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Thursday, April 13, 2006
Fox Hunt
And once when we were walking on Bredon Hill, we met a
bedraggled and exhausted fox. ‘Oh, poor thing,’ Jack said. ‘What shall
we do when the hunt comes up? I can already hear them. Oh, I know—I
have an idea.’ He cupped his hands and shouted to the first riders,
“Hallo, yoicks, gone that way,” and pointed in the direction opposite
to the one the fox had taken. The whole hunt followed his directions.
There followed a long discussion about when lying was morally
justifiable, but he boasted delightedly later to my wife that he had
saved the life of a poor fox and showed no trace of guilt.
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