122 Vixen 



It was the * water-dripping * song of the saw- 

 whet owl. 



But suddenly a deep raucous breathing and 

 a rustle of leaves showed that Ranger was back. 

 He was completely fagged out. His tongue 

 hung almost to the ground and was dripping 

 with foam, his fianks were heaving and spume- 

 flecks dribbled from his breast and sides. He 

 stopped panting a moment to give my hand a 

 dutiful lick, then flung himself flop on the leaves 

 to drown all other sounds with his noisy panting. 



But again that tantalizing • Yap yiirrr* was 

 heard a few feet away, and the meaning of it all 

 dawned on me. 



We were close to the den where the little 

 foxes were, and the old ones were taking turns 

 in trying to lead us away. 



It was late night now, so we went home feel 

 ing sure that the problem was nearly solved. 



II 



It was well known that there was an old fox 

 with his family living in the neighborhood, but 

 no one supposed them so near. 



This fox had been called *Scarface,* because 

 of a scar reaching from his eye through and 

 back of his ear; this was supposed to have been 



