Buller was not the only Weston boy who broke out unlawfully that night.  
From Mr Cookson’s house as from Dr Jolliffe’s an adventurer stole forth¹. But Saurin’s object was not so innocent as Buller’s, neither was it so unpremeditated. For he nursed felonious designs against Lord Woodruff’s pheasants, and the project had been deliberately² planned, and, as we know, the key which was to open the yard door cunningly manufactured, a long time beforehand.
 
Edwards, as a result of talking about the expedition, and his friend’s glowing anticipation³ of the fun of it, became quite anxious to join in. But Marriner did not think this advisable when Saurin put the matter to him. They only had one air-gun, and two were quite enough for a stealthy excursion of this kind. A third could take no part in the proceedings⁴, and would only be an extra chance of attracting observation. As a matter of fact, Marriner would rather have been quite alone, as his custom was on these predatory occasions, and it was only his desire to make Saurin an accomplice⁵, and so seal his mouth, which induced him to depart from his ordinary custom now. And to tell the truth, when the time actually came, and Edwards saw his friend steal along the yard, unlock and open the door at the further end, and close it behind him, he was glad in his heart that he was not going too. Not because it was wrong: he had got his ideas so twisted that he thought it an heroic piece of business altogether, and admired Saurin for his lawless daring. But he felt conscious of not being cast in the heroic mould himself, and actually shuddered⁶ at the thought of gliding⁷ about the woods at dead of night, thinking that someone was watching him behind every tree, and might spring out upon him at any moment. Especially when he curled himself up in bed, and pulled the blankets snugly⁸ round him, did he feel convinced that he was far more comfortable where he was than he would have been in Lord Woodruff’s preserves.
 
Saurin had no compunctions of this sort; he did not flinch⁹ when the time came; on the contrary, when he found himself out in the fields he felt a keen thrill of enjoyment¹⁰. There was just enough sense of danger for excitement, not enough for unpleasant nervousness. To be engaged in what was forbidden was always a source of delight to him, and here he was braving the rules of his school and breaking the laws of his country all at once: it was like champagne¹¹ to him. Yet it was the very height of absurdity¹² to risk expulsion, imprisonment¹³, perhaps penal¹⁴ servitude for nothing, literally¹⁵ for nothing.
 
He had no earthly use for the game when it was stolen, Marriner would have it and sell it, but the question of Saurin’s sharing in the profits had not even been mooted¹⁶. To do him justice he had not thought of such a thing, the sport was all that tempted¹⁷ him. The field of their operations was not to be near Marriner’s house, but in a part of the estates a good bit nearer Weston, and on the other side of it. Marriner had learned that there was to be a poaching expedition on a large scale that night at the other extremity¹⁸ of the preserves, a good three miles off. He knew the men and their method. They used ordinary guns, killed off all they could in a short time, and got away before the keepers could assemble in force, or if they were surprised they showed fight. He never joined in such bold attacks, but when he knew of them took advantage, as he proposed to do on the present occasion, of the keepers being drawn¹⁹ away, to do a little quiet business on his own account in another direction. The place appointed for Saurin to meet Marriner was a wood-stack reached by a path across the fields, two miles from Weston. Closing the yard door behind him, but not locking it, he started off at a sharp walk, keeping in the shade whenever he could, though all was so still and noiseless that he seemed almost to be the only being in the world, when he had once got quite out of the sight of houses. But no, a night-hawk swept by him, so close as to make him start, and a stoat met him in the middle of a trodden path across a ploughed field; showing that there were other game depredators besides himself abroad. The way seemed longer than it was in the daytime, but at last he got to the wood-stack, where he saw no one, but presently a figure stole round the corner and joined him: Marriner with the air-gun and a sack.
 
“It’s all right,” he said, “I heard the guns nigh half-an-hour ago. There’s never a watcher nor keeper within more nor a couple of miles off, and we have a clear field to ourselves.”
 
Saurin took the gun, for it was an understood thing beforehand that he was to have all the shooting, which indeed was but fair, and Marriner, carrying the sack, led the way to a coppice hard by, indeed the wood forming the stack had been cut out of it. He crept on hands and knees through the hedge and glided²¹ into the brushwood, Saurin following, for some little distance. Suddenly he stopped, laid his hand on his companion’s arm, and pointed²⁰ upwards²². Perched on the branch of a tree, and quite clear against the moonlit sky, was a round ball.
 
“Pheasant?” asked Saurin.
 
“Yes,” was the reply. “And there’s another roosting there, and another yonder, and another—”
 
“I see them,” replied Saurin in the same whispered tones. And raising his air-gun he got the roosting bird in a line with the sights, which was as easy to do pretty nearly as in broad day, and pressed the trigger. The black ball came tumbling down with a thump²⁴ on the ground, and Marriner, pouncing²⁵ upon it, put it in his sack. A second, a third were bagged without stirring from the spot. A few steps farther on another, who had been disturbed by the whip-cracks of the air-gun, had withdrawn²⁶ his head from under his wing. But he did not take to flight at once, being comfortable where he was and the sounds not very alarming, and while he hesitated he received a violent shock in the middle of his breast, which knocked him off his perch²³ powerless and dying. A little further on another, and then yet another were bagged: it was a well-stocked coppice, and had not been shot yet. Lord Woodruff was reserving that part for some friends who were coming at Christmas, and with the prospects²⁷ of whose sport I fear that Saurin somewhat interfered²⁸ that night. The sack indeed was pretty heavy by the time they had gone through the wood, and then Marriner thought that it would be more prudent²⁹ to decamp, and they retraced³⁰ their steps by a path which traversed the coppice. Once back at the wood-stack they were to separate, so before they left the coppice Marriner put down his now heavy sack, and Saurin handed him the air-gun, which he stowed away in his capacious pocket. Then they went on, and just as they were on the edge of the wood came suddenly upon a man.
 
“Hulloa! young gentleman,” exclaimed he to Saurin, who was leading, “what are you up to? What has the other got in that sack?”
 
Marriner slipped behind the trees.
&nbs............