All these implements Little John has prepared by the dim light of a horn lantern in the shed at the back of his cottage.

A mug of ale while we get our guns greatly cheers him, and unlooses his tongue.
All the way to Redcote he impresses on us the absolute necessity of silence while ferreting, and congratulates us on having a nearly still day.

He is a little doubtful about Orion's spaniel and whether it will keep quiet or not.
When we reach the double-mound, his talk entirely ceases: he is as silent and as rugged as a pollard oak.

By the top of the mound the sack of nets is thrown down on the sward and opened.

As there are more holes on the other side of the hedge Orion goes over with Little John, and I proceed to set up the nets on mine.
I found some difficulty in getting at the bank, the bushes being so thick, and had to use the billhook and chop a way in: I heard Little John growling about this in a whisper to Orion.