12 THE FACE OF THE FIELDS 



the fox broke from cover in the tall woods, struck 

 the old wagon road along the ridge, and came 

 at a gallop down behind the hencoops, with five 

 hounds not a minute behind. They passed with 

 a crash and were gone — up over the ridge and 

 down into the east swamp. Soon I noticed that 

 the pack had broken, deploying in every direc- 

 tion, beating the ground over and over. Reynard 

 had given them the slip, on the ridge-side, evi- 

 dently, for there were no cries from below in the 

 swamp. 



The noon whistles blew, and leaving my work 

 I went down to re-stake my cow in the meadow. 

 I had just drawn her chain-pin when down 

 the road through the orchard behind me came 

 the fox, hopping high up and down, his neck 

 stretched, his eye peeled for poultry. Spying a 

 white hen of my neighbor's, he made for her, 

 clear to the barnyard wall. Then, hopping higher 

 for a better view, he sighted another hen in the 

 front yard, skipped in gayly through the fence, 

 seized her, loped across the road, and away up 

 the birch-grown hills beyond. 



The dogs had been at his very heels ten min- 

 utes before. He had fooled them. He had done 



