pulling, and scratching, till they rent it all to pieces. Then one
little fellow got hold of a whole hind-leg and ran away to eat it by
himself, and the rest cried out, "Greedy, greedy!" and ran after him
to take it from him; and they scuffled and worried and snarled till
you would have thought that they meant to eat each other up as well as
the rabbit. But it was only play, though rough play, for Foxes are
rough fellows; and all the time the old Vixen sat on her haunches
smiling and saying, "That's my little Cubs! that's my little Cubs!"

Then the Hind and Calf passed on, and she led him into a great deep
wood of oak-coppice, where there was hardly a tree that was not oak,
except now and again a mountain-ash. And they passed through the
bright silver stems of the young trees and under the heavy foliage of
the old ones; till they saw a mountain-ash shake its golden berries
over their heads, and came to a hollow where a tiny stream came
trickling down, almost hidden among hart's-tongues. There she laid him
down; and this wood was their new home.

Soon after, the dry weather came to an end, and the South-West wind
came laden with rain from the sea. But the Hind and Calf lay sheltered
in the wood, and heard the wind singing above them, and saw the scud
drifting slowly in great columns down the valley. They roamed far
through the wood, for it seemed to cover the valley's side for miles,
and he watched her as she looked about for ivy, which was her
favourite food, and envied her when she reared up to pluck some
tempting morsel hanging from the oak trees. Nor would he let her have
all the good things to herself, for he would nuzzle at the green
leaves between her lips and pretend to enjoy them greatly.

A very happy peaceful life it was, for they were never disturbed,
though occasionally they saw company. They had not been there but very
few days, when very early in the morning they saw the old Vixen come
stealing into the wood with a Cub in her mouth. She looked so weary
and footsore, that though deer do not like rough, unmannerly creatures
such as foxes, which feed on flesh, the Hind could not help saying,
"Why, Mrs. Vicky, you look dreadfully tired."

But the Vixen hardly turned her head, and then only to answer very
roughly, "No, I am not tired, I am not tired," though after a time she
added "thank you" in rather a surly tone; for in Devon nobody is
altogether uncivil. And she went plodding on.

"Have they been dist