He took away his other Percheron colt; and during the day all the other persons who had colts up there took their animals home.

In all respects the occurrence was most disagreeable--a truly black Monday with us.

The old Squire said little, except that he wanted the right thing done.
For an hour or more after we went to bed that night Addison and I lay talking about the affair, but we could think of no explanation of the strange occurrence and at last fell asleep.

The next morning, however, the solution of the mystery flashed into Addison's mind.

As we were dressing at five o'clock, he suddenly turned to me and exclaimed in a queer voice: "I know what killed those colts!" "What ?" I asked.
"That fox bed!" For a whole minute we stood there, half dressed, looking at each other in consternation.