1 46 Vixen 



to win respect, it not toleration. At any rate, 

 there was no gunner in wait next night, when 

 all was still. Could it be of any use ^ Driven 

 off thrice with gun-shots, would she make an- 

 other try to feed or free her captive young 

 one? 



Would she? Hers was a mother's love. 

 There was but one to watch them this time, 

 the fourth night, when the quavering whine 

 of the little one was followed by that shadowy 

 form above the wood-pile. 



But carrying no fowl or food that could be 

 seen. Had the keen huntress failed at last? 

 Had she no head of game for this her only 

 charge, or had she learned to trust his captors 

 for his food ? 



No, far from all this. The wild-wood mother's 

 heart and hate were true. Her only thought 

 had been to set him free. All means she knew 

 she tried, and every danger braved to tend him 

 well and help him to be free. But all had failed. 



Like a shadow she came and in a moment 

 was gone, and Tip seized on something dropped, 

 and crunched and chewed with relish what she 

 brought. But even as he ate, a knife-like pang 

 shot through and a scream of pain escaped him. 

 Then there was a momentary struggle and the 

 little fox was dead. 



