Both gentlemen saw mushrooms directly, through a medium of claret, and while the major was thinking of spores, mycelium, and rapid generation, Sir John and the captain saw mushrooms growing, mushrooms cooked, mushrooms in rich sauces, but always of a deep purply claret colour, that was pleasant to the eye. "Hang 'em, they'll drive me mad between 'em," thought Rolph. "I wonder how much of this sort of thing a man could stand. Offend the old buffers or no, I must go and have a cigar." "Yes, what is it?" said Sir John, starting out of a doze. "Morton would like to speak to you, Sir John." "Morton; what does he want?" said Sir John. "Send him in." A good deal of shoe wiping was heard outside, and a fine-looking, elderly man, whose velveteens proclaimed his profession, entered, to bow to all three gentlemen in turn. "Sorry to trouble you, Sir John, but I've got information that a party from out Woodstay way, sir, are coming netting and snaring to-night." "Confound their impudence!" cried Sir John, leaping from his chair. "What the deuce do you mean, standing staring there like a fool, man? Why don't you get the helpers and the watchers together, and go and stop the scoundrels?" "Men all waiting, Sir John," said the keeper, quietly, "but I thought you and the captain would like to be there, and the major could give us a bit of advice as to plans, Sir John." "Quite right, Morton. Of course. Quite right. Take a glass of wine. Here's a claret glass. You won't have claret though, I suppose." "Thank ye, kindly, Sir John, but you give me a glass of port last time." "And you haven't forgotten it, Morton? Quite right. It's a fine port. Help yourself, man. We'll change, and be with you directly. You'll come, Rolph?" "By George, yes," cried the captain, whose face had flushed with excitement. "I'm ready there." "You'll come, Jem?" "To be sure--to be sure," said the major, rubbing his hands. "We'll have a bit of tactics here." Ten minutes later, Sir John and the major, each carrying a heavy staff, and Rolph, armed with a gun, were following the keeper along one of the paths leading to the fir woods, and with a great mastiff dog close at the keeper's heels. "Beg pardon, sir," said the keeper, touching his hat, as they drew near to where a knot of men were gathered waiting for them, "but I wouldn't use that gun." "Oh, it's only loaded with Number 7, Morton," said the captain. "I sha'n't fire; but if I did, it would only pepper them." The man drew back, muttering to himself, "I saw a chap shot dead with Number 7, and they wasn't chilled shot, neither. I've done my duty, though." There were six men waiting, all armed with short staves, and looking a steady set of fellows as Sir John cast his eye over them, and now increased to ten by the coming of the little party from the Hall, they looked more than a match for any gang of poachers likely to be met, and he said so.