their former apparently secure position, and then the two rapidly skirted the field, keeping close to the fence so as to profit by the dark background it afforded their bodies. Turning at the angle of the field, and skulking along a rough stone wall, they finally reached the village end, meeting their former companion, the stream, just in time for a momentary greeting ere it passed under the bridge. Leaving the poacher to lie unseen in the shadowed corner of the field, Everell clambered over a