44 REDPAD THE FOX 
not altogether right perhaps the taint of human 
hands was still upon the food and he passed on. 
For two hours he hunted in the fields, but the 
meagre results only whetted his appetite. Then 
he recollected the dead lamb, and desire for one full 
meal overcame his caution, and he returned to the 
place. 
The moon, which had been obscured by sullen 
clouds, here brightened a little, and he caught sight 
of the lamb's carcase in the fern, gleaming in the 
dusk. He was hurrying up to it, when suddenly, 
by a wandering night breeze, he winded dog, and 
at the same instant the clouds broke entirely from 
the moon. Redpad stood petrified, for not thirty 
yards away, his back turned and his foot on the dead 
lamb, crouched Jack Skehan's tried sheep-dog. He 
looked up, and snarled at the sheep who stared 
fearfully at him. Evidently he was devouring 
his last night's kill, before attacking the flock. 
As Redpad watched, the dog tore off a mouthful 
and swallowed it. Then he growled again, and 
Redpad slunk silently away. The dog was lightly 
built, and smaller than he was, but he was thin 
and weak, and in no condition to fight. The Fur 
Folk seldom contest a kill, and besides, in Redpad's 
mind, dogs were so intimately connected with men 
that he was by no means certain that a man might 
