The poacher suddenly stepped back to the very margin of the pond, a long oval piece of water, and not very deep, and quick as thought, Yorke drew his deadly weapon.

But at the same moment there was a sound of racing feet, and down the drive there came two men at headlong speed.

Yorke did not doubt that they were poachers; but his blood was up, and he was armed--he felt like an iron-clad against whom three wooden ships were about to pit themselves.

"Where I hit now I make a hole," he muttered, savagely, and stood firm; nor did he even put his lips to the whistle that hung round his neck.
[Illustration: "THE MAN TURNED AT ONCE, AND SPRANG AT HIM LIKE A TIGER."] But as the men came nearer, in the foremost he recognized Walter Grange, and at the same moment saw his late antagonist plunge wildly into the ice-cold pond, and begin to wade and swim across it.
"Cuss him! I durst not do it," gasped Walter, just too late, and mindful, even in his passionate disappointment, of rheumatic pains.
"Dash after him, Bob, while Mr.Yorke and I run round." But Bob had had the rheumatism too, or had seen the unpleasant effects of it in others, and shook his shaggy head.
A mocking laugh burst from the poacher, already nearing the opposite bank.
"Dang him! If I'd got a gun, I'd shoot him.

Run, man!" cried Walter, excitedly--"run, man, run! He can never get along in his wet clothes." And off the two men started in hot pursuit.
Yorke watched them toiling round the pond, while the poacher landed, shook himself like any water-dog, and leisurely trotted off.
"It was lucky for him," murmured he, as he replaced his weapon in his pocket, "that the help came on _my_ side;" then lit his pipe, and leisurely walked home.
Three hours later returned the keeper (for whose arrival he had been sitting up), with twinkling eye and a look of triumph.
"Well, you caught the beggar, did you, Grange ?" "Oh yes, we caught him fast enough," responded the other, grinning; "we caught the whole lot of them.