of the fox which Bean had clutched by the two hind legs.  Poor Tony Tuppett almost shed tears as he looked at the dead animal, and thought what might have been the fate of the pack.  “It’s him, my lord,” he said, “as we run through Littleton gorse Monday after Christmas last, and up to Impington Park where he got away from us in a hollow tree.  He’s four year old,” added Tony, looking at the animal’s mouth, “and there warn’t a finer dog fox in the county.”

“Do they know all the foxes?” asked the Senator.  In answer to this, Morton only shook his head, not feeling quite sure himself how far a huntsman’s acquaintance in that line might go, and being also too much impressed by the occasion for speculative conversation.

“It’s that scoundrel Goarly” had been repeated again and again; and then on a sudden Goarly himself was seen standing on the further hedge of Larry’s field with a gun in his hand.  He was not at this time above two hundred yards from them, and was declared by one of the young farmers to be grinning with delight.  The next field was Goarly’s, but the hedge and ditch belonged to Twentyman.  Larry rushed forward as though determined to thrash the man, and two or three followed him.  But Lord Rufford galloped on and stopped them.  “Don’t get into a row with a fellow like that,” he said to Twentyman.

“He’s on my land, my lord,” said Larry impatiently.

“I’m on my own now, and let me see who’ll dare to touch me,” said Goarly jumping down.

“You’ve put poison down in that wood,” said Larry.

“No I didn’t; but I knows who did.  It ain’t I as am afeard for my young turkeys” Now it was well known that old Mrs. Twentyman, Larry’s mother, was fond of young turkeys, and that her poultry-yard had suffered.  Larry, in his determination to be a gentleman, had always laughed at his mother’s losses.  But now to be accused in this way was terrible to his feelings!  He made a rush as though to jump over the hedge, but Lord Rufford again intercepted him.  “I didn’t think, Mr. Twentyman, that you’d care for what such a fellow as that might say.”  By this time Lord Rufford was off his horse, and had taken hold of Larry.

“I’ll tell you all what it is,” screamed Goarly, standing just at the edge of his own field,—­“if a hound comes out of the wood on to my land, I’ll shoot him.  I don’t know nothing about p’isoning, though I dare say Mr. Twentyman does.  But if a hound comes on my land, I’ll shoot him,—­open, before you all” There was, however, no danger of such a threat being executed on this day, as of course no hound would be allowed to go into Dillsborough Wood.