iff their every hair stood on end, they
trembled, they knew not why-it seemed to tingle through their blood and
fill them with instinctive hate and fear. And when she saw its full
effect she told them--

"_That is man-scent_."

[Illustration]

III

Meanwhile the hens continued to disappear. I had not betrayed the den of
cubs. Indeed, I thought a good deal more of the little rascals than I
did of the hens; but uncle was dreadfully wrought up and made most
disparaging remarks about my woodcraft. To please him I one day took
the hound across to the woods and seating myself on a stump on the open
hillside, I bade the dog go on. Within three minutes he sang out in the
tongue all hunters know so well, "Fox! fox! fox! straight away down the
valley."

After awhile I heard them coming back. There I saw the
fox--Scarface--loping lightly across the river-bottom to the stream. In
he went and trotted along in the shallow water near the margin for two
hundred yards, then came out straight toward me. Though in full view, he
saw me not, but came up the hill watching over his shoulder for the
hound. Within ten feet of me he turned and sat with his back to me while
he craned his neck and showed an eager interest in the doings of the
hound. Ranger came bawling along the trail till he came to the running
water, the killer of scent, and here he was puzzled; but there was only
one thing to do; that was by going up and down both banks find where the
fox had left the river.

The fox before me shifted his position a little to get a better view and
watched with a most human interest all the circling of the hound. He was
so close that I saw the hair of his shoulder bristle a little when the
dog came in sight. I could see the jumping of his heart on his ribs,
and the gleam of his yellow eye. When the dog was wholly baulked by the
water trick it was comical to see:--he could not sit still, but rocked
up and down in glee, and reared on his hind feet to get a better view of
the slow-plodding hound. With mouth opened nearly to his ears, though
not at all winded, he panted noisily for a moment, or rather he laughed
gleefully just as a dog laughs by grinning and panting.

Old Scarface wriggled in huge enjoyment as the hound puzzled over the
trail so long that when he did find it, it was so stale he could barely
follow it, and did not feel justified in tonguing on it at all.

As soon as the hound was working up the hill, the fox quietly