FOREST AND STREAM 
813 
After the Season Closed. 
them in check, taking no chances now for the 
dogs semed more than ever full of an un¬ 
principled desire to 'be away on the plainly 
revealed trail. They had been whinning and 
mutter-rumbling all the time, and it could easily 
be seen that only thongs could keep them from 
their all-dominant purpose. Now, then, Nero, 
the foxhound, buried his nose in the fluffy snow, 
with an intake of breath; the others did like¬ 
wise, then away they sped with a scurry that 
threw the snow into the air. A moment and 
they were lost from sight. Brown who had 
waited developments in the yard witnessed this 
and waved his hand. 
“He was here last night,” shouted Daniel. “We 
will get him this time!” 
“He’s too wise for you,” shouted back Farmer 
Brown. “If you get that fox the chicken dinner 
is on me.” 
“We’ll get him, don’t worry,” answered Daniel. 
Just you wait and see.” 
Daniel planned as we ran up the brow of the 
hill and looked the territory over. Far away 
down there in the wood to the west of us rang 
out the long-drawn, melodious bay of the leader 
hound; and the rapid-fire yapping of the shep¬ 
herd, Tom, rang out incessantly filling in the 
spaces when the industrious Nero was silently 
trailing. Fido, the mute trailer, said not a bark, 
but we knew that he was nip and tuck with 
the rest of them. That the trail was fresh 
was shown by the eagerness of the dogs. They 
led off practically straight west. 
“Just like I thought,” nodded Daniel. “You 
see. They go right west now, don’t they? They 
jump him and he will begin to lead them still 
more west, but he will swing just the same way 
as he ever does. Now he will come by one of 
two places, and those places we will watch, see? 
I give you one place; I take the other; and if 
we watch close perhaps we will get him. The 
idea is to get so that the wind blows toward 
you from him. If lie sniffs us, it’s all off.” 
Daniel now led the way, almost directly from 
the way the dogs were leading the chase, hut 
we could still hear their baying and yapping 
upon the still air. The morning was crisp and 
clear; as fine a December day as I had ever 
known or witnessed. On and on we swung, 
stopping now and then to listen and conjecture 
aloud. All signs led us to believe that the dogs 
still had the fox leading westward; but whether 
he had been jumped we could not tell. About 
two miles from the home of the farmer we 
entered a ravine; and here Daniel called a halt. 
We were then facing the mouth of it, and luckily 
enough the wind was just right, blowing toward 
us. Daniel made known the fact that the fox 
like as not would use this ravine; but there 
was also a chance he would take another route, 
and Daniel would so post himself at this other 
place as to stop any such distressful happening. 
We parted company wishing each other luck. 
Daniel told me just where about the animal would 
enter and told me there to watch. This I 
patiently enough proceeded to do, with what de¬ 
gree of expectation I leave to the imagination 
of the reader. There was a keyed-up, tense 
excitement about it; and I wondered distantly 
just how it would feel to spot the red fellow, 
and bring the rifle to bear upon him. Then I con¬ 
sidered, too, the beauty of that fur, and espe¬ 
cially the brush, a trophy indeed! 
Now waiting for a fox in the path of one of 
his travelled routes is a matter that may be 
discussed from many points of view; that of 
ceaseless waiting for the game being one, and 
perhaps it is the most enervating. For the rea¬ 
son, plain and simple that a fox may show 
up in very good season; then again this same 
reynard may run a great distance and may come 
your way—after hours of time; and again he 
may not come your way at all. In which case 
your day of hunt is spoiled and you must trudge 
home unrewarded, while the dogs trail on, and 
den him up or are intercepted, and called away 
from their task, if task it be. 
Dim and dreamily far away I heard the re¬ 
miniscent baying of the hounds. At times it 
seemed, as I strained my ears to catch those 
records of the ensuing chase that I could not 
distinguish them at all; then more distinguish- 
ably would come the resounding, long-drawn-out, 
silence-shattering bay of the foxhound and I 
knew that they were yet swift on that trail. I 
mentally wondered how the fox was behaving. 
How he must be silently flitting in and out 
among the undergrowth, lightly leaping wind¬ 
falls, and pausing now and then to face the 
