That young gentleman, however, was
supremely unconscious of any shortcomings, and burst into the hall,
tired, and less sprucely groomed than usual, but distinctly radiant.
His game-bag looked comfortably full.
"Guess what I have shot," he demanded.
"Pheasants, woodpigeons, rabbits," hazarded Norah.
"No; a large beast; I don't know what you call it in English.
Brown, with a darkish tail." Norah changed colour.
"Does it live in a tree and eat nuts?" she asked, hoping that the
use of the adjective "large" might be an exaggeration.
Vladimir laughed.
"Oh no; not a biyelka."
"Does it swim and eat fish?" asked Norah, with a fervent prayer in
her heart that it might turn out to be an otter.
"No," said Vladimir, busy with the straps of his game-bag; "it lives
in the woods, and eats rabbits and chickens."
Norah sat down suddenly, and hid her face in her hands.
"Merciful Heaven!" she wailed; "he's shot a fox!"
Vladimir looked up at her in consternation. In a torrent of
agitated words she tried to explain the horror of the situation.
The boy understood nothing, but was thoroughly alarmed.
"Hide it, hide it!" said Norah frantically, pointing to the still
unopened bag. "My aunt and the Major will be here in a moment.
Throw it on the top of that chest; they won't see it there."
Vladimir swung the bag with fair aim; but the strap caught in its
flight on the outstanding point of an antler fixed in the wall, and
the bag, with its terrible burden, remained suspended just above the
alcove where tea would presently be laid.
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