THE FOX 



by sound, he suddenly blooms ruddily 

 out of the dead whiteness of the snow. 



Whether he flies past or carefully 

 picks his way along a fallen tree or bare 

 ledge, you remark his facial expression 

 of incessant intentness on cunning de- 

 vices, while ears, eyes, and nose are 

 alert for danger. If he discovers you, 

 with what ready self-possession he in- 

 stantly gets and keeps a tree between 

 himself and you and vanishes while your 

 gun vainly searches for its opportunity. 

 If your shot brings him down, and you 

 stand over him exultant, yet pitying the 

 end of his wild life, even in his death 

 throes fearing you no more, he yet 

 strains his dulled ears to catch the voices 

 of the relentless hounds. 



Bravely the wild freebooter holds his 

 own against the encroachments of civili- 

 zation and the persecution of mankind, 

 levying on the flocks and broods of his 

 enemy, rearing his yellow cubs in the 

 very border of his field, insulting him 

 with nightly passage by his threshold. 



Long ago his fathers bade farewell to 

 their grim cousin the wolf, and saw the 

 beaver and the timid deer pass away, 

 274 



