‘There’s another atop o’ oak—tree. Tige’s watchin’ un.’ ‘Get un down!’ was the father’s order. ‘You’ll ’ave to come an’ ’elp me,’ said the boy. ‘’Tis too ’igh for me to climb.’ ‘Mother, you skin this un,’ called the elder man. A sallow-faced woman took Crab’s body from him, and then he and his son came up out of the pit towards the oak. [Illustration: THE DOG BOUNDED HIGH, BUT I WAS SAFELY OUT OF HIS REACH.] I gave myself up for lost. Remember, the tree was a pollard, and, having been lopped not more than four or five years before, its branches were thin and straight. They provided no cover at all. The crown from which they sprung was not more than twenty feet above the ground. Once my enemies climbed it, there was no escape; for if I ran out to the end of a branch and dropped I should undoubtedly fall into the yawning jaws of Tige the dog. But the instinct of self-preservation is strong. Casting round me desperately, I saw a small crevice in the knotted trunk-top. At first it seemed far too small to hold me, but somehow or other I forced myself through, though I scored my sides as I did so. My claws met no foothold, I made a grasp at thin air, and fell flop half a dozen feet, landing upon a bed of soft, rotten wood. When my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, I saw that the trunk was completely hollow for a man’s height from the top. It was not quite dark, for the daylight leaked through various small crevices, but there was no hole large enough for a man to put his hand through. The scraping of boots on the rough outside bark jarred the whole hollow trunk. Presently I heard a voice from below: ‘Where be ’e, Zeke?’ ‘Can’t see un, vather!’ cried the boy, who was by the sound on the crown of the oak. ‘That vool Tige’s let ’im go.’ ‘I’ll lay ’e ain’t,’ piped the boy. ‘Where be ’e, then?’ Silence and more groping up above. I began to hope that the hole through which I had passed might escape the sharp eyes of the boy. No such luck. ‘’E’s down inside, vather. ’Ere be th’ ’ole.’ ‘Put thy ’and down an’ pull un out.’ The light was cut off from above. ‘Her’s all ’ollow inside,’ cried the boy. ‘I can’t reach un.’ ‘Cut a stick an’ put un through.’ A pause, and presently a long bough came poking down, which I easily avoided. But—worse luck!—the boy’s quick ears heard me moving. ‘He’s here, vather. I heard un. Tell ee what. Us’ll smoke un out.’ Memory flashed back to the poachers and the suffocated pheasants. Now, indeed, I was lost. In helpless terror I heard them piling leaves and twigs below the tree, and then the click of a striking match. Blue fumes began to eddy through a knot-hole, but the bed of rotten wood below me was so thick and damp that they passed over my head and I was still able to breathe. I heard the man swearing, and then he called to his boy: ‘Zeke, fetch t’ chopper. Us ’ll have to cut un out.’