

CHAPTER VI 

 THE "CALL OF THE WILD " 



(BEING THE HISTORY OF A TAME FOX) 



HAVING given some account of the fox 

 at home in its native wilds, I am going 

 to devote a chapter to the history of a 

 tame one, as the story shows what a real force 

 is the " call of the wild." 



It was early in April April 5th, to be exact 

 when two tiny fox-cubs were brought to me. 

 They were very small and young, not more than 

 two days old at the most, and I gazed in dismay 

 at the tiny, grey, kittenish things, for I knew it 

 would be an almost impossible task to rear them, 

 yet there was something so babyish and motherless 

 about them that I had not the heart to refuse 

 to try. 



They were a dark grey-brown, almost mouse 

 colour, in tint ; they had snub noses, and short 

 tails that were already tipped with white ; their 

 tiny ears lay flat against their heads ; they were, 

 of course, blind, and had not a trace of teeth ; 

 indeed, they were just like newly born kittens, 

 no one who had never seen very young fox- 

 i* 



