"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.