BUTTERFLIES OF MT. HOOD 167 



to play golf, or rather, tag. The golfer and his 

 small son were knocking the ball back and forth 

 about the green, it being too near dusk to play, 

 when the boy called his father's attention to 

 some creature watching them from the edge of a 

 grove. It was a fox. Just then the ball was sent 

 in the direction of Reynard, who ran out on the 

 green, caught it up, and cut for the woods with 

 the golfers after him. He dropped the ball, ran 

 on, and stopped to watch the players again. 

 Again they knocked the ball toward him, when 

 he ran after it and scampered with it for the 

 trees, the two golfers yelling at him and chasing 

 him till he dropped it. Then they took an old 

 ball, drove it far before them across the path of 

 the fox, who once more seized it, and with the 

 human playmates at his heels got away success- 

 fully, the ball in his teeth, amidst the trees. He 

 was perhaps a young fox who, like Pups, was 

 dying for a little play. 



One of our naturalists describes the game of 

 "follow my leader" as he watched it played by 

 a school of minnows — a most unusual record, 

 but not at all hard to believe, for I saw only 

 recently, from the bridge in the Boston Public 



