However, he's for town, they say, to-day." "All right, Grange; we must do without him, then," returned the young man, cheerfully.

"What time am I to be on guard ?" "You should be there at ten at latest, Sir.

There'll be plenty of us within whistle-call, you understand.

But nobody will come aneist you as has any business there; so whoever you see you must go in at." Yorke nodded, smiling, and doubling his white fists, hit out scientifically with his right.
"You're one after the Squire's own heart," exclaimed the keeper, admiringly; "and I do wish you could foregather with him.

What a reach of arm you've got, and what a play of muscle! The fist is the weapon for a poacher--that is, I mean _agin_ him--if you only know how to use it.