XXXVII. My Uncle Comes to His Own My Uncle Comes to His Own 299 299 XXXVIII. Last Will and Testament Last Will and Testament 305 305 p. 9Chapter I. Mr. Bradbury p. 9 But for the coach and pair carrying Mr. Bradbury to Chelton, Tony Vining and I would not have been haled before the Squire, but would have got off scot-free as any time before. Tony and I had made the round of our snares. Tony had poked a young rabbit into his jacket-pocket; I was carrying a hare in my bag, and we were sneaking homewards through the dusk, when Tim Kerrick, ash-plant in hand, and brace of keepers at heel, stepped out of the coppice. “What be you lads doin’ here?” Tim demanded, barring our way. “You’re after no good, I’ll warrant. What’s in your bag, John Howe?” I did not stay to answer. I swung round and was away. Tony raced off with me; old Tim and his keepers followed. We led them about the coppice, but they pressed us hard, Tim roaring, “Stop, ye young varmint! Stop! It’ll be all the worse for ye. Stop, I say!” Dreading Tim’s ash-plant, we ran on with p. 10all speed. The hare in the bag hung heavily on me; when we were out in the furze, I let the bag slip from me, and ran more swiftly. I had need, for Tony was now well ahead, and Tim and the keepers were hot at my heels; I could hear Tim’s
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