J 'T3' 
Treat’s Fox. 
The sun broke over the hilltops out of a 
oudless azure sky. Southern winds sweeping 
pitly down the Richmondville valley merged 
te raw fog-chilled atmosphere, characteristic 
t late autumn dawns, into a warm, hazy, In- 
[in summer morning. With the first gleam of 
cylight, the somber gray hillsides and russet- 
feen valley were dotted here and there with 
Hated plowmen, whose loud cries, urging slow 
loving farm teams to a faster pace, were faintly 
lifted to the tranquil village streets. 
:As the sun rose high in the heavens a lacka- 
iisical feeling seemed to pervade the easy- 
fiing village inhabitants. Merchants, doctors 
id lawyers neglected work ta join groups of 
Mierable citizens in front of several business 
laces and took part in their languid discussion 
i local politics. Even the post office was 
iserted except by “Ikey,” the unshaven deputy, 
mo lounged contentedly on an empty soap 
lx, giving appreciative attention to the squawk- 
ig discord of a rickety talking machine within. 
On the porch of the Farmers’ Hotel its corpu- 
jnt proprietor, “Fat” Art, in shirt sleeves and 
oad felt hat, reclined against a supporting 
■liar and toyed affectionately with the glossy 
rs of Wheat, the barber’s dog, who wavered 
ftween a fondness for human caresses and an 
"herited desire to tree the baker’s yellow cat. 
I small boy clad in ragged overalls dug the toes 
his dilapidated shoes in the gutter and cast 
iy glances at cat and dog, which revealed his 
tention of bringing about a radical expression 
instinctive annimosity Between them at a 
vorable opportunity. The glory of this last 
ruggle of a dying summer cast its- enchanting 
tell over me, and I, too, was loth to take up 
lily duties. For an hour or more I lounged 
the Herald office doorway, exchanging greet- 
gs with passing townsmen, and mentally con- 
asting the comparatively easy existence of my 
isiness friends with that of their madly rush- 
ig, forceful, alert city brothers, but finally I 
look off my indolent feelings, sought my desk 
id was perusing an accumulation of exchanges, 
hen a shadow crossed the doorway and Treat 
ludson, bearing an enormous pumpkin in his 
rms, entered. 
“By Jiminy!” he cried, depositing his burden 
n the desk. “When Samantha Ann found out 
was coming to town to invite you down for 
foxhunt, she made me tote that pumpkin 
long for your better half. She reckons fall 
inners aren’t exactly complete without pump- 
in pie, and if I do say it, she can certainly 
ake Jim crackers—nice tender-crusted fellers 
ith stuffing enough to make you want a big 
iece. 
“Now, what do you say to trying our luck 
ext Saturday? Fve a splendid hound and am 
ure we can start a fox on Rifenback Hill, 
here’s an unfailing spring near the top, where 
ley come to drink, and I have noticed several 
mes this summer that' its muddy banks were 
ell trampled.” 
His jovial face beamed with satisfaction as 
lie departed, cautioning me to “be on hand be¬ 
fore sunup” and assuring me a royal day’s 
sport. 
My eyes followed his short, lithe figure, un¬ 
shaken by long seasons of arduous toil in the 
field and four hard years of meritorious service 
in defense of his country, as, whistling merrily, 
he swung down the street and disappeared. 
With but scant heed to tingling ears and 
fingers, I trudged over the frozen road, arriv¬ 
ing at Treat’s farmhouse before dawn of the 
appointed day. Yellow rays of lamp light 
showed through the kitchen windows, illuminat¬ 
ing narrow stretches of door yard and an old- 
fashioned flower garden whose frost-covered 
stalks and shrubbery glistened in its soft glow 
like the tinsel jewels of stageland. The crunch 
of my footsteps brought Treat to the door, and 
I was ushered into the presence of motherly 
Samantha Ann, who was preparing a breakfast 
of hot corn cakes and smoked sausage, while the 
big kitchen teemed with the aroma of delicious 
coffee. 
“Draw your chairs right up to the table and 
eat your fill. Treat says there’s nothing like a 
full stomach to start a foxhunt on,” she laugh¬ 
ingly remarked as we hastened to obey. 
With the first gleam of sunrise we tramped 
across the fields and ascended Rifenback Hill. 
Near the spring our dog picked up a trail and 
went tearing off in an easterly direction. For 
a moment Treat listened intently to the babble 
and then we plunged through the underbrush 
to intercept the animals on the further side of 
the hill. 
Fainter and fainter became the dog’s bark as 
we raced over the uneven ground. Far in the 
distance I could hear a freight train crawling 
through a long cut that curves around the. hill 
near its base. Suddenly Treat halted, holding 
up his hand and above the train’s rumble I heard 
the hound. Steadily it grew louder and seemed 
to be coming from an opposite direction and 
some distance below us. 
Treat plunged down the hillside, taxing my 
endurance to keep him in sight. By a wave of 
his hand he motioned me to take up my position 
in a clump of bushes, as he headed for a boulder 
near a more difficult and less likely runway be¬ 
yond. Hardly had he reached his position be¬ 
fore fox and hound came along the hillside. 
The fox altered his course, turning downward, 
and I caught but a fleet glimpse of his brush 
as he disappeared in a clump of wild cherry 
bushes along the cut. 
. At this point his trail vanished so completely 
that the dog was unable to pick it up, and after 
a thorough search of the ground, we were 
forced to acknowledge that his disappearance 
was a profound mystery. 
An attempt to start another animal in that 
region would have proved fruitless, so we 
tramped to a distant peak, where Treat assured 
me several foxes found shelter among its rocky 
crevices to rear broods each spring. On the 
way we bagged two birds that whirred across 
our path. 
Trudging through a copse of second growth 
spruce, we stumbled on the steaming remains 
of a half eaten rabbit. The dog darted through 
the timber with his nose to the ground. Know¬ 
ing Reynard would confine the race to the 
bounds of that particular region, we stood for 
some time listening to the dog to determine 
their probable course, then pushed along the 
hillside to head off the fox. They struck an 
old roadway, running over the hilltop and came 
bounding directly toward us. Treat sprang on 
a stump, raised his gun, and fired just as the 
fox wheeled. 
At noon we descended to a brook that winds 
dreamily down a rocky ravine, and building a 
friendship fire on a jutting rock, ate a lunch of 
big sandwiches, and lighting our pipes with the 
glowing end of a stick, stretched out to rest. 
The crackling flames lent an air of cheery com¬ 
fort, and quite naturally we fell to discussing 
our morning’s adventure, soon resolving to re¬ 
turn to the scene. 
Late that afternoon we reached Rifenback 
Hill and a fox was almost immediately started 
near the spring. Evidently he was the same 
one, as he made for a clupip of bushes near the 
railroad cut and disappeared. This remarkable 
display of cunning to our minds showed some¬ 
thing akin to reasoning powers, so we en¬ 
deavored to frame a logical and simple answer 
to the vexing problem, but our efforts were of 
no avail, and we were at last forced by dark¬ 
ness to turn homeward. 
That night I arranged to again visit the hill 
Thanksgiving day, and at early dawn of that 
holiday we tramped toward the hill, undaunted 
by a high wind and flurries of snow. 
We unleashed the dog near the spring, sought 
shelter behind a projecting ledge and huddled 
close to its rocky wall to await developments. 
A long monotonous wait, broken at intervals by 
snatches of conversation, ensued before the first 
faint warning sent us scrambling'up the hillside, 
then down again. The dog came nearer. Now 
up the hill, then down near the cut, they raced 
over the uneven surface. Treat stopped be¬ 
hind a clump of bushes that gave him a good 
view of the runway, while I continued at %ight 
angles to a point on the edge of the cut, where 
I could command a wide burned-over area and 
incidentally a few rods of track. 
I had hardly reached my objective point be¬ 
fore they swept noisily around the clearing. 
Amid a rattle of loose stones they plunged 
downward and the dog’s yelping ceased. Ex¬ 
pecting to hear my comrade’s gun, I stepped 
forward, and in doing so, accidentally glanced 
into the cut, where I saw the fox running easily 
and lightly on the smooth steel rails. The 
discharge of my gun brought Treat to the 
scene. 
“By Jiminy!” he dryly remarked, “that feller 
was a regular Columbus of a fox.” 
Carl S. Shafer. 
