THE SQUIRE AGAIN 157 



large balls of snow that clung to his fur. They 

 went back the way they had come, the vixen 

 leading, Grey Fox hopping on three legs. Twice 

 he stopped to scratch his aching jaws, and 

 at the bend by the quarry he disappeared 

 from view. 



The hunt was over, but even when satisned of 

 that the hare still held on. He was harassed 

 now by a fresh fear, the fear of being tracked. 

 This possessed him so strongly, that weary as 

 he was, he wandered in and out the patches 

 of scattered furze, confusing his trail so as to 

 baffle any enemy who should try to trace 

 him, and not until the long night was giving 

 way to dawn did he settle in his form, which 

 he sought in the old spot on the bank of the 

 mill-pool. 



That day, whilst the Squire was abroad after 

 woodcock, he came on the triple trail above the 

 quarry, and recognising the track of the hare, 

 was at once filled with desire to see the end 

 of the story told on the snow. His excite- 

 ment, as he stood on the lip of the quarry, 

 looking at the shaft-like hole, astonished his 

 henchman : the feeling he displayed when he 

 discovered the track of the hare bv the cottage 

 door was altogether beyond the man's com- 

 prehension. 



