48 ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS 
game or escaping enemies is to know your coun- 
try. Run your rabbit into a blind alley, run the 
pursuing dog to a steep hill that will take his 
wind, or to a brook where he will lose the scent, or 
to a big, flat rock where you can circle all around, 
springing off and on again from various points, 
finally to dash away with a long bound. That 
leaves the dogs, when they arrive, baying madly 
round and round the rock, like wound-up toys on 
a table-top. It’s really rather amusing. 
Big Reddy was certainly a handsome fellow. 
His fur was rich and red gold, his legs were coal 
black, his brush was magnificent, almost sweeping 
the ground, he had a deep chest, splendid speed, 
sharp ears that pricked up straight at the slight- 
est interesting sound, and eyes that snapped with 
intelligence. His ears were so good that if he 
was crossing a field at night and a mouse 
squeaked in the grass two hundred feet away—a 
sound you or I couldn’t hear unless we were al- 
most on top of it—he would freeze to a statue, 
listening, and when he had the exact bearings, he 
would steal softly, on padded feet, toward the 
sound, keeping to any cover that was there, and 
