"I know what I say, Farmer Dobson," cried Dick aloud, thumping one hand upon the table, and pouring the ale on the outside of the horn, instead of into it, with the other, "I know what I say,—and I say _scratching_!" "Speak in the house, Dick!" retorted the farmer, colouring, "thou wilt not talk better sense for shouting. I tell thee that that bull's only a fool of a bull that will stand scratching! Wilt thou make me believe, think'st thou, that any body would be such a goose, for instance, as to try to scratch my old white bull in the second home close? Thou won't venture to scratch him, I'm pretty sartain, Dick, with all thy brag and bluster to boot!" "Won't I?" cried Dick, fiercely; "why, what do ye fancy is to hinder me, eh! old clod-pate?" "Dick, Dick!" said the farmer, cooling himself with the remembrance that the poacher was a much younger and inexperienced man than himself, and tapping the wild youth admonishingly on the shoulder, "it is far wiser for a man to go steadily about getting his bread, than either to scratch bulls, or to snickle hares, depend on't. I don't say but that you have as much right to practise one as t'other, if you feel inclined; only, you are almost sure to repent it in the end, in either case: you understand me, Dick?" "'Od dang it!" hiccupped Dick, setting his ragged hat on one side, and looking at the farmer as if he intended him to understand he was no ordinary hero, "do ye think, Kiah Dobson, that I fear aught that may happen? I say I _will scratch_ your bull; ay, and I'll tame him, too, as I've tamed you?" "Better not," replied the farmer drily; "better go quietly home, Dick, and try to earn thy living honestly, like thy father and thy brother Ned." "To Jericho with 'em both!" roared Raven Dick, bouncing up from his seat: "they're fools both of 'em! I don't intend to slave for ever, and never have any fun, like them. No, no! I'll have a hare when I like; ay, and I'll scratch a bull when I like, too!—so here goes!" and out sallied the intoxicated poacher, snatching up the dead hares as he went, and placing them under his arm as before. Farmer Dobson and the dame followed, for their curiosity was, naturally, too highly excited to permit their remaining behind. Just as Dick vaulted over the first hedge, for he was in too heroic a vein to think of taking the stile, though it was close by, Dick met one who was no stranger to him. It was the squire's gamekeeper. The moon shone brightly, and the gamekeeper looked hard at Dick, and still harder at the hares under his arm. But although the gamekeeper had his gun with him as usual, he most likely felt unwilling to encounter one so strong, and withal so reckless as he knew Raven Dick to be, for he did not speak to him. Dick spoke to the gamekeeper, notwithstanding.