The interior was cosier
than the outward aspect promised, and finding a quantity of clean
hay at one end, I stripped off my coat, set down my knapsack for a
pillow, and, rolling myself in the hay, was soon fast asleep.
I was roused while it was still dark by the sound of voices. Being
wide awake in an instant, I had sufficient presence of mind to
avoid betraying my whereabouts by a rustling among the hay, and lay
and listened, wondering who the intruders might be, and fearing
lest they should approach my end of the barn to seek a couch for
the remainder of the night. But they made no movement in my
direction, and before many minutes had passed I understood by their
voices that they were three, and gathered from their talk that they
were poachers who had been plying their stealthy trade in the
coverts of a neighboring park, and had turned into the barn, which
they evidently knew well, for a brief rest before making for their
homes at Bridgenorth.
I hoped that they would leave before daylight, without discovering
me; but just as the sparrows on the roof were twittering a greeting
to the dawn, as ill luck would have it, one of the men spied my
coat, spread on staddles against the wall to dry. He uttered a
sharp exclamation, and called to his comrades. I heard them come in
my direction, and guessed by their silence that they were looking
warily around for the owner of the coat. But they did not see me,
being completely covered by the hay; and, remarking that it looked
a "rare good coat," one of them put his hand into all the pockets
in turn, and from the inner one fetched out Cludde's crown piece.
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