“I wonder where it will end,” returned Mark, joining the huntsman’s side by the door.
“Who can tell?” rejoined Will, bitterly. “We may lose half of ’em, perhaps.”
“I noticed that he looked rather heavy about the eyes, for a day or two,” added the feeder, “but I accounted for it through the heat.”
“It was only yesterday,” said Will, “that I gave him a dose of black brimstone and lard, seeing that he was feverish.”
“It was a mercy no accident occurred to ye,” responded Mark. “A mere scratch from a tooth would have——”
“What’s this?” interrupted a well-known voice, and there stood our master, breathless and exhausted with the speed he had used in attending the summons to the fearful scene.
“Gameboy, sir,” replied Will, pointing to the convulsive and agonized hound, “is mad beyond a doubt.”
“Are there any more with such symptoms?” hurriedly asked the squire, scrutinizing the object of their painful attention and interest.
“We have not had time for a careful examination, sir,” returned the huntsman; “but I saw none as we hastily separated them.”
“You have acted well,” said the Squire, “and we must continue the same prompt and sound judgment. Shoot that hound instantly.”