34 



THE FOX 



pace to that of the hounds, and as ' Nimrod ' well puts 

 it : ' The fox in front of the slow hound is, I should 

 say, nine times in ten not a yard farther ahead than 

 he would be before the quick ones.' This is true 

 in most cases, though no doubt there are exceptions, 

 as I shall presently show. 



But to return to the education of the fox. When 

 his mother and Nature have finished with him, and he 

 has, as a well-grown cub, every equipment of know- 

 ledge necessary, and only lacks experience, man comes 

 in and teaches him the next step, for in August and 

 September the coverts are disturbed. Up to this 

 time the cubs have hunted in concert, led by the 

 vixen. One morning the cubs come home from their 

 nightly prowl to find the earths stopped. They make 

 a futile effort to scratch in, if they are not frightened 

 away by the smell of man and dog in their familiar 

 haunts. It is scarcely light, the pleasant misty gloom 

 of a fine autumn morning hangs over the trees, the 

 air is moist with a heavy dew, the faint chill of 

 dying summer is in the air. Then the wood is full 

 of sharp noises. If instinct is in part tribal memory 

 serving where, owing to the shortness of life, personal 

 experience is insufficient, the sounds of the hunt wake 

 faint reminiscences, and the cubs are on the move. 

 It may be, however, that the vixen, who warns 



