142 Vixen 



the morning I found the chain was very bright 

 for a foot or two next the little one's collar. 



On walking across the woods to the ruined 

 den, I again found signs of Vixen. The poor 

 heart-broken mother had come and dug out the 

 bedraggled bodies of her little ones. 



There lay the three little baby foxes all 

 licked smooth now, and by them were two of 

 our hens fresh killed. The newly heaved earth 

 was printed all over with tell-tale signs — signs 

 that told me that here by the side of her dead 

 she had watched like Rizpah. Here she had 

 brought their usual meal, the spoil of her nightly 

 hunt. Here she had stretched herself beside 

 them and vainly offered them their natural 

 drink and yearned to feed and warm them as of 

 old; but only stiff little bodies under their soft 

 wool she found, and little cold noses still and 

 unresponsive. 



A deep impress of elbows, breast, and hocks 

 showed where she had laid in silent grief and 

 watched them for long and mourned as a wild 

 mother can mourn for its young. But from 

 that time she came no more to the ruined d«n, 

 for now she surely knew that her little ones 

 were dead. 



