110 The Fox 
were out of harm’s way, high in the trees near the 
garden. Matters went from bad to worse. And when 
my favorite Dorking cock was served to the young 
foxes, it was too much! Straightway the foxes were 
dug out and the young were given away as pets. The 
old foxes were not killed, but after the day the young 
were taken I do not know that I saw the parents 
again. At dusk that evening I saw a shadowy form 
near the little house which had been prepared for one 
of the young foxes. For several nights the barking 
of foxes was heard not far away, and sometimes the 
little captive made bold to answer. Through worry 
and confinement, and perhaps improper food, the 
little fox quickly lost his plumpness and the glossi- 
ness of fur. One morning a dead partridge was 
found beside his prison door, probably killed and 
brought there by the mother fox. Purposely, on the 
following evening the collar of the imprisoned fox 
was gently loosened, and the door of his house left 
ajar. In the morning the collar lay beside the door, 
and I imagined that the little fellow was safe with his 
mother among the hills. 
I learned in the following autumn that two more 
of the young foxes escaped. I hoped that they would 
journey back to the valley in which they were born, 
never again to be trammelled by collar and chain. 
