Sabine Baring-Gould

“ There were thirteen poachers, and all strong, desperate men. They turned to break their way through. The moon was shining. Long Jaques was face to face with Mullins, and the moon was on Mullins’ face.
Jaques uttered a curse. ‘It’s you, you dog, who made me smother my kid!’ he said; put his gun to his mouth and shot him dead. Then he made a leap to pass the man as he fell, and in another moment would have got into the coppice and have escaped, had not Dicky Duck been too alert for him. In an instant he was after him, gave a leap, was on the poacher’s back, clung, and would not be shaken off. ”

“ It created a sensation both because one man was shot dead in it, and also because the man who killed the other was caught and carried to gaol, and that man was Long Jaques. He who was killed was Mullins the woodman, and he who revenged his death by catching the murderer was little Dicky Duck.
If the man shot had been a poacher, what an outcry would have been made!—what commiseration, what political capital would have been made out of his murder! But as the man shot was only a fellow acting for the nonce as a keeper, there was not much fuss made about him. ”

“ The gang followed the navvies, and its components were men who never willingly did a bit of honest work—scorned the hard toil to which the navvy bowed his back. They lived by night sport, and let the navvies bear the blame of their misdeeds. Sometimes—so bold did these gangs become—they sent warning beforehand to the head-gamekeeper of my Lord or of Squire Acres, to say that they were going to visit his covers. Then the keepers had to consider whether they would muster a large force and go out against them, or keep close and let them do their worst. ”