NEIGHBOURS OF THE WINTER NIGHT 129 



feet of the fence all the way down to the inclosed winter 

 cow pasture behind the barns, and was there lost in the 

 trample of cattle-prints. But back toward the wooded 

 hill it was distinct enough. We followed it. After the 

 sly manner of his kind, the fox had kept close to what 

 cover a rail fence provided, all the way across the pas- 

 ture. Once or twice he had stopped to listen, planting 

 an extra paw mark. 



When we entered the woods we found that the trail 

 came down from the summit of a steep, rocky hill which 

 is part of a town park, but preserved in its native wild- 

 ness. The side of this hill is thickly sprinkled with 

 laurel bushes. Slipping and falling in the deep, soft 

 snow, we scrambled up the rocky slope on the trail. The 

 fox had not abandoned his cunning even in the deep 

 woods. He had so zigzagged down the hill that he had 

 been almost constantly protected by laurel bushes. 

 There was a young moon last night, and we could im- 

 agine him slinking down under the projecting waxy 

 leaves toward that delectable duck yard on the distant 

 farm. At the top of the hill we hoped to find his nest 

 among the piles of broken bowlders, but when we 

 reached the summit a great wind-blown ledge had 

 melted bare. Across this he had evidently walked, but 

 we could find no sign of the trail on the other side. The 

 sun had probably melted it out. We had to abandon 

 the chase. 



Instead, still panting with the slippery climb, we 



