THE MIND OF THE FOX 55 



suspected to be frequented by foxes. One day, when 

 hounds were in the neighbourhood, he determined to 

 watch the tree ; he believed he would thus solve the 

 problem of certain unaccountable disappearances of 

 foxes in his covens, and roll away from himself and 

 his under-keeper the reproach of careless earth-stop- 

 ping. After watching some time, a far-off note on 

 the horn, and then the melody of hounds rising and 

 falling, waxing and waning with the ground, the set 

 of the wind and the fortunes of the chase, came down 

 the breeze. Presently a fox trotted straight up the 

 ride ; his arched back, his dragging brush clogged 

 with mud, his weary gait, told beyond possibility of 

 doubt that he had been hunted. He was too hot to 

 seek the shelter of the covert, and was seen to be 

 making for the tree. He scrambled up it, there was 

 a smothered growl, a snarl, and a young fox — one of a 

 litter of the same year, for the keeper recognised him 

 by the fact that he had very light-coloured pads and 

 a white patch of fur on the throat— leaped to the 

 ground. The old fox had turned out the young one 

 to run in his place. Five or six minutes later the 

 hounds came up, hesitated, hovered for a moment 

 near the tree, and then driving forward hit off the 

 fresh scent and dashed on. This happens probably 

 often enough, though it is only rarely possible to 



