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Updated: June 28, 2025
"We've got to thank Turkey for this. Turkey is the Great Man. Turkey, dear, you're distressing Heffles." "Gloomy old ass!" said McTurk, deep in a book. "They've got us under suspicion," said Stalky. "Hoophats is so suspicious somehow; and Foxy always makes every stalk he does a sort of sort of " "Scalp," said Beetle. "Foxy's a giddy Chingangook." "Poor Foxy," said Stalky.
"As I have said, the mystery behind it remains unsolved, but Foxy's reign is at an end, and with him goes the store, for which I am devoutly thankful. "I would my tale ended here with the downfall of Foxy, but, my dear Ned, I have to record a sadder and more humiliating downfall than that the abject and utter collapse of my noble self.
They saw a group of boys by the notice-board in the corridor; little Foxy, the school sergeant, among them. "More bounds, I expect," said Stalky. "Hullo, Foxibus, who are you in mournin' for?" There was a broad band of crape round Foxy's arm. "He was in my old regiment," said Foxy, jerking his head towards the notices, where a newspaper cutting was thumb-tacked between call-over lists.
Within a week Hughie was Foxy's partner in business, enjoying hugely the privilege of dispensing the store goods, with certain perquisites that naturally attached to him as storekeeper.
But from that night, and through all the long weeks of the breaking winter, when games in the woods were impossible by reason of the snow and water, and when the roads were deep with mud, Hughie carried his burden with him, till life was one long weariness and dread. And through these days he was Foxy's slave. A pistol without ammunition was quite useless. Foxy's stock was near at hand.
"Rackliff!" muttered Springer, struck by sudden conviction. "Old chum of mine. Don't suppose this little experience will do his cold any good, I got Orv Foxhall to come over here for Herb this morning with old man Foxy's bubble that's down there at the bottom of the canal, where it's liable to stay for some time. I reckon we'll all travel back to Wyndham by steam cars."
Foxy, with one or two smaller boys, was left in charge of the store waiting for trade. In a few moments Foxy's head appeared at the door, when, whiz! a snowball skinned his ear and flattened itself with a bang against the slabs. "Hold on there! Stop that! You're too close up," shouted Foxy, thinking that the invaders were breaking the rules of the game.
"You certainly have the intuition of an animal," was the reply. "Jack, I love you, old pal; you're white and sharp and clean right through! Yes, he 'powder-puffed' my hair. I'll tell you about it some day. Not to-night. You must sleep to-night, and remember, 'all's well' as long as Foxy's at the helm."
Then, too, there were balls of gum, beautifully clear, which in its raw state Foxy gathered from the ends of the pine logs at the sawmill, and which, by a process of boiling and clarifying known only to himself, he brought to a marvelous perfection. But Foxy's genius did not confine itself to sweets.
When the river and pond were covered with clear, black ice, skating would be the rage, and then Foxy's store would be hung with skate-straps, and with cedar-bark torches, which were greatly in demand for the skating parties that thronged the pond at night. There were no torches like Foxy's.
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