When going out to look at a place where the chance of a berth has
offered itself, the keeper always takes good stock of the game in the
country through which he passes. You may meet him, at the end of the
season, setting out by road or by rail; he is clad in his best, you
will see; bright new gaiters encase his legs, his boots glitter with
polish. However great his hurry, as he goes along through park-lands or
woods, he is looking out for everything to be seen; not a sign of game
escapes him. And there lives a keeper who, passing through an estate
on his way to a personal interview with the owner, chanced to be led
out of the direct path by certain suspicious sounds which he heard,
and caught a poacher red-handed. It is hardly necessary to add that he
stepped forthwith into the vacant berth.
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