At first,
these men were not solicitous for captures, but their negligence was
so often detected, that they began to believe that their master kept
telescopes that could penetrate through trees, and their vigilance
increased.
Bobus, in quest of green hellebore, got off with a warning; but a
week later, Robin and Jock were inspecting the heronry, when they
caught sight of a keeper, and dashed off to find themselves running
into the jaws of another. Swift as lightning, Jock sprung up into an
ivied ash; but the less ready Bob was caught by the leg as he
mounted, and pulled down again, while his captor shouted, "If there's
any more of you young varmint up yonder, you'd best come down before
I fires up into the hoivy."
He made a click and pointed his gun, and Robin shrieked, "Oh, don't!
We are Colonel Brownlow's sons; at least, I mean nephews. Don't! I
say. Skipjack, come down."
"You ass!" muttered Jack, as he crackled down, and was collared by
the keeper. "Hollo! what's that for?"
"Now, young gents, why will you come larking here to get a poor chap
out of his situation. It's as much as my place is worth not to
summons you, and yet I don't half like to do it to young gents like
you."
"What could they do to us?" asked Jock.
"Well, sir, may be they'd keep you in the lock-up all night; and what
would your papa and mamma say to that?"
"My father is Colonel Brownlow," growled Robin.
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