"Where are they going to start the fox? Don't you let the dogs—"
"Oh!" with a long intonation of comprehension, "why, we've got the fox with us; first catch your fox, you know—"
"Who—where?"
"Why, Mr. Payne has him. Every boy in the county knows he will pay a big price for a fox. They have their traps out and when they catch one they bring it in to him, and then—" a comprehensive wave of her hand finished the sentence.
"The dogs—" began Lawson, still unenlightened.
"Oh they put the dogs up in the stables, don't you see? Watch them!" she turned in the trap seat and Lawson wheeled his horse.
A boy stood guard at the stable door. One by one their masters were coaxing and coercing the dogs inside. Their calls echoed all over the field. "Here, Dixie!" "Here, Duke!" and now and then an impatient master wound his horn to call his dogs to his feet, whereat every dog inside the big echoing stable went fairly mad with barking.
"H-e-r-e, M-u-s-i-c!" "H-e-r-e, S-a-l!" Two frisky dogs were careering down the hillside, their masters in wild pursuit.
"There they go, the two worst dogs in the county!" cried Frances impatiently.