82 THE FOX. 



leaving no nook or by-way of them unexplored, was 

 enough to drive and scare every fox from the coun- 

 try. But not so. Indeed, I am almost tempted to 

 say, the more hounds, the more foxes. 



I recently spent a summer month in a mountainous 

 district in the State of New York, where, from its 

 earliest settlement, the red fox has been the standing 

 prize for skill in the use of the trap and gun. At the 

 house where I was stopping were two fox-hounds, and 

 a neighbor, half a mile distant, had a third. There 

 were many others in the township, and in season they 

 were well employed, too ; but the three spoken of, at- 

 tended by their owners, held high carnival on the 

 mountains in the immediate vicinity. And many 

 were the foxes that, winter after winter, fell before 

 them, twenty-five having been shot the season before 

 my visit, on one small range alone. And yet the 

 foxes were apparently never more abundant than 

 they were that summer, and never bold, coming at 

 night within a few rods of the house, and of the un- 

 chained alert hounds, and making havoc among the 

 poultry. 



One morning a large fat goose was found minus her 

 head and otherwise mangled. Both hounds had dis- 

 appeared, and as they did not come back till near 

 night, it was inferred that they had cut short Rey- 

 nard's repast, and given him a good chase into the 

 bargain. But next night he was back again, and this 

 time got safely off with the goose. A couple of 

 nights after he must have come with recruits, for 



