But the
strangers, especially those who had hired horses, would not hear of
this; and after considerable delay it was arranged that the hounds
should be trotted off as quickly as possible to Impington Gorse,
which was on the other side of Impington Park, and fully five miles
distant. And so they started, leaving the dead fox in the hands of
Bean the gamekeeper.
"Is this the sort of thing that occurs every day?" asked the
Senator as he got back into the carriage.
"I should fancy not," answered Morton. "Somebody has poisoned a
fox, and I don't think that that is very often done about here."
"Why did he poison him?"
"To save his fowls I suppose."
"Why shouldn't he poison him if the fox takes his fowls? Fowls are
better than foxes."
"Not in this country," said Morton.
"Then I'm very glad I don't live here," said Mr. Gotobed. "These
friends of yours are dressed very nicely and look very well,--but a
fox is a nasty animal. It was that man standing up on the bank;--
wasn't it?" continued the Senator, who was determined to understand
it all to the very bottom, in reference to certain lectures which
he intended to give on his return to the States,--and perhaps also
in the old country before he left it.
"They suspect him."
"That man with the gun! One man against two hundred! Now I respect
that man;--I do with all my heart.
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