{"product_id":"2940013677807","title":"Midwinter","description":"The road which had begun as a rutted cart-track sank presently to a\u003cbr\u003egrassy footpath among scrub oaks, and as the boughs whipped his\u003cbr\u003eface the young man cried out impatiently and pulled up his horse to\u003cbr\u003econsider.  He was on a journey where secrecy was not less vital\u003cbr\u003ethan speed, and he was finding the two incompatible.  That morning\u003cbr\u003ehe had avoided Banbury and the high road which followed the crown\u003cbr\u003eof Cotswold to the young streams of Thames, for that way lay\u003cbr\u003eBeaufort's country, and at such a time there would be jealous\u003cbr\u003etongues to question passengers.  For the same reason he had left\u003cbr\u003ethe main Oxford road on his right, since the channel between Oxford\u003cbr\u003eand the North might well be troublesome, even for a respectable\u003cbr\u003etraveller who called himself Mr Andrew Watson, and was ready with a\u003cbr\u003elegend of a sea-coal business in Newcastle.  But his circumspection\u003cbr\u003eseemed to have taken him too far on an easterly course into a land\u003cbr\u003eof tangled forests.  He pulled out his chart of the journey and\u003cbr\u003estudied it with puzzled eyes.  My Lord Cornbury's house could not\u003cbr\u003ebe twenty miles distant, but what if the twenty miles were\u003cbr\u003epathless?  An October gale was tossing the boughs and whirling the\u003cbr\u003edead bracken, and a cold rain was beginning.  Ill weather was\u003cbr\u003enothing to one nourished among Hebridean north-westers, but he\u003cbr\u003ecursed a land in which there were no landmarks.  A hill-top, a\u003cbr\u003eglimpse of sea or loch, even a stone on a ridge, were things a man\u003cbr\u003ecould steer by, but what was he to do in this unfeatured woodland?\u003cbr\u003eThese soft south-country folk stuck to their roads, and the roads\u003cbr\u003ewere forbidden him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA little further and the track died away in a thicket of hazels.\u003cbr\u003eHe drove his horse through the scrub and came out on a glade, where\u003cbr\u003ethe ground sloped steeply to a jungle of willows, beyond which he\u003cbr\u003ehad a glimpse through the drizzle of a grey-green fen.  Clearly\u003cbr\u003ethat was not his direction, and he turned sharply to the right\u003cbr\u003ealong the edge of the declivity.  Once more he was in the covert,\u003cbr\u003eand his ill-temper grew with every briar that whipped his face.\u003cbr\u003eSuddenly he halted, for he heard the sound of speech.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt came from just in front of him--a voice speaking loud and angry,\u003cbr\u003eand now and then a squeal like a scared animal's.  An affair\u003cbr\u003ebetween some forester and a poaching hind, he concluded, and would\u003cbr\u003efain have turned aside.  But the thicket on each hand was\u003cbr\u003eimpenetrable, and, moreover, he earnestly desired advice about the\u003cbr\u003eroad.  He was hesitating in his mind, when the cries broke out\u003cbr\u003eagain, so sharp with pain that instinctively he pushed forward.\u003cbr\u003eThe undergrowth blocked his horse, so he dismounted and, with a\u003cbr\u003ehand fending his eyes, made a halter of the bridle and dragged the\u003cbr\u003eanimal after him.  He came out into a little dell down which a path\u003cbr\u003eran, and confronted two human beings.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey did not see him, being intent on their own business.  One was\u003cbr\u003ea burly fellow in a bottle-green coat, a red waistcoat and corduroy\u003cbr\u003esmall clothes, from whose gap-toothed mouth issued volleys of\u003cbr\u003eabuse.  In his clutches was a slim boy in his early teens, a dark\u003cbr\u003esallow slip of a lad, clad in nothing but a shirt and short leather\u003cbr\u003ebreeches.  The man had laid his gun on the ground, and had his knee\u003cbr\u003ein the small of the child's back, while he was viciously twisting\u003cbr\u003eone arm so that his victim cried like a rabbit in the grip of a\u003cbr\u003eweasel.  The barbarity of it undid the traveller's discretion.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Hold there,\" he cried, and took a pace forward.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe man turned his face, saw a figure which he recognised as a\u003cbr\u003egentleman, and took his knee from the boy's back, though he still\u003cbr\u003ekept a clutch on his arm.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Sarvant, sir,\" he said, touching his hat with his free hand.\u003cbr\u003e\"What might 'ee be wanting o' Tom Heather?\"  His voice was civil,\u003cbr\u003ebut his face was ugly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Let the lad go.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Sir Edward's orders, sir--that's Sir Edward Turner, Baronet, of\u003cbr\u003eAmbrosden House in this 'ere shire, 'im I 'as the honour to serve.\u003cbr\u003eSir Edward 'e says, 'Tom,' 'e says, 'if 'ee finds a poacher in the\u003cbr\u003eNew Woods 'ee knows what to do with 'im without troubling me'; and\u003cbr\u003eI reckon I does know.  Them moor-men is the worst varmints in the\u003cbr\u003ecountry, and the youngest is the black-heartedest, like foxes.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe grip had relaxed and the boy gave a twist which freed him.\u003cbr\u003eInstantly he dived into the scrub.  The keeper made a bound after\u003cbr\u003ehim, thought better of it and stood sullenly regarding the\u003cbr\u003etraveller.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I've been a-laying for the misbegotten slip them five weeks, and\u003cbr\u003enow I loses him, and all along of 'ee, sir.\"  His tones suggested\u003cbr\u003ethat silver might be a reasonable compensation.","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47182591197424,"sku":"2940013677807","price":2.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013677807_p0.jpg?v=1763584157","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013677807","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}