A HERMIT'S WILD FRIENDS 



under the combined influence of sun and sand. 

 Here Triplefoot had thrown the hounds off, 

 and had left me out of the hunt, too. Not 

 a track could be seen in the shifting white 

 sand. It was an old trick of the foxes, to 

 resort to the sand-dunes, when there was a 

 dearth of water. There was one of two things 

 for me to do ; give up the hunt and go 

 home, or skirt the woods for Triplefoot's trail, 

 where she had left the beach. I decided on 

 the latter course, and, as luck was with me, 

 found the trail in less than ten minutes. The 

 fox returned by way of Mount Ann and 

 Dyke's Meadow, crossing Magnolia Swamp 

 south of Solomon's Orchard, and took to the 

 ridges near the old quarry. The den was 

 under a big boulder, and, strange to tell, was 

 only eight minutes' walk from my cabin. It 

 was dark when I found the den, so I had 

 thrown away a whole day looking for a thing 

 that was in my own dooryard, so to speak. 

 Triplefoot reared a family during the sea- 

 son. In April she stored two hens and a grouse 

 in her den, so she would not have to hunt 

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