Not a
word spoken: a breathless haste to load and blaze; a storm of shot and
smoke and slaughter.
CHAPTER VII
OBY AND HIS SYSTEM: THE MOUCHER'S CALENDAR
One dark night, as I was walking on a lonely road, I kicked against
something, and but just saved myself from a fall. It was an intoxicated
man lying at full length. As a rule, it is best to let such people
alone; but it occurred to me that the mail-cart was due; with two horses
harnessed tandem-fashion, and travelling at full speed, the mail would
probably go over him. So I seized the fellow by the collar and dragged
him out of the way. Then he sat up, and asked in a very threatening tone
who I was. I mentioned my name: he grunted, and fell back on the turf,
where I left him.
The incident passed out of my mind, when one afternoon a labourer
called, asking for me in a mysterious manner, and refusing to
communicate his business to any one else. When admitted, he produced a
couple of cock pheasants from under his coat, the tail feathers much
crumpled, but otherwise in fine condition. These he placed on the table,
remarking, 'I ain't forgot as you drawed I out of the raud thuck night.'
I made him understand that such presents were too embarrassing; but he
seemed anxious to do 'summat,' so I asked him to find me a few ferns and
rare plants.
This he did from time to time; and thus a species of acquaintanceship
grew up, and I learned all about him.
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