"He'll be back again mos' like.

It's 'is dodge." And sure enough in twenty minutes or so the men reappeared.

They retraced their steps from the further corner of the field, where some preserves of Lord Maxwell's approached very closely to the big Mellor wood, and came back again along the diagonal path within fifty yards or so of the men in the ditch.
In the stillness the poachers could hear Westall's harsh and peremptory voice giving some orders to his underling, or calling to the dogs, who had scattered a little in the stubble.

Hurd's own dog quivered beside him once or twice.
Then steps and voices faded into the distance and all was safe.
The poachers crept out grinning, and watched the keepers' progress along the hill-face, till they disappeared into the Maxwell woods.
"_Ee_ be sold again--blast 'im!" said Hurd, with a note of quite disproportionate exultation in his queer, cracked voice.

"Now I'll set them snares.