“He’ll be fine,” Laura assured her.
Morning Glory’s flank was quivering where he’d been stung, but otherwise, Nancy noticed, he was calm. She was amazed at how steady he was.
“Why don’t the police just haul Plonsky away?” Nancy heard a young man say. “He’s endangering people’s lives, and he’s trespassing!” Many riders nodded, and a couple of loud shouts of agreement rang through the hunt crowd.
Nancy dismounted and handed Hopscotch’s reins to Laura. Then she walked up to the stuffed fox in the clearing and leaned over to examine it. It was human-size, stuffed with straw, and stuck on a pole. Nancy could see why the riders would blame the animal activists for putting it there. The fox’s hunting outfit was an obvious reference to their cause.
As Nancy inspected the fox’s clothes, she noticed that all the tags had been cut out. No clues there, she thought. She searched around on the ground but found nothing except a few bits of straw.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, Nancy noticed something brown a short distance away. A dead leaf? she wondered. Walking over and bending down, she saw a brown leather glove.
Nancy picked it up and looked it over. It had a Velcro closure at the wrist. Inside was a tag: Marburg’s Saddlery Shop. No size was printed on the tag. Nancy judged that the glove could fit either a man or a woman, though not a large man.
Nancy searched around for the other glove but didn’t find it. This glove was probably dropped by the person who had set up the stuffed fox, Nancy guessed. Slipping the glove into her pocket, she felt excited. Finally—a clue!
Nancy quickly returned to Hopscotch. After taking the reins from Laura, she remounted the horse.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mrs. Passano said to the riders as Grant Hathaway and the Burnet brothers called the straggling hounds together. Nancy noticed that many of the riders looked anxious, but a few were scowling and muttering angrily.
“I’m glad to see no one’s been hurt,” Mrs. Passano said. “Thanks to your quick reactions, we’ve avoided any serious accidents today. You’re all probably very upset. But I promise to get to the bottom of these awful tricks. I will find out who is sabotaging the Mill River Hunt and why. And that person will definitely be punished.”
A general murmur of support spread through the group. “Hear, hear,” Mr. Zachary shouted.
“I’m going on to finish today’s hunt,” Mrs. Passano added. “We’ll ride at a slower pace to minimize the danger. I hope you will all join me.”
“Someone wants to discourage us from hunting,” a thin man in his thirties added gravely. “But we can’t let them push us around. We must not give in to sabotage!”
To Nancy’s surprise, most of the riders, including Mr. Zachary, turned around to ride home. Some were muttering that they’d had enough hunting mishaps for one day. Only a few others, including Laura, rode off behind Mrs. Passano.
George rode over to Nancy. “What’re you going to do, Nan?” she asked. “Give in to sabotage?”
Nancy laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, George, but since you mention it, I do think I’ll call it a day.” Stifling a yawn, she added, “It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden. I’m exhausted.”
“Me, too,” George said. “Plus, this whole hunting thing just bugs me too much.”
“I was glad to see how easily the fox outsmarted the hounds,” Nancy commented as they guided their horses back up the trail.
“True,” George agreed. “I guess foxes really are sly. Still, I’d like to see Mrs. Passano win the hunt board over and make this a drag hunt.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Nancy said.
On their way back, Nancy told George about the glove. Then she fell silent, thinking about the strange sabotage incidents.
At the Passanos’ horse trailer, the two girls dismounted and untacked their horses. They rubbed them down with towels, put sweat sheets on them, then walked them until they cooled down. Then they led them back into the trailer.
A few feet away, Nancy spotted Mark Plonsky arguing with Mr. Zachary. The older man looked furious. He was waving his arms and scowling fiercely. Finally, Mr. Zachary smacked one fist into his other palm and stomped away.
Nancy was surprised to see that Mark Plonsky seemed unfazed. He merely raised an eyebrow as he watched Mr. Zachary walk away.
“George,” Nancy said, “I’ll be right back.”
Strolling over to Mark Plonsky, Nancy noticed that he was only a couple of years older than she was. Medium-tall with wavy dark hair and light gray eyes, he wore blue jeans and a green flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Nancy wondered whether the glove she’d found might fit him, but he had his hands in his jeans pockets.
“Hello,” Nancy said, smiling at Mark Plonsky. “I’m Nancy Drew, a guest of Laura Passano’s.”
“Yes?” he said impatiently. “What can I do for you? I can’t talk long. My friends are waiting.” He glanced over at the other protesters, who were clustered around a burgundy-colored minivan about thirty feet away.
“Well,” Nancy said slowly, trying to figure out how to loosen up the guy, “Mr. Zachary seemed so mad. I wanted to make sure that everything’s okay.”
A wry smile lit up the activist’s face. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I can take care of myself.”
“What was he so angry about, anyway?” Nancy asked.
“It’s really not any of your business,” Plonsky said. “But if you must know, he blames me for the sabotage today.” He rolled his eyes, as if the idea was ridiculous.
“Well . . . I’ve heard you sabotaged the hunt before,” Nancy said. “You weren’t responsible for the barbed wire and the stuffed fox?”
He shook his head. “Unlike you fox hunters,” he declared, “I’d never put an animal in danger—fox, hound, or horse.” Then he abruptly turned and went to join the other activists. Nancy watched them pile into the minivan and drive away.
Nancy went back to the horse trailer and told George about her conversation. “Mark Plonsky has a real attitude problem,” Nancy said. “It’s hard to tell if he’s lying or not.”
“He probably assumes you’re just another hunter who doesn’t care about the fox,” George said thoughtfully. “That could be why he was so rude.”
“Maybe,” Nancy said. “But I still can’t rule him out as a suspect. Except . . . ” She leaned against the horse trailer. “I can’t imagine him poisoning Dundee. And I have this gut feeling that the two events are connected somehow. I still don’t know how or why—but I’m determined to find out.”
• • •
Back at Sky Meadow Farm, Nancy took a shower and changed into a blue cotton skirt, sandals, and a blue-and-white-striped T-shirt. Downstairs, she and George helped Mrs. Passano set the patio table for a late lunch, while Laura made tuna salad. Nancy had decided to wait until after lunch to show the Passanos the glove. She needed their undivided attention. There had been no time on the ride back, and guests were coming for lunch.
