_us_? It's the keeper."

"He's cracked," said Beetle, miserably, as they followed. Indeed, this
was a new Turkey--a haughty, angular, nose-lifted Turkey--whom they
accompanied through a shrubbery on to a lawn, where a white-whiskered
old gentleman with a cleek was alternately putting and blaspheming
vigorously.

"Are you Colonel Dabney?" McTurk began in this new creaking voice of
his.

"I--I am, and--" his eyes traveled up and down the boy--"who--what the
devil d'you want? Ye've been disturbing my pheasants. Don't attempt to
deny it. Ye needn't laugh at it." (McTurk's not too lovely features had
twisted themselves into a horrible sneer at the word pheasant.) "You've
been birds'-nesting. You needn't hide your hat. I can see that you
belong to the College. Don't attempt to deny it. Ye do! Your name
and number at once, sir. Ye want to speak to me--Eh? You saw my
notice-boards? Must have. Don't attempt to deny it. Ye did! Damnable, oh
damnable!"

He choked with emotion. McTurk's heel tapped the lawn and he stuttered a
little--two sure signs that he was losing his temper. But why should he,
the offender, be angry?

"Lo-look here, sir. Do--do you shoot foxes? Because, if you don't, your
keeper does. We've seen him! I do-don't care what you call us--but it's
an awful thing. It's the ruin of good feelin' among neighbors. A ma-man
ought to say once and for all how he stands about preservin'. It's
worse than murder, because there's no legal remedy." McTurk was quoting
confusedly from his father, while the old gentleman made noises in his
throat.

"Do you know who I am?" he gurgled at last; Stalky and Beetle quaking.

"No, sorr, nor do I care if ye belonged to the Castle itself. Answer me
now, as one gentleman to another. Do ye shoot foxes or do ye not?"

And four years before Stalky and Beetle had carefully kicked McTurk out
of his Irish dialect! Assuredly he had gone mad or taken a sunstroke,
and as assuredly he would be slain--once by the old gentleman and once
by the Head. A public licking for the throe was the least they could
expect. Yet--if their eyes and ears were to be trusted--the old
gentleman had collapsed. It might be a lull before the storm, but--

"I do not." He was still gurgling.

"Then you must sack your keeper. He's not fit to live in the same county
with a God-fearin' fox. An' a vixen, too--at this time o' year!"

"Did ye come up on purpose to tell me this?"

"Of course I did, ye silly man," with