The hounds were upon her. She did not seem to hear or see them, and the huntsman, without a word, seized hold of her and lifted her up on his saddle. It was all the work of a moment: the hounds were through the open window, and poor Reynard met his fate, but Christina was struggling passionately in the huntsman's arms.
She did not heed the crowd of people round her. The fate of the poor fox was more to her than anything else.
"I hate you all!" she exclaimed when she was put down on the ground. "You are murderers!"
And then she fled into the house, still sobbing as if her heart would break.
Miss Loder could not understand what had happened. It was a long time before the excited child could be soothed.
"Oh," she cried, "why does God let people be so cruel? Why can't they be punished? The poor tired little fox! Oh, Miss Loder, how could they let him be killed by those cruel dogs! I tried to save him, and I couldn't! They snatched me away!"
Half an hour later Puggy came in with a grin upon his face.
"You're a nice one!" he said to the tearful Christina. "The cheek of you, trying to spoil our sport! How dared you do it! You pretend you're so frightened of everything. Why, those hounds might have torn you in pieces, they were so wild to get past you!"
"I don't care!" sobbed Christina. "It was wicked to kill the fox!"
"Yes, Miss Loder, she stood up and stayed the whole hunt; she told them she hated them, and that they were murderers! She did make a silly of herself, I can tell you! My sister was awfully astonished. I expect you're in for a scolding, Tina!"