THE FOX 111 



mournful cry, rising, and shivering away through 

 the still night air, like the last gasping cry of a 

 lost soul in torment. A mixture of a whine, a 

 gasp, a spit, and a howl, which startled even the 

 hooting owls into silence. Though I knew well 

 what it was, it made me shiver, it rasped my nerves 

 until I could have screamed too. It trembled to 

 and fro on the echoes ere dying away into silence, 

 after which, for some minutes, not a sound save 

 the slight rustling of the leaves upon the trees was 

 to be heard. Then again rose the gruesome cry, 

 cutting through the peaceful night, and making 

 one wonder if after all it could come from the 

 throat of any mere animal, or was uttered by 

 some lost soul wandering" beneath the trees. It 

 is no matter for surprise that the country people 

 think there are spirits abroad in the midnight 

 woods, when this is the sort of thing they may 

 chance to hear if they wander through them after 

 dark. Yet, after all, it is but the mating cry 

 of the vixen, her answer to her wooers, the foxes 

 which have been barking to her. 



On this occasion they replied to her from all 

 sides, and three times at intervals she screamed 

 her answer, after which silence fell, save for a fox 

 that yapped once in the far distance, and, though 

 I listened long, I heard no more the night held 

 the secret of what had taken place. What 

 happened ? Did that fox which had barked so 

 near find favour with the lady, and did she accept 

 him as her mate ? Or did she decline them one 

 and all, and go off somewhere else to make her 



