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At last, however, a wish of a very different nature came to pass. Daniel Thorpe detected Jesse in an actual offence against that fertile source of crime and misery, the game laws.

Thus the affair happened.

During many weeks, the neighbourhood had been infested by a gang of bold, sturdy pilferers, roving vagabonds, begging by day, stealing and poaching by night–who had committed such extensive devastations amongst the poultry and linen of the village, as well as the game in the preserves, that the whole population was upon the alert; and the lonely coppices of the Moors rendering that spot one peculiarly likely to attract the attention of the gang, old Daniel, reinforced by a stout lad as a sort of extra-guard, kept a most jealous watch over his territory.

Perambulating the outside of the wood one evening at sunset, he heard the cry of a hare; and climbing over the fence, had the unexpected pleasure of seeing our friend Jesse in the act of taking a leveret still alive from the wire. “So, so, master Jesse! thou be’st turned poacher, be’st thou?” ejaculated Daniel, with a malicious chuckle, seizing, at one fell grip, the hare and the lad.

“Miss Phoebe!” ejaculated Jesse, submitting himself to the old man’s grasp, but struggling to retain the leveret; “Miss Phoebe!”

“Miss Phoebe, indeed!” responded Daniel; “she saved thee once, my lad, but thy time’s come now. What do’st thee want of the leveret, mon? Do’st not thee know that ’tis part of the evidence against thee? Well, he may carry that whilst I carry the snare. Master’ll be main glad to see un. He always suspected the chap. And for the matter of that so did I. Miss Phoebe, indeed! Come along, my mon, I warrant thou hast seen thy last o’ Miss Phoebe. Come on wi’ thee.”

And Jesse was hurried as fast as Daniel’s legs would carry him to the presence of Farmer Cobham.

On entering the house (not the old deserted homestead of the Moors, but the comfortable dwelling-house at Aberleigh) Jesse delivered the panting, trembling leveret to the first person he met, with no other explanation than might be comprised in the words, “Miss Phoebe!” and followed Daniel quietly to the hall.

“Poaching, was he? Taking the hare from the wire? And you saw him? You can swear to the fact?” quoth John Cobham, rubbing his hands with unusual glee. “Well, now we shall be fairly rid of the fellow! Take him to the Chequers for the night, Daniel, and get another man beside yourself to sit up with him. It’s too late to disturb Sir Robert this evening. To-morrow morning we’ll take him to the Hall. See that the constable’s ready by nine o’clock. No doubt but Sir Robert will commit him to the county bridewell.”

“Oh, grandpapa!” exclaimed Phoebe, darting into the room with the leveret in her arms, and catching the last words. “Oh, grandpapa! poor Jesse!”

“Miss Phoebe!” ejaculated the culprit

“Oh, grandfather, it’s all my fault,” continued Phoebe; “and if anybody is to go to prison, you ought to send me. I had been reading about Cowper’s hares, and I wanted a young hare to tame: I took a fancy for one, and told poor Jesse! And to think of his going to prison for that!”

“And did you tell him to set a wire for the hare, Phoebe?”

“A wire! what does that mean?” said the bewildered child. “But I dare say,” added she, upon Farmer Cobham’s explaining the nature of the snare, “I dare say that the poachers set the wire, and that he only took up the hare for me, to please my foolish fancy! Oh, grandpapa! Poor Jesse!” and Phoebe cried as if her heart would break.

“God bless you, Miss Phoebe!” said Jesse.

“All this is nonsense!” exclaimed the unrelenting fanner. “Take the prisoner to the Chequers, Daniel, and get another man to keep you company in sitting up with him. Have as much strong beer as you like, and be sure to bring him and the constable here by nine o’clock to-morrow morning.”