the steep
hillside, the wily creature was off at an easy trot.

The hound did know what he was about. Across the valley, up the ridge,
he worked his sure way, while I held my breath at his accuracy.
Striking the woven circle at the top of the ridge, he began to weave in
and out, back and forth, sniffling and whimpering like a tired child,
beating gradually out into a wider and wider circle, and giving the fox
all the rest it could want, before taking up the lead again and
following on down the trail.

The hound knew what he was about; but so did the fox: the latter,
moreover, taking the initiative, inventing the trick, leading the run,
and so in the end not only escaping the hound, but also vastly widening
the distance between their respective wits and abilities.

I recently witnessed a very interesting instance of this superiority of
the fox. One of the best hunters in my neighborhood, a man widely
known for the quality of his hounds, sold a dog, Gingles, an
extraordinarily fine animal, to a hunter in a near-by town. The new
owner brought his dog down here to try him out.

The hound was sent into the woods and was off in a moment on a warm
trail. But it was not long before the baying ceased, and shortly
after, back came the dog. The new owner was disappointed; but the next
day he returned and started the dog again, only to have the same thing
happen, the dog returning in a little while with a sheepish air of
having been fooled. Over and over the trial was made, when, finally,
the dog was taken back to its trainer as worthless.

Then both men came out with the dog, the trainer starting him on the
trail and following on after him as fast as he could break his way
through the woods. Suddenly, as in the trials before, the baying
ceased, but before the baffled dog had had time to grow discouraged,
the men came up to find him beating distractedly about in a small,
freshly burned area among the bushes, his nose full of strong ashes,
the trail hopelessly lost. With the help of the men the fox was
dislodged, and the dog carried him on in a course that was to his new
owner's entire satisfaction.

The fox jumped into the ashes to save himself. Just so have the swifts
left the hollow trees and taken to my chimney, the phoebe to my pigpen,
the swallow to my barn loft, the vireo to my lilac bush, the screech
owls to my apple trees, the red squirrel for its nest to my ice-house,
and the flat-nosed adder to the sandy