Shepherds like their pot of beer--and some of them are wondrously fond
of a fight, and so may become useful allies to the keeper when poachers
are to be dealt with. We knew a shepherd who would always be especially
retained to help the keepers of an estate at times when pheasants were
liable to be shot at night. His appointment came about in this way:
the head keeper, during the absence of an assistant, had employed the
shepherd to watch, and had dosed him with half a gallon of beer to
keep the cold out before sending him off on duty. The beer and the
night air were not without effect; and when presently a human form came
stealthily along in the shadow of a moon-lit ride, the shepherd was in
grand fighting trim and spirit. He waited his chance, then sprang like
a lion on the intruder, gripped his throat, bore him to the earth, and
belaboured him in hearty fashion. He was about to tie him hand and foot
when he saw that he was tackling his own master from the mansion, who,
having been dining with a neighbour, had chosen to walk home by way of
his woods. So impressed was the master with the shepherd's valour on
behalf of his pheasants that he gave him a sovereign, and retained him
on the night staff at five shillings a night--_and_ half a gallon of
beer.
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