“So what exactly does your mom do as master of the hounds?” Nancy asked.
“She’s in charge of leading all the horses and riders,” Laura told her. “She makes sure that the riders follow the huntsman without getting too close or interfering with the hounds.”
“How can you be sure that there’s always a fox to chase?” George asked.
“That’s the easy part,” Laura said. “Foxes live all over this countryside in covers—groves of trees or thick hedges. It’s the huntsman’s job to know where these covers are. But if anyone spots a fox before the huntsman does, they call out ‘Tallyho’ to let him know.” Laura mounted Morning Glory, who was prancing about in excitement. Nancy and George mounted their horses, too.
“Hello, Laura,” Grant Hathaway, the huntsman, called over to her. “Where’s your mother? I have to warn her—Mark Plonsky’s here again.”
“Over there,” Laura replied, pointing to her mother on the far side of the pickup. “I’m sure she’ll be interested in that news.”
“Who’s Mark Plonsky?” Nancy asked when the huntsman had turned in Mrs. Passano’s direction.
“He leads some local protesters who are totally opposed to fox hunting.” Laura pointed out a group of about eight people on foot, who were hanging around the edge of the field.
Nancy picked out their leader, a handsome, dark-haired young guy, who was gesturing wildly to his companions and pointing to the hounds. “What’s wrong with that?” she asked.
“Well, they come to the hunts and really stir up trouble,” Laura said. “It’s too bad. Plenty of Mill River riders sympathize with Mark’s commitment to animal rights, but they get turned off by his pushiness. That makes it even harder for my mom to persuade the board to change to a drag hunt. And besides, he’s trespassing, but the police don’t have the manpower to chase the trespassers away during every hunt.”
“What do you mean about his being pushy?” George asked.
“He’s never even tried to meet with the hunt board to discuss his point of view,” Laura said. “He just showed up at the hunt one day and sabotaged it by imitating Mr. Hathaway’s call. He totally confused the hounds. They started following Mark and his buddies instead of the fox’s scent. He could approach us in a civilized way, but he thinks we’re all horrible fox killers. He won’t even talk to us. In fact, I’m not even sure that he knows my mother’s trying to change the hunt to a drag hunt.”
Nancy suspected that if Mark Plonsky did know, it might not change things. He might feel he had to keep the pressure on until the entire board agreed. But she knew this wasn’t the place to argue with Laura. “I bet he drives Mr. Hathaway crazy,” she said.
“That’s for sure!” Laura said, rolling her eyes. “Mr. Hathaway is an old friend of our family’s, but he’s totally opposed to changing Mill River to a drag hunt. Mark really drives him nuts.”
Just then Mr. Hathaway sounded the horn, to signal the beginning of the hunt. As the hounds leaped forward, Nancy felt Hopscotch quiver with anticipation.
Mrs. Passano led the hunt field off at a short distance behind the huntsmen and whippers-in. They trotted, then broke into a canter as they approached a stream beside a grove of trees. The horses splashed across the stream and headed for the trees, as the hounds disappeared down a path ahead.
Quickly, the hounds led the riders through the trees, then paused at the edge of a meadow, sniffing frantically.
“George, look!” Nancy exclaimed softly, pulling up beside her friend. She pointed to a red fox running over the crest of a distant hill.
“Run, fox, run,” George murmured. “Get away!”
“Tallyho!” a voice called out. The hounds raced forward, barking loudly as the fox disappeared over the hill. Mrs. Passano galloped through the meadow, straight toward a rail fence.
Nancy hunched down over Hopscotch’s neck as she, too, galloped across the meadow. Laura streaked past. Morning Glory raised his head, anticipating the jump about twenty yards away.
Suddenly, Mr. Hathaway, Mrs. Passano, and the riders close behind them veered to the side.
“Stop!” Mrs. Passano shouted. “Don’t jump! Barbed wire!”
Across the top of the fence ahead, someone had strung barbed wire. Its sharp points glinted menacingly in the bright autumn sunshine.
Nancy instantly pulled on the reins and sat deep in the saddle. Any horse that jumped over the barbed wire was sure to be seriously injured!
4
A Well-Dressed Fox
The horse ahead of Nancy kicked and slid. Hopscotch reared back, and Nancy was nearly thrown. She clutched wildly at Hopscotch’s mane, hanging on desperately. Using all her strength, she regained her balance as the mare’s front hooves thumped down.
Pulling the mare sharply to the right, Nancy steered her to a safe place alongside the fence.
As she soothed the skittish mare, Nancy studied the fence. The thin wire with its pointed barbs had been wound around the top of the fence posts and run along the top of the rail. Why would someone do such a thing?
Suddenly, she heard Laura gasp behind her. Turning around, Nancy saw George pulling on Lancelot’s right reins, trying to steer him away from the fence. As Lancelot wheeled to the right, George lost her balance and fell off. Luckily, she landed a few feet away from his hooves.
The horse thundered off across the field. George stood up and brushed herself off.
“Are you okay, George?” Nancy asked, riding over.
“I’ll live,” George said dryly. “Unless I die of embarrassment first.”
“Don’t be silly,” Laura said. “Every good rider takes a tumble now and then. Otherwise, you’re not challenging yourself.”
George laughed. “Well, the next challenge will be finding Lancelot. Did you see where he went?”
“Mr. Zachary, that man over there, caught him,” Laura said. She pointed to a disgruntled-looking older man on a gray horse who was slowly heading toward them, holding on to Lancelot’s reins.
Nancy and Laura watched as George retrieved Lancelot from Mr. Zachary. As George tried to mount the horse again, Lancelot danced away from her, tossing his head and snorting. Mr. Zachary dismounted, gave his reins to another rider nearby, and helped George settle the horse. Then he gave George a leg up before he remounted.
After chatting with Mr. Zachary for a moment, George returned to Nancy and Laura. “Whew!” George said, shaking her head. “That guy sure has it in for the animal activists. He’s saying they sabotaged this jump. He also said he’s sure the chopped-down tree in the woods last week was Plonsky’s work.”
“He could be right,” Laura declared.
