"Warmth is poison to the King, and every ray of
light is twisted and turned upside down to see if he has any in his
pocket."
They could now hear a loud baying on the hill above.
As they turned to listen, a young fox leaped in at the hole and, as
he saw them, checked a foot in the air. He was panting, his tongue
out, and blood was dripping from his long fur at the shoulder. He
turned, stilling his breath a little as the hounds came near. Then
he trembled,--a pitiful sight,--for he was near spent and between
two perils.
"Come--poor fellow!" said the teacher, stroking him gently.
The fox ran aside, shaking with fear, his foot lifted appealingly.
With a quick movement the teacher caught him by the nape of his
neck and thrust him into the sack. The leader now had his nose in
the hole.
"Back there!" Trove shouted, kicking at him.
In a moment he had rolled a heavy stone to the hole and made it too
small for the hounds to enter. Half a dozen of them were now
baying outside.
"We'll give him air," said the teacher, as he cut a hole in the
sack and tied it. "Don't know how we'll get him out of here alive.
They'd be all over me like a pack of wolves."
He stood a moment thinking.
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