IN THE CATSKILLS 



a dead porker, upon which it appeared all the foxes 

 of the neighborhood had nightly banqueted. The 

 clouds were burdened with snow; and as the first 

 flakes commenced to eddy down, he set out, trap 

 and broom in hand, already counting over in imagi- 

 nation the silver quarters he would receive for his 

 first fox-skin. With the utmost care, and with a 

 palpitating heart, he removed enough of the trodden 

 snow to allow the trap to sink below the surface. 

 Then, carefully sifting the light element over it 

 and sweeping his tracks full, he quickly withdrew, 

 laughing exultingly over the little surprise he had 

 prepared for the cunning rogue. The elements con- 

 spired to aid him, and the falling snow rapidly oblit- 

 erated all vestiges of his work. The next morning 

 at dawn he was on his way to bring in his fur. 

 The snow had done its work effectually, and, he 

 believed, had kept his secret well. Arrived in sight 

 of the locality, he strained his vision to make out 

 his prize lodged against the fence at the foot of the 

 hill. Approaching nearer, the surface was unbroken, 

 and doubt usurped the place of certainty in his 

 mind. A slight mound marked the site of the 

 porker, but there was no footprint near it. Look- 

 ing up the hill, he saw where Reynard had walked 

 leisurely down toward his wonted bacon till within 

 a few yards of it, when he had wheeled, and with 

 prodigious strides disappeared in the woods. The 

 young trapper saw at a glance what a comment this 

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