The Springfield Fox 



face trotted to his lookout to watch the dull 

 hound on the river flat below, my uncle remorse- 

 lessly shot him in the back, at the very moment 

 when he was grinning over a new tiiumph. 



IV 



But still the hens were disappearing. My 

 uncle was wrathy. He determined to conduct 

 the war himself, and sowed the woodsy with 

 poison baits, trusting to luck that our own dogs 

 would not get them. He indulged in contemptu- 

 ous remarks on my by-gone woodcraft, and went 

 out evenings with a gun and the two dogs, to .see 

 what he could destroy. 



Vix knew right well what a poisoned bait was ; 

 she passed them by or else treated them with 

 active contempt, but one she dropped down 

 the hole of an old enemy, a skunk, who was 

 never afterward seen. Formerly old Scarface 

 was always ready to take charge of the dogs, 

 and keep them out of mischief. But now that 

 Vix had the whole burden of the brood, she 

 could no longer spend time in breaking every 

 track to the den, and was not always at hand 



211 



fe*^^ 



