Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life

His lips were thin and dry, with some sort of a brownish crust over them.

‘You’re Cubbage and Hawes and you’re from the fillin’-station on the main road. Right?’

‘What are we playing?’ Claud said. ‘Twenty Questions?’

The keeper spat out a big gob of spit and I saw it go floating through the air and land with a plop on a patch of dry dust six inches from Claud’s feet. It looked like a little baby oyster lying there.

‘Beat it,’ the man said. ‘Go on. Get out.’

Claud sat on the bank smoking his cigarette and looking at the gob of spit.

‘Go on,’ the man said. ‘Get out.’

When he spoke, the upper lip lifted above the gum and I could see a row of small discoloured teeth, one of them black, the others quince and ochre.

‘This happens to be a public highway,’ Claud said. ‘Kindly do not molest us.’

The keeper shifted the gun from his left arm to his right.

‘You’re loiterin’,’ he said, ‘with intent to commit a felony. I could run you in for that.’

‘No you couldn’t,’ Claud said.

All this made me rather nervous.

‘I’ve had my eye on you for some time,’ the keeper said, looking at Claud.

‘It’s getting late,’ I said. ‘Shall we stroll on?’

Claud flipped away his cigarette and got slowly to his feet. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

We wandered off down the lane the way we had come, leaving the keeper standing there, and soon the man was out of sight in the half-darkness behind us.

‘That’s the head keeper,’ Claud said. ‘His name is Rabbetts.’

‘Let’s get the hell out,’ I said.

‘Come in here,’ Claud said.

There was a gate on our left leading into a field and we climbed over it and sat down behind the hedge.

‘Mr Rabbetts is also due for his supper,’ Claud said. ‘You mustn’t worry about him.’

We sat quietly behind the hedge waiting for the keeper to walk past us on his way home. A few stars were showing and a bright three-quarter moon was coming up over the hills behind us in the east.

‘Here he is,’ Claud whispered. ‘Don’t move.’

The keeper came loping softly up the lane with the dog padding quick and soft-footed at his heels, and we watched them through the hedge as they went by.

‘He won’t be coming back tonight,’ Claud said.

‘How do you know that?’

‘A keeper never waits for you in the wood if he knows where you live. He goes to your house and hides outside and watches for you to come back.’

‘That’s worse.’

‘No, it isn’t, not if you dump the loot somewhere else before you go home. He can’t touch you then.’