ANECDOTES OF FOXES 29 



or two fairly good ones, and one exceptionally good 

 one named Falcon. He turned to me during a check 

 in the run, and said, ' We don't want these hill-making 

 devils ; it's quite enough work to account for our own 

 little short - brushed rogues ' (all the same, he was 

 delighted with himself at having shown such sport) ; 

 and then he remarked to a farmer who was standing 

 watching the 'throw up,' 'How are you, my good 

 fellow ? I hope you are well. What a grand fox you 

 have !' etc. ; and then, turning again to me, said, ' As 



if I cared a d how he is !' Poor Sam always 



declared he would die in harness, and so he did. 



The following stories regarding the cunning of foxes 

 were told to me by a Highland keeper, one day when 

 we were waiting to get up to some stags and were 

 delayed by reason of the hinds feeding in the way. 



Like most men of his class, Donald Mactavish 

 entertained the usual ' suspicions aboot ' certain things, 

 such as sounds, lights unaccountably seen at night, 

 will-o'-the-wisps, etc. He firmly believed everything 

 he had ever heard from his parents about such things, 

 and had the very greatest respect for anything ever 

 told him of the cunning of foxes, etc. I tell the story 

 in his own words. 



' When I was a laddie of fifteen summers (I was 



then gillie to his honour Lord F ), one day we 



were stalking, when foul wind stopped us and 

 gave us a long cold wait, and then some dirty work 

 crawlin' in the moss until our bodies was black as 

 craws : weel, then we had to wait for an hour or so in 

 a foul wind, which perished us until she was near cold 

 as death. The gentleman we was taking up to the 

 beasts, she was a fine shot ; when she gave us the 



