18 



THE FALL OF THE YEAR 





down on his tail in the edge of a pine-tree shadow. 

 " Odd indeed. Not a stump ; not a man, in spite of 

 appearances, for a man could never stand still so 

 long as that." 



The dogs were crashing through the underbrush^ 

 below, their fierce cries quivering through the very j 

 trees about me. 



The fox got up, trotted back and forth in front 

 of me for the best possible view, muttering, " Too 

 bad ! Too bad ! What an infernal nuisance a pack 

 of poodles can make of themselves at times ! Here 

 is something new in the woods, and smells of the 

 hen-yard, as I live ! Those silly dogs ! " and trotting 

 back, down the path over which he had just come, 

 he ran directly toward the coming hounds, leaped 

 off into a pile of brush and stones, and vanished as 

 the hounds rushed up in a yelping, panting whirl 

 about me. 



Cool ? Indeed it was ! He probably did not stop, 

 as soon as he was out of sight, and make faces at 

 the whole pack. But that is because they have po- 

 liter ways in Foxland. 



It is no such walking-match as this every time. 

 It is nip and tuck, neck and neck, a dead heat 

 sometimes, when only his superior knowledge of the 

 ground saves the fox a whole skin. 



Perhaps there are peculiar conditions, at times, 

 that are harder for the fox than for the dogs, as 

 when the undergrowth is all adrip with rain or dew, 



