It was as though some special friend of the U.R.U.had died that morning, and that the spirits of the sportsmen were too dejected for their sport.

Others, with prudent foresight, suggested that the hounds might run back from some distant covert to Dillsborough, and that there should be no hunting till the wood had been thoroughly searched.

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.