When the farmer and his sons had examined Oscar's prize to their satisfaction, and had told some remarkable stories of the skill he had exhibited in eluding his former pursuers, Mr. Bacon led the way toward the house.
His wife was loud in her praises, and made Oscar laugh by declaring that she "knowed that there fox was gone up when she heard that him and Bugle was goin' to get after him."
Having performed his ablutions, Oscar was shown to a seat at the table, which fairly groaned under the weight of the good things that were piled upon it.
Mrs. Bacon was sorry she hadn't something better to offer the successful sportsman, but Oscar could see no necessity for any apologies. It was not a "picked-up" dinner, if it was washing-day. He thought the farmer must have an idea that fox-hunters were blessed with more than ordinary appetites, for the plate that was passed over to him was filled so full that not another thing could have been placed upon it.
The meal was enlivened with conversation on various topics, and when it was finished, and the farmer had smoked his after-dinner pipe, Oscar picked up his fox and gun, thanked Mrs. Bacon for the good dinner she had given him, and accompanied the three men to the field. There he took leave of them and struck out across the hills toward home.
He was in no hurry now, so he walked along very leisurely, and picked up quite a respectable bag of game on the way. Bugle drove three hares around to him, and twice as many grouse fell to his double-barrel.
At length, when the increasing gloom of the woods told him that the day was drawing to a close, Oscar tied his game together in a bunch with a strong cord he always carried in his game-bag for that purpose, called Bugle to him, and set out at a brisk walk.
As he was working his way through a dense thicket on Mr. Parker's hill-farm, he came suddenly upon two boys, who, just as he appeared in sight, disappeared, dropped a bundle of something behind a log and took to their heels. One of them glanced over his shoulder as he ran, and finally halted and faced about.
"Don't be afraid, Jeff," he shouted to his retreating companion; "it's nobody but Oscar Preston."