“Well, just about then the old dog let out behind them, and they whirled around. And father always used to say that, mad as they were at each other, they forgot all about it then; and they bust out laughing. He said you couldn’t blame them. He said you never saw anything funnier.
“You see, that fox was just stunned. The cold snow must have revived him. Because when my father and Uncle Jim looked around, that skinless fox was going up over the hill like a cat up a tree—and the old dog hot on his heels.”
The store rocked with their mirth as Westley stopped. Lee Motley roared, and the Saladines laughed in their silent fashion, and Will Bissell chuckled discreetly behind Proutt’s back. Westley himself displayed such surprise at their mirth that they laughed the more; and fat little Jean Bubier shook a finger at Proutt and cried:
“And that will put the bee to your Dan, M’sieu Proutt. That will hold your Dan for one leetle while, I t’ink.”
Proutt himself was brick-red with fury; and his eyes were black on Westley; but he pulled himself together, and he laughed ... shortly.
His eyes did not leave Westley’s face. And Lee Motley found a chance to warn the warden a little later. “It was a good joke,” he said. “You handed it to him right. But look out for the man, Westley. He’s mad.”
Westley, still smiling, was nevertheless faintly troubled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I did it for a joke.”
“He can’t take a joke,” said Motley.
The warden nodded, considering. “I’ll tell you,” he told Motley. “I’ll square it with him.”
“If it was me,” Motley agreed, “I would.”