Having said which, Stentor nodded to his gun again, glanced at
Barnabas again, and strode off, muttering, after his companion.
Hereupon Barnabas once more opened his book; yet he was quite aware
that the fugitive had thrust his head out of the ditch, and having
glanced swiftly about, was now regarding him out of the corners of
his eyes.
"Why do you stare at me?" he demanded suddenly.
"I was wondering why you took the trouble and risk of shielding such
a thing as I am," answered the fugitive.
"Hum!" said Barnabas, "upon my soul,--I don't know."
"No," said the man, with the ghostly smile upon his lips again,
"I thought not."
Now, as he looked at the man, Barnabas saw that his cheeks, beneath
their stubble, were hollow and pinched, as though by the cruel hands
of want and suffering. And yet in despite of all this and of the
grizzled hair at his temples, the face was not old, moreover there
was a merry twinkle in the eye, and a humorous curve to the
wide-lipped mouth that appealed to Barnabas.
"And you are a poacher, you say?"
"Yes, sir, and that is bad, I confess, but, what is worse, I was,
until I took to poaching, an honest man without a shred of character."
"How so?"
"I was discharged--under a cloud that was never dispelled."
"To be sure, you don't look like an ordinary poacher."
"That is because I am an extraordinary one."
"You mean?"
"That I poach that I may live to--poach again, sir. I am, at once, a
necessitous poacher, and a poacher by necessity."
"And what by choice?"
"A gentleman, sir, with plenty of money and no ambitions."
"Why deny ambition?"
"Because I would live a quiet life, and who ever heard of an
ambitious man ever being quiet, much less happy and contented?"
"Hum!" said Barnabas, "and what were you by profession?"
"My calling, sir, was to work for, think for, and shoulder the blame
for others--generally fools, sir. I was a confidential servant, a
valet, sir. And I have worked, thought, and taken the blame for
others so very successfully, that I must needs take to poaching that
I may live."
"But--other men may require valets!"
"True, sir, and there are plenty of valets to be had--of a sort; but
the most accomplished one in the world, if without a character, had
better go and hang himself out of the way, and have done with it.
And indeed, I have seriously contemplated so doing."
"You rate yourself very highly."
"And I go in rags! Though a professed thief may do well in the world,
though the blackest rascal, the slyest rogue, may thrive and prosper,
the greatest of valets being without a character, may go in rags and
starve--and very probably will."