I felt so bold as a lion that night, for Squire Champernowne, of
Woodcotes, had died at dawn, and the countryside was all in a commotion,
and I knowed, what with talking and drinking in the pubs and running about
all day, that not a keeper would be to work after dark. A very good man
had been the Squire, though peppery and uncertain in his temper, and quick
to take offence, but honest and well-liked by all who worked for him.
'Twas one of they tragical moments, long expected but none the less
exciting, when death came, and I felt certain sure that I should have the
river to myself till morning.
But I was wrong. Looking upstream by good chance afore I got to work, I
saw a man in the meadow moonlight. There he was, making for the woods. He
was following the path I followed, and in five minutes I saw that he'd be
on the river-bank within ten yards of me. Of course, I thought the chap
was after me and had tracked me down. It astonished me a good bit to mark
him, and I saw he was a tall, slim man, much lighter than me, though very
near the same height. He didn't tally with my knowledge of any of the
Woodcotes keepers, so I felt better and hoped as it might be a stranger,
or a lunatic, or somebody as wouldn't be feeling any interest in me. But I
had to shift, of course, so I nipped off my rock and went under the bank
where the ivy fell over at the tail of the salmon pool.
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