36 THE FOX 



Tnere is as much tendency to variation in the strength 

 of instincts as there is in intelligence and outward 

 form. Thus we note that the instinct to evade, even 

 among cubs of the same litter, takes a different form 

 in different individuals. One, weary, frightened, and 

 heated, thinks of some other covert. He has once 

 gone there to hunt rabbits. It seems as if any- 

 thing were better than this hideous turmoil of his 

 native woods. He slips down the ditch, hits off a 

 well-known smeuse in the hedge, and makes his 

 way over the cool grass-field. The fresh morning air 

 gives him new life and vigour. He has not departed 

 unnoticed. Jim, the first whipper-in, has viewed a fine 

 clean cub. He is ready as two promising puppies hit 

 off the line and scramble through the hedge. Throw- 

 ing their tongues frantically, they bring half the pack 

 out into the field, crack goes the thong into their faces, 

 ' Get awaay baick ! ' and at the same moment another 

 chorus arises in the wood, the puzzled hounds dash off, 

 and have soon forgotten their disappointment in the 

 excitement and savage joy of a kill and a worry. They, 

 like the men who follow the hunt, shed for the time 

 the polish of domestication and civilisation and return 

 gladly to the primitive state. It is interesting to note 

 that those are the happiest moments of our lives when 

 we can forget for a time an existence to which civilisa- 



