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 "Well, then, Oswald and I have got a pistol—shares—and I had it last night. And when I couldn't sleep last night because of the toothache I got up and went out early this morning. And I took the pistol. And I loaded it just for fun. And down in the wood I heard a whining like a dog, and I went, and there was the poor fox caught in an iron trap with teeth. And I went to let it out and it bit me—look, here's the place—and the pistol went off and the fox died, and I am so sorry."

"But why didn't you tell the others?"

"They weren't awake when I went to the dentist's."

"But why didn't you tell your uncle if you've been with him all the morning?"

"It was the oath," H. O. said:

White Whiskers actually grinned.

"Well," he said, "I see it was an accident, my boy." Then he turned to us and said:

"I owe you an apology for doubting your word—all of you. I hope it's accepted."

We said it was all right and he was to never mind.

But all the same we hated him for it. He tried to make up for his unbelievingness afterwards by asking Albert's uncle to shoot rabbits; but we did not really forgive him till the day when he sent the fox's brush to Alice, mounted in silver, with a