"especially when one shoots and keeps harriers."

"They are that, sir," said Giles to the Red-faced Man, "as only those
know what has to do with them."

"Put the other in, Giles," said the Red-faced man, "and when you have
time, throw some soil on to the top of the lot. This place smells
horrible. And look you here, Giles," he added in a voice of thunder, "if
ever I find you killing a fox upon this property, you will be dismissed
at once, as I have often told you before. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Squire, I understand," answered Giles, "and I'll see to the
burying of them this same afternoon, if the pain in my hand will suffer
it."

"Very well," said the Red-faced Man, "that's done with--except the cubs.
As you have killed the vixen you had better stink the cubs out of the
earth. I daresay they are old enough to look after themselves--at any
rate I hope so. And now, Giles, we must shoot some of these hares when
we begin on the partridges next week. There are too many of them, the
tenants are complaining, ungrateful beggars as they are, seeing that I
keep them for their sport."

At this point I thought that I had heard enough, and slipped away when
their backs were turned. For, friend Mahatma, I had just seen a fox
shot, and now I knew what shooting meant.

*****

About a week later I knew better still. It came about thus. By that