Godfrey did not know what to do; it was too big and strong to kill with Juliette's little stick, so he tried to batter it to death with the stock of the gun, but without success, and at last withdrew, looking at it horrified.
"What shall I do ?" he asked faintly of Juliette.
"Load the gun and shoot it again," replied that practical young woman.
So with some mistakes, for the emergency made him nervous, such as the dropping of the cap among the pine needles, he obeyed.

At last the poor beast lay dead, a very disagreeable spectacle, with the cur-dog that had arrived, biting joyously at its quivering form.
Godfrey put down the gun and retired behind a tree, whence presently he emerged, looking very pale, for to tell the truth, he had been ill.
"I do not think I like shooting foxes," he said.
"How strange you are," answered Juliette.

"Quite unlike other men.

Now my Cousin Jules, there is nothing that he loves better.

Go now and cut off his tail, to hang upon the wall.