REDPAD THE FOX 57 
pools in the meadows. The mists were already 
rising, and the great solemn woods on the other 
side lay in shadow. The waterhens feeding on 
the river bank scuttled away as he limped down 
to the water's edge. 
The river was in full flood and rushed hurrahing 
seawards, carrying foam flakes and branches of 
trees in its coffee-coloured current. It filled its 
banks to the brim, and not a ripple was left to tell 
where the ford had been. The willow tree which 
grew beside the spot was partially uprooted and 
drooped into the water with its branches festooned 
with flotsam. Redpad paused bewildered, for 
never before had this ford failed him at his need. 
Just then the hounds broke over the brow of the 
hill and tore down the slope. Redpad saw them, 
and determined to make a desperate bid for freedom. 
Very slowly and stiffly he crept out along the 
horizontal trunk of the willow, and so into the 
smaller branches above the water, where a hound 
could not venture. The pack came up and crowded 
baying round the tree. Now and then one tried 
to follow along the trunk, but they were less nimble 
than a fox and slipped back into the water. Redpad 
lay crouched flat with his teeth bared, and no hound 
could reach him from below. 
Presently two men rode down and dismounted 
