28 The Fox 



four or five hens had mysteriously disappeared, and 

 one day I saw a fox not far from the barn. There 

 was nothing remarkable in this except that the fox 

 was the darkest in color I had ever seen, outside the 

 black species. The disappearance of the hens was 

 now no myster)', a den of foxes being less than a 

 quarter of a mile away. Such being the case, I 

 began at once to cultivate the acquaintance of the 

 family. In the parents I expected to find the ordinary 

 red-fox variety, so common about the region; but 

 one of them was extremely dark in color. 



The entrance to the den looked like a very large 

 woodchuck's burrow, save that it bore evidence of 

 more constant use, and that scattered about were bits 

 of fur and feathers of various kinds. 



The first time I visited the burrow I did not see 

 any foxes. After this, whenever I was near the bur- 

 row the darker colored of the old foxes was usually 

 to be seen on a knoll not far away, sitting dog-fashion 

 and occasionally uttering a sharp bark. I seldom 

 saw the red fox, which I supposed to be the male, 

 unless a dog accompanied me. In that case the 

 darker fox would retire and the red one would come 

 closer, apparently inviting the dog to a chase. How- 

 ever, since the dog was not a fox hound, he would 

 soon return, only to be provoked again by the near 



