Odd Craft, Complete

by W. W. Jacobs

  The old man sat on his accustomed bench outside the Cauliflower. Agenerous measure of beer stood in a blue and white jug by his elbow, andlittle wisps of smoke curled slowly upward from the bowl of hischurchwarden pipe. The knapsacks of two young men lay where they wereflung on the table, and the owners, taking a noon-tide rest, turned apolite, if bored, ear to the reminiscences of grateful old age.

  Poaching, said the old man, who had tried topics ranging from earlyturnips to horseshoeing--poaching ain't wot it used to be in these 'ereparts. Nothing is like it used to be, poaching nor anything else; butthat there man you might ha' noticed as went out about ten minutes agoand called me "Old Truthfulness" as 'e passed is the worst one I know.Bob Pretty 'is name is, and of all the sly, artful, deceiving men thatever lived in Claybury 'e is the worst--never did a honest day's work in'is life and never wanted the price of a glass of ale.

  Bob Pretty's worst time was just after old Squire Brown died. The oldsquire couldn't afford to preserve much, but by-and-by a gentleman withplenty o' money, from London, named Rockett, took 'is place and thingsbegan to look up. Pheasants was 'is favourites, and 'e spent no end o'money rearing of 'em, but anything that could be shot at suited 'im,too.

  He started by sneering at the little game that Squire Brown 'ad left,but all 'e could do didn't seem to make much difference; thingsdisappeared in a most eggstrordinary way, and the keepers went prettynear crazy, while the things the squire said about Claybury and Clayburymen was disgraceful.

  Everybody knew as it was Bob Pretty and one or two of 'is mates fromother places, but they couldn't prove it. They couldn't catch 'im nohow,and at last the squire 'ad two keepers set off to watch 'im by night andby day.

  Bob Pretty wouldn't believe it; he said 'e couldn't. And even when itwas pointed out to 'im that Keeper Lewis was follering of 'im he saidthat it just 'appened he was going the same way, that was all. Andsometimes 'e'd get up in the middle of the night and go for afifteen-mile walk 'cos 'e'd got the toothache, and Mr. Lewis, who 'adn'tgot it, had to tag along arter 'im till he was fit to drop. O' course,it was one keeper the less to look arter the game, and by-and-by thesquire see that and took 'im off.

  All the same they kept a pretty close watch on Bob, and at last onearternoon they sprang out on 'im as he was walking past Gray's farm, andasked him wot it was he 'ad in his pockets.

  "That's my bisness, Mr. Lewis," ses Bob Pretty.

  Mr. Smith, the other keeper, passed 'is hands over Bob's coat and feltsomething soft and bulgy.

  "You take your 'ands off of me," ses Bob; "you don't know 'ow partiklerI am."

  He jerked 'imself away, but they caught 'old of 'im agin, and Mr. Lewisput 'is hand in his inside pocket and pulled out two brace o'partridges.

  "You'll come along of us," he ses, catching 'im by the arm.

  "We've been looking for you a long time," ses Keeper Smith, "and it's apleasure for us to 'ave your company."

  Bob Pretty said 'e wouldn't go, but they forced 'im along and took 'imall the way to Cudford, four miles off, so that Policeman White couldlock 'im up for the night. Mr. White was a'most as pleased as thekeepers, and 'e warned Bob solemn not to speak becos all 'e said wouldbe used agin 'im.

  "Never mind about that," ses Bob Pretty. "I've got a clear conscience,and talking can't 'urt me. I'm very glad to see you, Mr. White; if thesetwo clever, experienced keepers hadn't brought me I should 'ave lookedyou up myself. They've been and stole my partridges."

  Them as was standing round laughed, and even Policeman White couldn't'elp giving a little smile.

  "There's nothing to laugh at," ses Bob, 'olding his 'ead up. "It's afine thing when a working man--a 'ardworking man--can't take home alittle game for 'is family without being stopped and robbed."

  "I s'pose they flew into your pocket?" ses Police-man White.

  "No, they didn't," ses Bob. "I'm not going to tell any lies about it; Iput 'em there. The partridges in my inside coat-pocket and the bill inmy waistcoat-pocket."

  "The bill?" ses Keeper Lewis, staring at 'im.

  "Yes, the bill," ses Bob Pretty, staring back at 'im; "the bill from Mr.Keen, the poulterer, at Wick-ham."

  He fetched it out of 'is pocket and showed it to Mr. White, and thekeepers was like madmen a'most 'cos it was plain to see that Bob Pretty'ad been and bought them partridges just for to play a game on 'em.

  "I was curious to know wot they tasted like," he ses to the policeman."Worst of it is, I don't s'pose my pore wife'll know 'ow to cook 'em."

  "You get off 'ome," ses Policeman White, staring at 'im.

  "But ain't I goin' to be locked up?" ses Bob. "'Ave I been brought allthis way just to 'ave a little chat with a policeman I don't like."

  "You go 'ome," ses Policeman White, handing the partridges back to 'im.

  "All right," ses Bob, "and I may 'ave to call you to witness that these'ere two men laid hold o' me and tried to steal my partridges. I shallgo up and see my loryer about it."

  He walked off 'ome with his 'ead up as high as 'e could hold it, and theairs 'e used to give 'imself arter this was terrible for to behold. Hegot 'is eldest boy to write a long letter to the squire about it, sayingthat 'e'd overlook it this time, but 'e couldn't promise for the future.Wot with Bob Pretty on one side and Squire Rockett on the other, themtwo keepers' lives was 'ardly worth living.

  Then the squire got a head-keeper named Cutts, a man as was said to knowmore about the ways of poachers than they did themselves. He was said to'ave cleared out all the poachers for miles round the place 'e camefrom, and pheasants could walk into people's cottages and not betouched.

  He was a sharp-looking man, tall and thin, with screwed-up eyes and alittle red beard. The second day 'e came 'e was up here at this 'ereCauliflower, having a pint o' beer and looking round at the chaps as hetalked to the landlord. The odd thing was that men who'd never taken ahare or a pheasant in their lives could 'ardly meet 'is eye, while BobPretty stared at 'im as if 'e was a wax-works.

  "I 'ear you 'ad a little poaching in these parts afore I came," ses Mr.Cutts to the landlord.

  "I think I 'ave 'eard something o' the kind," ses the landlord, staringover his 'ead with a far-away look in 'is eyes.

  "You won't hear of much more," ses the keeper. "I've invented a new wayof catching the dirty rascals; afore I came 'ere I caught all thepoachers on three estates. I clear 'em out just like a ferret clears outrats."

  "Sort o' man-trap?" ses the landlord.

  "Ah, that's tellings," ses Mr. Cutts.

  "Well, I 'ope you'll catch 'em here," ses Bob Pretty; "there's far toomany of 'em about for my liking. Far too many."

  "I shall 'ave 'em afore long," ses Mr. Cutts, nodding his 'ead.

  "Your good 'ealth," ses Bob Pretty, holding up 'is mug. "We've beenwanting a man like you for a long time."

  "I don't want any of your impidence, my man," ses the keeper. "I've'eard about you, and nothing good either. You be careful."

  "I am careful," ses Bob, winking at the others. "I 'ope you'll catch allthem low poaching chaps; they give the place a bad name, and I'm a'mostafraid to go out arter dark for fear of meeting 'em."

  Peter Gubbins and Sam Jones began to laugh, but Bob Pretty got angrywith 'em and said he didn't see there was anything to laugh at. He saidthat poaching was a disgrace to their native place, and instead o'laughing they ought to be thankful to Mr. Cutts for coming to do awaywith it all.

  "Any help I can give you shall be given cheerful," he ses to the keeper.

  "When I want your help I'll ask you for it," ses Mr. Cutts.

  "Thankee," ses Bob Pretty. "I on'y 'ope I sha'n't get my face knockedabout like yours 'as been, that's all; 'cos my wife's so partikler."

  "Wot d'ye mean?" ses Mr. Cutts, turning on him. "My face ain't beenknocked about."

  "Oh, I beg your pardin," ses Bob; "I didn't know it was natural."

  Mr. Cutts went black in the face a'most and stared at Bob Pretty as if'e was going to eat 'im, and Bob stared back, looking fust at thekeeper's
nose and then at 'is eyes and mouth, and then at 'is nose agin.

  "You'll know me agin, I s'pose?" ses Mr. Cutts, at last.

  "Yes," ses Bob, smiling; "I should know you a mile off--on the darkestnight."

  "We shall see," ses Mr. Cutts, taking up 'is beer and turning 'is backon him. "Those of us as live the longest'll see the most."

  "I'm glad I've lived long enough to see 'im," ses Bob to Bill Chambers."I feel more satisfied with myself now."

  Bill Chambers coughed, and Mr. Cutts, arter finishing 'is beer, tookanother look at Bob Pretty, and went off boiling a'most.

  The trouble he took to catch Bob Pretty arter that you wouldn't believe,and all the time the game seemed to be simply melting away, and SquireRockett was finding fault with 'im all day long. He was worn to ashadder a'most with watching, and Bob Pretty seemed to be moreprosperous than ever.

  Sometimes Mr. Cutts watched in the plantations, and sometimes 'e hid'imself near Bob's house, and at last one night, when 'e was crouchingbehind the fence of Frederick Scott's front garden, 'e saw Bob Prettycome out of 'is house and, arter a careful look round, walk up the road.He held 'is breath as Bob passed 'im, and was just getting up to foller'im when Bob stopped and walked slowly back agin, sniffing.

  "Wot a delicious smell o' roses!" he ses, out loud.

  He stood in the middle o' the road nearly opposite where the keeper washiding, and sniffed so that you could ha' 'eard him the other end o' thevillage.

  "It can't be roses," he ses, in a puzzled voice, "be-cos there ain't noroses hereabouts, and, besides, it's late for 'em. It must be Mr. Cutts,the clever new keeper."

  He put his 'ead over the fence and bid 'im good evening, and said wot afine night for a stroll it was, and asked 'im whether 'e was waiting forFrederick Scott's aunt. Mr. Cutts didn't answer 'im a word; 'e waspretty near bursting with passion. He got up and shook 'is fist in BobPretty's face, and then 'e went off stamping down the road as if 'e wasgoing mad.

  And for a time Bob Pretty seemed to 'ave all the luck on 'is side.Keeper Lewis got rheumatic fever, which 'e put down to sitting aboutnight arter night in damp places watching for Bob, and, while 'e was inthe thick of it, with the doctor going every day, Mr. Cutts fell ingetting over a fence and broke 'is leg. Then all the work fell on KeeperSmith, and to 'ear 'im talk you'd think that rheumatic fever and brokenlegs was better than anything else in the world. He asked the squire for'elp, but the squire wouldn't give it to 'im, and he kept telling 'imwot a feather in 'is cap it would be if 'e did wot the other twocouldn't do, and caught Bob Pretty. It was all very well, but, as Smithsaid, wot 'e wanted was feathers in 'is piller, instead of 'aving tosnatch a bit o' sleep in 'is chair or sitting down with his 'ead agin atree. When I tell you that 'e fell asleep in this public-'ouse one nightwhile the landlord was drawing a pint o' beer he 'ad ordered, you'llknow wot 'e suffered.

  O' course, all this suited Bob Pretty as well as could be, and 'e wasthat good-tempered 'e'd got a nice word for everybody, and when BillChambers told 'im 'e was foolhardy 'e only laughed and said 'e knew wot'e was about.

  But the very next night 'e had reason to remember Bill Chambers's words.He was walking along Farmer Hall's field--the one next to the squire'splantation--and, so far from being nervous, 'e was actually a-whistling.He'd got a sack over 'is shoulder, loaded as full as it could be, and 'e'ad just stopped to light 'is pipe when three men burst out o' theplantation and ran toward 'im as 'ard as they could run.

  Bob Pretty just gave one look and then 'e dropped 'is pipe and set offlike a hare. It was no good dropping the sack, because Smith, thekeeper, 'ad recognised 'im and called 'im by name, so 'e just put 'isteeth together and did the best he could, and there's no doubt that ifit 'adn't ha' been for the sack 'e could 'ave got clear away.

  As it was, 'e ran for pretty near a mile, and they could 'ear 'imbreathing like a pair o' bellows; but at last 'e saw that the game wasup. He just man-aged to struggle as far as Farmer Pinnock's pond, andthen, waving the sack round his 'ead, 'e flung it into the middle of it,and fell down gasping for breath.

  "Got--you--this time--Bob Pretty," ses one o' the men, as they came up.

  "Wot--Mr. Cutts?" ses Bob, with a start. "That's me, my man," ses thekeeper.

  "Why--I thought--you was. Is that Mr. Lewis? It can't be."

  "That's me," ses Keeper Lewis. "We both got well sudden-like, BobPretty, when we 'eard you was out. You ain't so sharp as you thought youwas."

  Bob Pretty sat still, getting 'is breath back and doing a bit o'thinking at the same time.

  "You give me a start," he ses, at last. "I thought you was both in bed,and, knowing 'ow hard worked Mr. Smith 'as been, I just came round to'elp 'im keep watch like. I promised to 'elp you, Mr. Cutts, if youremember."

  "Wot was that you threw in the pond just now?" ses Mr. Cutts.

  "A sack," ses Bob Pretty; "a sack I found in Farmer Hall's field. Itfelt to me as though it might 'ave birds in it, so I picked it up, and Iwas just on my way to your 'ouse with it, Mr. Cutts, when you startedarter me."

  "Ah!" ses the keeper, "and wot did you run for?"

  Bob Pretty tried to laugh. "Becos I thought it was the poachers arterme," he ses. "It seems ridikilous, don't it?"

  "Yes, it does," ses Lewis.

  "I thought you'd know me a mile off," ses Mr. Cutts. "I should ha'thought the smell o' roses would ha' told you I was near."

  Bob Pretty scratched 'is 'ead and looked at 'im out of the corner of 'iseye, but he 'adn't got any answer. Then 'e sat biting his finger-nailsand thinking while the keepers stood argyfying as to who should take 'isclothes off and go into the pond arter the pheasants. It was a very coldnight and the pond was pretty deep in places, and none of 'em seemedanxious.

  "Make 'im go in for it," ses Lewis, looking at Bob; "'e chucked it in."

  "On'y Becos I thought you was poachers," ses Bob. "I'm sorry to 'avecaused so much trouble."

  "Well, you go in and get it out," ses Lewis, who pretty well guessedwho'd 'ave to do it if Bob didn't. "It'll look better for you, too."

  "I've got my defence all right," ses Bob Pretty. "I ain't set a foot onthe squire's preserves, and I found this sack a 'undred yards away fromit."

  "Don't waste more time," ses Mr. Cutts to Lewis.

  "Off with your clothes and in with you. Anybody'd think you was afraidof a little cold water."

  "Whereabouts did 'e pitch it in?" ses Lewis.

  Bob Pretty pointed with 'is finger exactly where 'e thought it was, butthey wouldn't listen to 'im, and then Lewis, arter twice saying wot abad cold he'd got, took 'is coat off very slow and careful.

  "I wouldn't mind going in to oblige you," ses Bob Pretty, "but the pondis so full o' them cold, slimy efts; I don't fancy them crawling up aginme, and, besides that, there's such a lot o' deep holes in it. Andwotever you do don't put your 'ead under; you know 'ow foul that wateris."

  Keeper Lewis pretended not to listen to 'im. He took off 'is clothesvery slowly and then 'e put one foot in and stood shivering, althoughSmith, who felt the water with his 'and, said it was quite warm. ThenLewis put the other foot in and began to walk about careful, 'arf-way upto 'is knees.

  "I can't find it," he ses, with 'is teeth chattering.

  "You 'aven't looked," ses Mr. Cutts; "walk about more; you can't expectto find it all at once. Try the middle."

  Lewis tried the middle, and 'e stood there up to 'is neck, feeling aboutwith his foot and saying things out loud about Bob Pretty, and otherthings under 'is breath about Mr. Cutts.

  "Well, I'm going off 'ome," ses Bob Pretty, getting up. "I'm tootender-'arted to stop and see a man drownded."

  "You stay 'ere," ses Mr. Cutts, catching 'old of him.

  "Wot for?" ses Bob; "you've got no right to keep me 'ere."

  "Catch 'old of 'im, Joe," ses Mr. Cutts, quick-like.

  Smith caught 'old of his other arm, and Lewis left off trying to findthe sack to watch the struggle. Bob Pretty fought 'ard, and once ortwice 'e nearly tumbled Mr. Cutts into the p
ond, but at last 'e gave inand lay down panting and talking about 'is loryer. Smith 'eld him downon the ground while Mr. Cutts kept pointing out places with 'is fingerfor Lewis to walk to. The last place 'e pointed to wanted a much tallerman, but it wasn't found out till too late, and the fuss Keeper Lewismade when 'e could speak agin was terrible.

  "You'd better come out," ses Mr. Cutts; "you ain't doing no good. Weknow where they are and we'll watch the pond till daylight--that is,unless Smith 'ud like to 'ave a try."

  "It's pretty near daylight now, I think," ses Smith.

  Lewis came out and ran up and down to dry 'imself, and finished off on'is pocket-'andkerchief, and then with 'is teeth chattering 'e began todress 'imself. He got 'is shirt on, and then 'e stood turning over 'isclothes as if 'e was looking for something.

  "Never mind about your stud now," ses Mr. Cutts; "hurry up and dress."

  "Stud?" ses Lewis, very snappish. "I'm looking for my trowsis."

  "Your trowsis?" ses Smith, 'elping 'im look.

  "I put all my clothes together," ses Lewis, a'most shouting. "Where arethey? I'm 'arf perished with cold. Where are they?"

  "He 'ad 'em on this evening," ses Bob Pretty, "'cos I remember noticing'em."

  "They must be somewhere about," ses Mr. Cutts; "why don't you use youreyes?"

  He walked up and down, peering about, and as for Lewis he was 'oppinground 'arf crazy.

  "I wonder," ses Bob Pretty, in a thoughtful voice, to Smith--"I wonderwhether you or Mr. Cutts kicked 'em in the pond while you was strugglingwith me. Come to think of it, I seem to remember 'earing a splash."

  "He's done it, Mr. Cutts," ses Smith; "never mind, it'll go all the'arder with 'im."

  "But I do mind," ses Lewis, shouting. "I'll be even with you for this,Bob Pretty. I'll make you feel it. You wait till I've done with you.You'll get a month extra for this, you see if you don't."

  "Don't you mind about me," ses Bob; "you run off 'ome and cover up themlegs of yours. I found that sack, so my conscience is clear."

  Lewis put on 'is coat and waistcoat and set off, and Mr. Cutts andSmith, arter feeling about for a dry place, set theirselves down andbegan to smoke.

  "Look 'ere," ses Bob Pretty, "I'm not going to sit 'ere all night toplease you; I'm going off 'ome. If you want me you'll know where to findme."

  "You stay where you are," ses Mr. Cutts. "We ain't going to let you outof our sight."

  "Very well, then, you take me 'ome," ses Bob. "I'm not going to catch mydeath o' cold sitting 'ere. I'm not used to being out of a night likeyou are. I was brought up respectable."

  "I dare say," ses Mr. Cutts. "Take you 'ome, and then 'ave one o' yourmates come and get the sack while we're away."

  Then Bob Pretty lost 'is temper, and the things 'e said about Mr. Cuttswasn't fit for Smith to 'ear. He threw 'imself down at last full lengthon the ground and sulked till the day broke.

  Keeper Lewis was there a'most as soon as it was light, with some longhay-rakes he'd borrowed, and I should think that pretty near 'arf thefolks in Clay-bury 'ad turned up to see the fun. Mrs. Pretty was cryingand wringing 'er 'ands; but most folks seemed to be rather pleased thatBob 'ad been caught at last.

  In next to no time 'arf-a-dozen rakes was at work, and the things theybrought out o' that pond you wouldn't believe. The edge of it was alllittered with rusty tin pails and saucepans and such-like, and by-and-byLewis found the things he'd 'ad to go 'ome without a few hours afore,but they didn't seem to find that sack, and Bob Pretty, wot was talkingto 'is wife, began to look 'opeful.

  But just then the squire came riding up with two friends as was stayingwith 'im, and he offered a reward of five shillings to the man wot foundit. Three or four of 'em waded in up to their middle then and rakedtheir 'ardest, and at last Henery Walker give a cheer and brought it tothe side, all heavy with water.

  "That's the sack I found, sir," ses Bob, starting up. "It wasn't on yourland at all, but on the field next to it. I'm an honest, 'ardworkingman, and I've never been in trouble afore. Ask anybody 'ere and they'lltell you the same."

  Squire Rockett took no notice of 'im. "Is that the sack?" he asks,turning to Mr. Cutts.

  "That's the one, sir," ses Mr. Cutts. "I'd swear to it anywhere."

  "You'd swear a man's life away," ses Bob. "'Ow can you swear to it whenit was dark?"

  Mr. Cutts didn't answer 'im. He went down on 'is knees and cut thestring that tied up the mouth o' the sack, and then 'e started back asif 'e'd been shot, and 'is eyes a'most started out of 'is 'ead.

  "Wot's the matter?" ses the squire.

  Mr. Cutts couldn't speak; he could only stutter and point at the sackwith 'is finger, and Henery Walker, as was getting curious, lifted upthe other end of it and out rolled a score of as fine cabbages as youcould wish to see.

  I never see people so astonished afore in all my born days, and as forBob Pretty, 'e stood staring at them cabbages as if 'e couldn't believe'is eyesight.

  "And that's wot I've been kept 'ere all night for," he ses, at last,shaking his 'ead. "That's wot comes o' trying to do a kindness tokeepers, and 'elping of 'em in their difficult work. P'r'aps that ain'tthe sack arter all, Mr. Cutts. I could ha' sworn they was pheasants inthe one I found, but I may be mistook, never 'aving 'ad one in my 'andsafore. Or p'r'aps somebody was trying to 'ave a game with you, Mr.Cutts, and deceived me instead."

  The keepers on'y stared at 'im.

  "You ought to be more careful," ses Bob. "Very likely while you wastaking all that trouble over me, and Keeper Lewis was catching 'is deatho' cold, the poachers was up at the plantation taking all they wanted.And, besides, it ain't right for Squire Rockett to 'ave to pay HeneryWalker five shillings for finding a lot of old cabbages. I shouldn'tlike it myself."

  He looked out of the corner of 'is eye at the squire, as was pretendingnot to notice Henery Walker touching 'is cap to him, and then 'e turnsto 'is wife and he ses:

  "Come along, old gal," 'e ses. "I want my breakfast bad, and arter thatI shall 'ave to lose a honest day's work in bed."

  DIXON'S RETURN