“Good gracious!” exclaimed Agnes. “These children have to be explained to every minute. I hope that fox skin has no disease, Sammy.”
Luke and Ruth and Cecile had gone for a tramp through the wood. The little folks set to work building a snow man which was to be of wondrous proportions when completed. Naturally Neale and Agnes kept together.
Agnes had been wandering along the edge of the wood in front of the house while Neale carried the fox indoors. Tom Jonah came back with Neale and began snuffing about the spot where the fox had laid.
“See here, Neale O’Neil,” cried Agnes, “I can’t find anybody’s footprints over here. Where do you suppose that man shot the fox from?”
“Humph!” grunted Neale noncommittally.
“But here’s just the cunningest hoofprints! See them!” cried Agnes.
The boy joined her. Two rows of marks made by split-hoofed animals ran along the edge of the wood.
“Crackey!” ejaculated the boy. “Those are deer.”
“You don’t mean it?”
“Must be. Red deer, I bet. And right close to the Lodge! How tame these creatures are.”