made for the spot. If the fox was dead, they enjoyed
the scent of his blood. If only wounded, they went after him with all
speed.

"Sometimes he was overtaken and killed, and sometimes he got into his
burrow in the earth, or in a hollow log, or among the rocks.

"One day, I remember, when I was standing on the outside of the circle,
the fox came in sight. I fired. He gave a shrill bark, and came toward
me. Then he stopped in the snow and fell dead in his tracks. I was a
pretty good shot in those days."

"Poor little fox," said Miss Laura. "I wish you had let him get away."

"Here's one that nearly got away," said Mr. Wood. "One winter's day, I
was chasing him with the hounds. There was a crust on the snow, and the
fox was light, while the dogs were heavy. They ran along, the fox
trotting nimbly on the top of the crust and the dogs breaking through,
and every few minutes that fox would stop and sit down to look at the
dogs. They were in a fury, and the wickedness of the fox in teasing
them, made me laugh so much that I was very unwilling to shoot him."

"You said your steel traps were cruel things, uncle," said Miss Laura.
"Why didn't you have a deadfall for the foxes as you had for the bears?"

"They were too cunning to go into deadfalls. There was a better way to
catch them, though. Foxes hate water, and never go into it unless they
are obliged to, so we used to find a place where a tree had fallen
across a river, and made a bridge for them to go back and forth on. Here
we set snares, with spring poles that would throw them into the river
when they made struggles to get free, and drown them. Did you ever hear
of the fox, Laura, that wanted to cross a river, and lay down on the
bank pretending that he was dead, and a countryman came along, and,
thinking he had a prize, threw him in his boat and rowed across, when
the fox got up and ran away?"

"Now, uncle," said Miss Laura, "you're laughing at me. That couldn't be
true."

"No, no," said Mr. Wood, chuckling; "but they're mighty cute at
pretending they're dead. I once shot one in the morning, carried him a
long way on my shoulders, and started to skin him in the afternoon, when
he turned around and bit me enough to draw blood. At another time I dug
one out of a hole in the ground. He feigned death, I took him up and
threw him down at some distance, and he jumped up and ran into the
woods."

"What other animals did you catch when you were a boy?" asked Mr.
Maxwe