has waited two, three weeks, and not one yellow fox not
anywhere, and it is for the variety of the skin in a--a--I do not know
what you call it."

"A rug, I suppose," said Charlie.

I subsequently heard that Charlie went to his post with a fixed
determination to shoot anything of yellow colour that came near him. His
station was next to that of Dr. Krumm; but of course they were invisible
to each other. The horns of the beaters sounded a warning; the gunners
cocked their guns and stood on the alert; in the perfect silence each
one waited for the first glimmer of a brown hide down the long green
glades of young fir. Then, according to Charlie's account, by went two
or three deer like lightning--all of them does. A buck came last, but
swerved just as he came in sight, and backed and made straight for the
line of beaters. Two more does, and then an absolute blank. One or two
shots had been heard at a distance; either some of the more distant
stations had been more fortunate, or one or other of the beaters had
tried his luck. Suddenly there was a shot fired close to Charlie; he
knew it must have been the doctor. In about a minute afterward he saw
some pale-yellow object slowly worming its way through the ferns; and
here, at length, he made sure he was going to get his yellow fox. But
just as the animal came within fair distance, it turned over, made a
struggle or two, and lay still. Charlie rushed along to the spot:
it was, indeed, a yellow fox, shot in the head, and now as dead as a
door-nail.

What was he to do? Let Dr. Krumm take home this prize to Franziska,
after he had had such a chance in the afternoon? Never! Charlie fired
a barrel into the air, and then calmly awaited the coming up of the
beaters and the drawing together of the sportsmen.

Dr. Krumm, being at the next station, was the first to arrive. He found
Charlie standing by the side of the slain fox.

"Ha!" he said, his spectacles fairly gleaming with delight, "you have
shotted him! You have killed him! That is very good--that is excellent!
Now you will present the skin to Miss Franziska, if you do not wish to
take it to England."

"Oh no!" said Charlie, with a lordly indifference. "I don't care about
it. Franziska may have it."

Charlie pulled me aside, and said, with a solemn wink:

"Can you keep a secret?"

"My wife and I can keep a secret. I am not allowed to have any for
myself."

"Listen," said the unabashed young man; "Krumm shot that fox