In those days I kept Walnut very close at home. Except at dawn or just before dusk we never ventured far from cover, with the result that neither was ever shot at. It was uncommonly lucky for us that this was the time of most plentiful food, for otherwise, being afraid to roam far in search of provender, we must often have gone hungry. But though, as I have already mentioned, the early drought had caused a famine in nuts, acorns, and mast, yet there was plenty else to eat. It was as wet now as it had been dry in the earlier part of the year, and the steamy heat had produced amazing crops of mushrooms and other fungi. The hedgerows, too, which before the rain had looked thin and brown, were now full of rank, new growth, while as for insects of all kinds, they fairly swarmed. On the pheasant food, too, we levied regular toll. In any case, the fool of a keeper threw down twice as much as the birds cared to eat. In those days our enemy was busy with other weapons beside the gun. Men were constantly at work lopping the underbrush to keep the rides open, while much spading went on to clear the water-logged ditches. September was three parts gone, and the pheasants were nearly full grown, but as yet so tame that they had almost to be kicked before they would use their wings. They were still fed in the small glade close below the oak, when Walnut and I, peeping out cautiously from the end of the hollow branch, would watch our enemy with the ginger whiskers strewing the wheat, and then, as soon as he was safely out of the gate, make a wild rush down and eat our fill. Pheasants are quite the most utter fools of any birds that I know. With their great weight and strong beaks we could have done nothing to resist had they chosen to attack us when we raided their larder. But this never seemed to occur to them. You have only to look very fierce and rush at him for the largest cock-pheasant to run for dear life. More often than before, the new master of the Hall began to accompany his keeper and watch the feeding process. Great hazel-sticks! the man was as fussy as a hen with ducklings. However, there’s many a slip ’twixt the nut and the teeth, and our pompous friend was not destined to have things all his own way after all. CHAPTER X POACHERS AND A BATTUE One still night about ten days before the end of September, Walnut and I were roused by a light which, flashing across the opening to our retreat, was reflected into our eyes. It passed immediately, but not before we were both broad awake. Several men were trampling about close underneath the oak.