AUTUMN 59 



brush waving me farewell. He was gone so 

 instantaneously that it was hard to believe 

 he had really been there. 



That was a pretty good look (at a fox), 

 but far less satisfying than the other of my 

 Franconia experiences. With two friends 

 I had come down through the forest from 

 the Notch railroad by a rather blind loggers' 

 trail, heading for a pair of abandoned farms, 

 grassy fields in which it is needful to give 

 heed to one's steps for fear of bear-traps. 

 As we emerged into the first clearing a fox 

 was not more than five or six rods before us, 

 feeding in the grass. Her eyes were on her 

 work, the wind was in our favor, and not- 

 withstanding two of us were almost wholly 

 exposed, we stood there on the edge of the 

 forest for the better part of half an hour, 

 glasses up, passing comments upon her be- 

 havior. Evidently she was lunching upon 

 insects, — grasshoppers or crickets, I sup- 

 pose, — and so taken up was she with this 

 agreeable employment that she walked di- 

 rectly toward us and passed within ten yards 

 of our position, stopping every few steps for 

 a fresh capture. The sunlight, which shone 



