CHAPTER XLIV 



WHAT BECOMES OF THE FOXES ? 



"What becomes of the foxes?" is a question 

 which must frequently obtrude itself upon the 

 hunting man as he jogs home after a hard day. 

 Of course, we know very well what becomes of 

 some of them. Our friends (?) in velveteen are 

 occasionally, let us say, accountable for the 

 disappearance of some of them ; a cantankerous or 

 ill-conditioned owner or occupier of land, who 

 insists on " doing what he likes with his own," could 

 probably tell us what becomes of others of the 

 family. A sentimentalist, mayhap, gives an odd 

 member of it the happy despatch by means of a 

 powerful irritant poison to save him from the 

 torture (?) of being hunted. We all know that 

 there are few countries where foxes are not occa- 

 sionally put down in an illegitimate manner ; and, 

 of course, we all know how the cubs are killed in 

 the autumn, and how from November to March 

 the huntsman is keen in his endeavours to get 

 " plenty of blood " for his favourites. The noses 

 on the kennel door tell what has become of a goodly 

 number of the vulpine race ; mysterious nods and 

 whispers of the " I could an I would " kind tell 

 how a few are disposed of. 



But what I want to know is, what becomes of 



