er, and I was
certain that it was in Sir Hawkhurst's best preserve, where I had seen
Bob Hopley feeding the beautiful birds only a week before, and Mercer
had come away with me feeling miserable because he could not have one to
stuff.

There was another report, and I grew more and more excited.

"Tom," I whispered, "let's go down and slip out of the schoolroom
window."

"And go and see. But suppose we're caught?"

"We shan't be," I whispered; "let's go. I can't bear to stand still
here and listen to those birds being shot. Sir Hawkhurst is so proud of
them."

"I should like to go."

"Come on, then. Bob Hopley must be asleep."

"One moment," said Tom, hesitating. "Let's ask the Doctor to let us
go."

"He wouldn't," I cried impatiently.

"No, he wouldn't," said Tom. "Come on."

We opened our door softly, stole down, and reached the schoolroom
unseen, after listening at the masters' sitting-room door, and hearing
them chatting together. One of the windows was open to ventilate the
place after its crowded state all the evening, for, in that
out-of-the-way part of the country, there was no fear felt of
housebreakers, and, stepping up on the desk, I thrust out my legs, and
dropped lightly into the playground, to be followed by Mercer, who was
breathing hard with excitement. Then, making for the grounds in front,
we saw a light shining out before us on to the closely-cut lawn.

The Doctor's window was open, and, as we crept by, sheltered by the
shrubs, there was another report, and the Doctor came and looked out.

"I'm afraid it's poachers, my dears," he said. "Well, I'm not a
gamekeeper."

We hurried along the lawn, leaving him looking out, ran lightly along
the grassy marge of the carriage drive, and passed through the swing
gate, but stopped short.

"Caught," I said to myself, as a tall, dark figure stepped out before
us.

"Hallo! where are you young gents going?"

"Oh, Lom, don't tell," I panted. "There are poachers down in Long
Spinney."

"I know," he said; "I heard 'em."

"And we're going down to tell Bob Hopley."

"On the sly?"

"Yes; the Doctor don't know. You won't get us into a scrape?"

"Well, you know, I ought to; but--"

"You won't, Lom?"

"Well, not this time. I was just going to bed when I heard them, and
thought I'd run down and ask Bob Hopley if he wanted any help. Look
here!"

He held up a big oaken stick, and, thoroughly in accord, we all started
off at a trot