they fell in with three men, who seemed
to know Ben well; and soon after that they met three more. All went on
together. James found that they were going into the park of a gentleman
who very strictly preserved his game and had several gamekeepers.

"Even if they meet us, they won't dare to attack us; and if they do, we
can take very good care of ourselves," said Ben.

The party of poachers were in search of pheasants, of which there were a
great many in the park. They knocked over one after the other, till
each man was well loaded. James soon began to take a pleasure in the
sport, and killed as many as the rest.

They had begun to talk of going home, all well pleased with their
night's work, when, as they were within fifty yards of the place where
they were to leave the park, they found themselves face to face with
four keepers.

"Stand back, and let us pass!" cried Ben Page. "We don't want to say
anything to you, and you shall not say anything to us."

"That won't do, young man," said the principal keeper; "you must give up
all the game you have shot, and let us know your names."

"That we won't do. Push on, Ben Page," shouted one of the men.

The click as of guns being cocked was heard.

"If you fire, so do we; and we have three shots to your one," cried Ben.
"On, lads, on."

"I know you by your voice, Master Page," said one of the keepers. "I
see you too, now I am nearer to you."

"If you do, take that for your pains," exclaimed Ben, scarcely thinking,
in his rage, of what he was about. The report of a gun was heard. One
of the gamekeepers fell. The poachers dashed forward. Another keeper
was knocked over. The rest ran off to hide in the wood, thinking that
they would all be murdered; while the poachers, without stopping to see
what harm had been done to the fallen men, hurried out of the wood,
leaving them on the ground. Bad men are often cowards; and cowards are
careless of what others suffer.

The poachers talked very big, but their hearts sunk within them. The
most unhappy was James Grey. The others dreaded being found out and
punished. With him it was not the fear of being found out and punished,
so much as the thought that he had been with those who had caused the
death of a fellow-creature; for he made sure, from the groan the keeper
uttered when he fell, that he had been killed. His conscience, never
quite at rest, even when he went with Ben Page into his worst haunts,
was awake