Ragfgfylugf 



night for hunting, but that old fox from Spring- 

 field was out. He came pointing up the wind 

 in the shelter of the Swamp and chanced in the 

 lee of the brush-pile, where he scented the 

 sleeping Cottontails. He halted for a moment, 

 then came stealthily sneaking up toward the 

 brush under which his nose told him the rabbits 

 were crouching. The noise of the wind and 

 the sleet enabled him to come quite close be- 

 fore Molly heard the faint crunch of a dry 

 leaf under his paw. She touched Rag's whis- 

 kers, and both were fully awake just as the fox 

 sprang on them; but they always slept with their 

 legs ready for a jump. Molly darted out into 

 the blinding storm. The fox missed his spring 

 but followed like a racer, while Rag dashed off 

 to one side. 



There was only one road for Molly ; that was 

 straight up the wind, and bounding for her 

 life she gained a little over the unfrozen mud 

 that would not carry the fox, till she reached 

 the margin of the pond. No chance to turn 

 now, on she must go. 



Splash ! splash ! through the weeds she went, 

 then plunge into the deep water. 



138 



