On a Fox Trail 



stumps, and the snow is covered with the 

 chips and punk which he has torn out with 

 teeth and claws. He must have spent an 

 hour in this quest, for the snow is every- 

 where traced with his zigzag paths. But at 

 last he gets off again toward the woods, 

 as we discover by making a detour on the 

 other side of the stumpy pasture. 



For a quarter of a mile his track repre- 

 sents the shortest distance between two 

 points. See how carefully he places one 

 foot in front of another, so as to make the 

 narrowest and least conspicuous trail pos- 

 sible. The Indian must have learned this 

 trick from the fox, I think. It is an evi- 

 dence of the same keen, crafty disposition. 



Now we are in the woods, with the fox 

 track winding in devious, looplike curves 

 among the underbrush, bending toward 

 every snow-covered bush or evergreen 

 clump where a grouse or rabbit or huddled 

 bevy of quail might be dozing. How softly 

 and noiselessly those dainty, padded feet 

 must have fallen in the feathery snow ! No 

 chance of any creature's overhearing Rey- 

 nard, as he comes drifting through the 

 woods with that peculiar, buoyant, floating 



