We  tried  to  catch  them  in  traps  there  repeatedly,  but
without  success  :  too  cunning  for  us.  And  I  remember,
that,  one  cloudy  afternoon,  a  fox  made  a  raid  into  the
yard  in  front  of  the  barn,  where  the  hens  were  scratch-
ing (they  were  a  flock  of  Bolton  Grays  we  had  lately
bought),  and,  seizing  chanticleer  himself,  ran  up  towards
the  burrow  in  the  crag.  I  had  seen  him  from  the  win-
dow, and,  catching  down  the  gun,  ran  out,  and,  keeping
in  the  bushes  on  one  sitfe,  worked  up  toward  the  rocks.
Getting  within  ten  or  twelve  rods,  I  peeped  out  through
the  shrubbery.
Instead  of  one,  there  were  three  foxes  before  the  hole ;

and  a  great  scolding  and  palaver  were  going  on.     The

captor  of  the  rooster  didn't  seem  inclined  to  divide  with

the  other  two,  who  were  greatly  scandalized  at  his  stingi-

14


210  THE  RED  FOX.
ness.  But,  after  a  great  deal  of  talk,  he  concluded  to  be
generous ;  and,  laying  down  the  fowl,  they  all  three  fell  to
devouring  it  in  the  greatest  harmony.
Hoping,  at  least,  to  kill  one  of  them,  I  blazed  away.
Quick  as  a  flash,  they  all  dived  into  their  den.  I  ran
up  to  get  the  rooster,  had  got  within  a  yard,  and  was  ac-
tually stooping  to  pick  it  up,  when  one  of  the  foxes  darted
out,  grabbed  the  fowl,  and  darted  in  again.  I  thought
that  was  cheek.
Like  other  sharpers  who  live  by  their  wits,  Reynard
is  frequently  hard  put,  and  often  rabidly  hungry.
