And pfunge went the fox close behind. But 

 it was too much for Reynard on such a night. 

 He turned back, and Molly, seeing only one 

 course, struggled through the reeds into the deep 

 water and struck out for the other shore. But 

 there was a strong headwind. The little waves, 

 icy cold, broke over her head as she swam, and 

 the water was full of snow that blocked her 

 way like soft ice, or floating mud. The dark 

 line of the other shore seemed far, far away, 

 with perhaps the fox waiting for her there. 



But she laid her ears fiat to be out of the gale, 

 and bravely put forth all her strength with wind 

 and tide against her. After a long, weary 

 swim in the cold water, she had nearly reached 

 the farther reeds when a great mass of floating 

 snow barred her road ; then the wind on the 

 bank made strange, fox-like sounds that robbed 

 her of all force, and she was drifted far back- 

 ward before she could get free from the floating 

 bar. 



Again she struck out, but slowly — oh so 

 slowly now. And when at last she reached the 

 lee of the tall reeds, her limbs were numbed, 

 her strength spent, her brave little heart was 



141 



