"Hale and hearty
he is, and ninety-six years of age."
By common consent both now paused to listen for Fleetfoot. Hearing
nothing Humphrey continued, "Didst ever see a tame badger?"
"Nay," was the reply.
"A badger becometh as tame as a dog, if he be taken young. Report hath
it that there is great sport in London at the public houses baiting the
badger. I know not how it may be."
And now Fleetfoot came. Not joyfully, but slinking, for he knew he had
been doing wrong. Three partridges, a fox, and a badger he had slain
since Humphrey had seen him, and he wore a guilty look.
"Thou wilt do no more than tie him with the willow thong," observed
Humphrey, eyeing Fleetfoot with disfavor. "Were he mine, I should beat
him. The king maketh nothing of lopping off a man's hand or foot for
such a trespass, or even putting out of his eyes. And should the
keepers discover what he hath done, it were all the same as if we had
done it."
"Nay, Humphrey," said Hugo, smoothing the dog's head. "Perchance he
hath taken no more than the partridge thou sawest."
For answer Humphrey struck lightly the dog's rounded-out side.
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