"Of course such a thing may
happen anywhere. They had foxes poisoned in the Pytchley last
year."
"It shows a d-- bad feeling somewhere," said the Master.
"We know very well where the feeling is," said Bean who had by this
time taken up the fox, determined not to allow it to pass into any
hands less careful than his own.
"It's that scoundrel, Goarly," said one of the Botseys. Then there
was an indignant murmur heard, first of all from two or three and
then running among the whole crowd. Everybody knew as well as
though he had seen it that Goarly had baited meat with strychnine
and put it down in the wood. "Might have pi'soned half the pack!"
said Tony Tuppett, who had come up on foot from the barn where
the hounds were still imprisoned, and had caught hold in an
affectionate manner of a fore pad 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.
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