A FOX IN THE MERAMEC VALLEY 



warmer. " Boo-oo-oo-woo-Boo-oop," swelled 

 the burst of dog-music. 



"My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, 

 So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung, 

 With ears that sweep away the morning dew, 

 Crook-kneed and dew-lapped, like Thessalian bulls. 

 Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, 

 Each under each." 



The echoes weave in and out of the trees, 

 and that fox is certainly somewhere directly 

 across the river stealing sinuously among 

 those russet thickets, doubtless, and probably 

 calculating to a nicety where the dogs will be 

 at fault; for there is a small creek that runs 

 into the river at this point, a mere brook, in 

 fact, and it will not be presumed that Rey- 

 nard has not taken advantage of this. He 

 has run half-way across a log spanning it, 

 and then turned and jumped back to the same 

 bank from which he mounted the log. He 

 has wet his feet in the water and run along 

 in the shallow edges of the stream for a few 

 yards. Then he has jumped on a leaning 

 tree which half crosses the narrow current, 

 and from there he has jumped into the water 

 199 



