his lips ready for John Ragg as he kicked the trap into the ditch; then he just gave the hare one hurried twist of the neck, and the next moment his deep inside pocket hung full and very warm.

But it wasn't John Ragg. The newcomer strode swiftly and tall, and Nibby suddenly felt himself unpleasantly visible. He glanced up at the black wood and shook his head: he looked away over the field, but the moon smiled in his face derisively; he hitched his ample jacket and cursed himself for not having hidden the hare at the very first sign. It was too late, and since naught else availed he stood hulked in the middle of the lane, his round, close-capped head sunk, and his hands thrust in his trouser pockets spreading his jacket skirts. An inspiration lightened his working mother wit and appealed to his ingrained waggishness-the enemy must have heard.

"'Aven't you found 'er, sir?" he asked anxiously, as the constable came up (Nibby could be very civil to authority). “A little gal, so I judged; she 'ad most likely lost 'er way 'ome an' was cryin'. No doubt you 'eard?"

"I've heard about you," said the constable.

"I thought it was you a-comin' an' I stopped," said Nibby cheerfully. "I said to myself, that's that fine young new sergeant of our'n as my missus allus looks after when 'e passes. She says you're the 'ansomest man; an' I should know your walk anywhere, for I've bin in the militia. I 'appened to be passin' the top o' the lane an' 'eard the little child, an' the poor thing's voice was 'eart breakin'. Shall I 'elp you to look for 'er? 'Adn't we better go one one way an' one another?"

"I think you'd better stay with me," said the buttoned officer expressively. "It is lonely," said Nibby, dropping back slightly, wary of sudden seizure. He was squeezing his pocket with his elbow, for to his horror the hare had

squirmed; his hasty hand had been unsure. He had had the same thing happen before, but never quite so inconveniently. "I'm nervous myself," he said, "not bein' used; an' if it should be anything else-anything uncanny?— there's queer tales about this lane. You go fust, an' then you'll 'ave the honor."

The young constable looked a moment away. Suddenly there was a faint "weke" near by-very near. "What's that?" he asked, turning sharply.

It was cold, but Nibby felt himself sweating. "Jist in front of you," he answered, panting and keeping his elbow close. He dared not loose, and he wondered if he dared squeeze. He held himself bunched-of all half lights the glimmer of a low moon is perhaps the most puzzling. "I'll go forrard," he said, "if you feel you'd like me to. The poor child's quiet now, though-maybe it belongs to one o' them cottages t'other side o' the wood, an' it's found its way."

"What do you take me for?" asked the policeman.

"You know best, of course," said Nibby smoothly. "I don't pretend to understand these night things." He bent and coughed strugglingly. "Dear me!" he gasped, doubling himself, "it's the stuff I took for my colic. If you should 'ear me squeak inside, don't mind. When I'm real bad I sometimes drop an' roll while it's on me." He had smuggled one hand into the outside adjoining pocket and was cautiously feeling for the neck; keeping the other shoulder to the moon. "An' 'earin' that poor little thing's grievin' voice made me bustle. The little aingel!" he ejaculated with a vicious pinch. There was a rasping gurgle about his midriff and he spluttered much. "I mustn't strain myself," he said, tapping his chest and shaking his head sadly.

"Take my arm," said the constable, coming closer.

"No, quickly.

no," said Nibby receding "Thank you kindly." "Pleased to help you," said the constable.

"Don't press me," said Nibby, wondering if he were being played with, and what chance he should stand in a race if he jumped for the start. "'Adn't we better be lookin' for that poor dear little lost crittur?"

"A child with four legs," scoffed the constable. "I know you and your games-"

He paused, for a long sharp cry came clear. Nibby started too; his own trap was set just in that direction.

"There!" he said, recovering. "What did I tell you; now ain't 'earin' believin'? There it is agin! Comin', comin'!" he shouted. "All right!"

"Shut up!" said the constable angrily.

"We ought to let it know," urged Nibby reproachfully.

"That's a hare; you know it is. And so it was before, an' I mean to see who's catchin' em. You come too; an' no tricks."

"Just to convince you," said Nibby, wavering between fear and desire. The hare in his pocket was dead-but for its weight he had almost forgotten it-and his ears cocked and his nostrils quivered as the distant hare cried anew. He had to check himself, although every step assured him it was his own trap filled, and he was torn with the thought of losing both prey and steel. He eyed his companion askance, muttering his fiction and hesitating doubtfully; keeping himself slightly in the rear with his bulging pocket on the far side. But the policeman also seemed eager in the new quest, and presently the two turned through the hedge, crossed a stubble field diagonally, and there, over the next hedge and ten yards out, a little mound sat on the fallow. Then the

mound became an extended form, leaping and screaming.

"I never did!" ejaculated Nibby. "You're right; an' what a thing it is to 'ave young 'earin'. Shall I carry it 'ome for you?"

Nibby would have crossed the hedge to the trapped hare, but the policeman checked him sternly. "We'll wait a bit first and see who comes," he said, crouching beside the hedge and motioning.

"Eh-h?" said Nibby recoiling. "Oh, I see, you want to ketch somebody. Then you'll excuse me; I ain't paid for this. It must be nigh ten o'clock, an' there's my colic, an' my old woman, an' my nateral rest."

"Do you think I'm goin' to let you off to tell all the county?" asked the policeman. "You stop, an' stop quiet. You'll be rewarded for what you do." "I don't wish it," said Nibby receding. "Look here," said the constable threateningly. "Somebody set that trap, an' I've got you for one. If any. body else comes I shall know; if not I shall want to know a little more about you. See?"

"Ah!" said Nibby, taken aback. "Now you've got me 'ere on the squire's land you mean swearin' away my character!... Just so; but it's mine. It's all very well for you; you'll get smiles from the big pots, an' tips, an' your name in the paper, an' be booked for a rise; all over enticin' with a little, wild, four-legged, poor tortured crittur! All right; if you will 'ave me stop

I must obey the law. An' to think some poor man may 'ear it an' smell roast 'are, an' maybe 'e's got an onion for supper! . . . Eh, close to you? Cert'nly, cer-tainly."

Nibby had manœuvred further along, designing to hide the hare he carried; but the constable kept him close, and Nibby snuggled dutifully in the hedge beside him. "You do the watchin'," he murmured. Then suddenly he won

dered privately whether John Ragg were abroad, and what he would say when he missed-surly, silent John Ragg-and how he would look! And here he himself lay perforce cheek by jowl with a policeman, watching his own trap with John's hare in his pocket! "Oh dear!" he gurgled, after his cheeks had puffed a moment. "It's the-mix-ture!" he gasped, hugging himself, "'orfufly sorry. . . . Yes, yes, if anybody comes touch me wi' your foot. Don't poke my in'ards."

The trapped hare had not cried very many times before the policeman half rose stealthily, and Nibby rose too, and peered over the hedge. A vague dark shape was advancing along by the bank. The shape was that of a man, and from long practice in the dark hours Nibby soon knew the man was John Ragg; but Nibby dared not cough, his pocket was not yet empty. John stopped a dozen yards away and looked round; then, as he stepped in open field decisively, the eager officer moved. Then Nibby jerked a stone, taken from his furnished pocket, with the accuracy of the practised poacher.

John jumped as though he had been shot, and Nibby's features puckered deeply as he throttled a chuckle. The constable turned on him sharply; his face dropped instantly to the most solemn gravity. In the field John hesitated a moment and then retreated uncertainly.

"What was it?" breathed the constable.

"E smelt you," answered Nibby wisely. "'E must 'ave caught a full whiff o' bob-o' the law. The wind's that way."

"Who was it?"

"Uncommon like the build of our dear vicar," muttered Nibby meditatively. "Eh! what the-?"

The policeman had Nibby by the collar. "This way!" he hissed, "he's coming back."

He constrained Nibby further along the hedge, away, and Nibby dared not resist; for he was nursing his jacket out of danger. "Lay close!" said the constable intensely; and Nibby did-to his hare.

John Ragg looked down the hedge but saw nothing. He listened but heard nothing. Then he went to the trap and bent over it decisively; and then the constable jumped.

But Nibby jumped first. And he stumbled and tumbled, right before the constable. The two rolled over together, for Nibby clutched the other's tunic and made the fall sure. "Leave go!" gasped the officer. "That cussed briar!" ejaculated Nibby, holding tight. "Leave go!" hissed the officer, struggling and cuffing, for the chase was escaping at speed, "leave go, you fool!"

"You round on me!" said Nibby vengefully. But the constable jerked himself free and jumped off in pursuit. Out in the field was the form of the pursued one, dark against the moon, and running like a man encumbered. Nibby thrust his hare in the hedge and ran also, shouting threats against the policeman. But his face was wreathing.

The leader made for the nearest end of the village, four fields off. When he reached the next hedge, beside which ran a narrow brook, there was a splash, and Nibby shouted, "'E's slipped off the plank!" But he showed clear directly.

At the brook Nibby stopped a long moment, but the policeman thought only of the man in front. And the man in front ran lighter, while Nibby ran heavier by the load of a damp hare. Ahead, a glimmer showed in the nearest dark block. The block was a beerhouse just on the outskirts of the village, and the leader ran straight for it. "E means for the Flower Pot!" chuckled Nibby from the rear. "That'll be full!"

66

He did. He dashed through a garden hedge (leading by a few yards only), clattered a moment in the yard, and the next instant a door slammed. When the officer reached the back door of the inn it was fast. He thundered a moment, and then tore round to the front entrance as furiously. (Nibby, safely in the rear, made another short pause about the inn yard.)

The taproom was a haze of smoke and a reek of earthed clothes, and had seven or eight men in it. The constable looked round savagely and saw John Ragg panting hard.

"It's you!" he said, gripping him by the collar. "Look at your boots! There, I don't want everybody to swear he ain't just rushed in, because I know different. I've run this man with a hare from the squire's land," he explained to the landlord, while John exclaimed in surly denial. "This man bears witness," he said, as Nibby entered.

"What was 'e doin'?" asked the landlord.

"Watchin' with me."

"Oh!" said the landlord. The company tittered, and Nibby behind winked indescribably.

"I cou'n't swear to my own mother," he said advancing. He was in his shirt sleeves and had his jacket bunched under his arm. "What is it, John? 'as 'e pitched on you? Well, there's no accountin' for some folks. 'E looked at me a bit back as though 'e thought I'd got a brace o' pheasants in my weskit pocket."

"You looked swelled," said the policeman sharply.

"I was troubled near my 'eart," said Nibby chuckling. "You 'eard?"

"I heard your row."

"That was my 'firmity," said Nibby, chuckling more. "I only 'opes you'll never ketch nothing o' the sort. I should 'umor 'im, John; you see 'ow the poor thing is."

"What do you mean?" snapped the policeman.

"Don't get red in the face," said Nibby, who had put off his suavity and looked saucy. "You forget I'm your mate an' you've clouted me once an' I may be gettin' tired."

"Ten o'clock, ten o'clock," said the landlord sharply. "No row 'ere; outside, please. I wonder you don't set a better example, constable." The policeman glared, but he ushered John Ragg through the front door promptly.

"You've picked your winnin' post, anyway," said Nibby approvingly, when everybody was out in the moonlight. The Flower Pot stood on the corner of a space at the end of the village where three roads met. It was not a green, for the landowner whose estate touched there had planted trees where children used to play, and enclosed them with an iron fence. Nibby lolled back against this fencing with a quart measure in his hand. He had put his jacket on, and looked more swollen than formerly. "I'll bring the mug back in the mornin'," he told the landlord. "I trust's I'm not transgressin'?" he said, holding the pot up to the constable. "Then good 'ealth and better temper."

"Will you come quiet, or shall I search you now?" said the constable to John Ragg.

"You've no right," said John sullenly. "An' you might 'ave begun elsewhere." "Sarch the lot," said Nibby, advancing as the policeman hesitated, for John had stiffened himself. "Sarch 'em all, I say. 'Ere, stand in a row, you chaps."

The men waggishly ranged themselves into line from John Ragg and the policeman. They knew Nibby, who placed himself at the other end, pot in hand. "Shall I give the word?" he asked, touching his cap to the constable. "My superior officer," he explained.

"Go home!" said the policeman hotly. "I've had enough o' your jaw." "When I'm savin' of you trouble," said Nibby reproachfully. "Dress!"

he said sharply to the line. The men straightened themselves. "On-dress," said Nibby, "an' shake!” The men guffawed, and the constable swore.

"Let 'em peel an' shake theirselves," said Nibby persuasively. "I shall see if anything falls. . . . Very well. Trim yer buttons, men. Right about! Dis-! Well, young man," explained Nibby loftily, "you can't search 'em against their will, none of 'em. I puts 'em on their honor. That's the worst o' policemen, you allus 'ave to teach 'em the law. You see [patting his bulging coat absently], you didn't ketch them outside."

"I can search you," said the maddened officer, gripping Nibby suddenly.

But Nibby was ready. He writhed and jerked himself, and the constable received the contents of the quart pot in his face and over him. While he gasped and dashed it out of his eyes Nibby made off round the railings. The policeman sprang after him and the group yelled.

Nibby made the circuit, leading. As he came round he shouted, "Clear the course! Clear the course!" and as he passed the inn he brandished the quart pot and flung his arms in extravagant burlesque of frantic speed. "Back yer fancy!" he yelled, "back yer fancy!" The spectators roared and clapped their hands; they straggled out to watch; they rocked and swayed in mirth; they made curious half-doubled shapes under the moon. Cottage doors clicked round the space, and lighted openings blocked with dark forms showed. A running fire of laughter and cheering followed Nibby as he went.

It couldn't last. Nibby was caught opposite the Flower Pot, where an eager crowd clustered, for other inns had emptied, and it seemed that half the village was there, buzzing and The Cornhill Magazine.

humming and rejoicing under the mounting moon. They made a dense ring with Nibby and the constable in the centre. Amid a hush of curiosity the policeman felt Nibby's pocket outside, inside. "'Ave you done?" asked Nibby, as his captor withdrew his hand and receded sullenly. "Then now allow me."

Nibby took off his coat, and from an immense pocket produced a big wisp of hay. "For my complaint," he said, shaking it aloft. "Don't go, young man; your master the squire 'll 'ear in the mornin'. Don't hurry."

The furious constable was squeezing through the jeering crowd with difficulty.

"'E pressed me to 'sist 'im in the watchin'," said Nibby loudly. "I believe 'e set the trap an' put the crittur in for a draw. An' 'e clouted me when I slipped an' accidental upset 'im gently, an' 'e spilt my beer as I paid for, an' 'e insulted my complaint, an' then 'e tried to take my character away afore my neighbors. Young man," declared Nibby solemnly, "I shall go 'ome an' pray for you, an' I shall take John Ragg with me. Why," he asked shrilly, "where is John? John Rag-g!"

The policeman had got clear and was several yards off, but he stopped. John Ragg was missing.

"What have you done with 'im, young man?" called Nibby. "Do you think 'e's gone to see what it was 'ollered when you met me fust? Or what it was that man dropped in the water when we run 'im wi' that 'are? Do you think that was a bundle of 'ay?"

The policeman went off definitely; Nibby went; the company went. But the policeman did not again see John Ragg that night, and John Ragg did not find the hare he had thrown into the brook. And next morning Nibby Silks had for disposal two hares, which he declared ought to be worth an extra sixpence each. "They're 'ares with a 'istory," said he.

W. H. Rainsford.