judge by his own account of it. He was always telling of heroic
encounters with poachers in the forests, and though he never
seemed to succeed in catching them and bringing them before the
magistrate, his tales were a warning to evil-doers and few people
dared venture into the region which he guarded. He was often seen
creeping along the outskirts of the woods, his gun on his
shoulder, his round eyes rolling suspiciously in every direction,
or even loitering around the cow byres as if he thought game
might be secreted there.

At the very moment when Jock and Tam came flying over the fence
and down the hill like a cyclone after the rabbit, Angus was
kneeling beside the brook to get a drink. His lips were pursed up
and he was bending over almost to the surface of the water, when
something dashed past him, and an instant later something else
struck him like a thunderbolt from behind, and drove him
headforemost into the brook! It wasn't Tam that did it. It was
Jock! Of course, it was an accident, but Angus thought he had
done it on purpose, and he was probably the most surprised as
well as the angriest man in Scotland at that moment. He lifted
his head out of the brook and glared at Jock as fiercely as he
could with little rills of water pouring from his hair and nose,
and trickling in streams down his neck.

"I'll make you smart for this, you young blatherskite," he roared
at Jock, who stood before him frozen with horror. "I'll teach you
where you belong! You were running after that rabbit, and your
dog is yelping down a hole after her this minute!" He was such a
funny sight as he knelt there, dripping and scolding, that,
scared as he was, Jock could not help laughing. More than ever