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 One December morning, about two weeks after his rescue from the pack by Kitty Mason, Redcoat ventured across the river. The mice had become scarce on the east side and there were always plenty on the west side. These meadows were elliptical in shape, resting in a great bend of the river. They were two miles long and a mile in width. Close to the river for the entire distance there was a fringe of bushes about a hundred feet deep. This was the only cover on the meadows, and even this cover had half a dozen gaps in it and it was at these gaps that the fox hunters always took their stand. When the foxes were started out on the meadows they usually ran in the open for a while. The meadow was slightly undulating in places, but most of it was very level. This made and snarling up the track very dangerous on the part of the foxes, for the hounds would often see them half a mile away and cut across the labyrinth of trail that the fox had been several minutes in making, so sooner or later the foxes always took to the cover along

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 the river's edge and here they could not run for more than thirty or forty rods without encountering one of the hunters at a gap in the bushes.

As ill luck would have it, the Meadowdale Fox Club had gone hunting on the west side of the river this morning. They had temporarily given up trying to capture the Phantom Fox after his two miraculous disappearances.

But, on this morning the hounds started the old rogue on the west side and for an hour he gave them a lively race, back and forth over the meadows, going in large circles, but even so the hounds cut across on him several times and he was soon hard pressed. He had seen no hunters with their thunder sticks but felt intuitively they were waiting for him in the cover close to the river. Finally, he was so hard pressed that he entered the bushes warily at the south end but he had not gone two hundred feet when his good nose told him there was danger ahead and peering out from the bushes he saw a man with the thunder stick stand-

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 ing upon an old log commanding the open spot perfectly. Immediately in front of the man was a fringe of low bushes three or four feet high over which he was peering. This was Redcoat's only chance to cross. He hesitated for a moment but the cry of the pack behind was getting dangerously close to him, so he crept cautiously forward and passed the waiting hunter in the underbrush, going within twenty feet of him, so quietly that the hunter heard not a sound. A few minutes later, when the hounds came out of the cover and trailed the fox almost under the man's nose he was thunderstruck and could not believe they were on the right scent until he went into the bushes and found the fresh fox track. Meanwhile, Redcoat had again taken to the meadows and was running northward as fast as his fleet limbs could carry him. Away at the northern end of the meadow the city extended almost down to the river, and here the railroad crossed upon one bridge and automobiles, teams and foot passengers on another bridge a hundred feet further north.

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 As Redcoat raced back across the meadows, the pack in full cry behind him, he saw first the slender trail over which the great thunderer crossed the river and the other bridge above it.

Ordinarily the ice on the river would have been several inches thick, but this morning it had been just strong enough to hold Redcoat when he had crossed and as the water was rising the ice had entirely broken up in two hours' time and there was no chance of returning to his beloved mountain by crossing on the ice.

As Redcoat came to the north end of the meadow he noted the trail by which the thunderer crossed and the thought came to him there was a way over, yet in order to reach it he would have to run almost into the haunts of men. He could see them passing on the traffic bridge above the railroad bridge, and over the city was the chimney smoke of hundreds of houses. It was a great chance, but the pack was now only about a hundred yards away. Then, on the clear morning air, plainly heard above all

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 other sounds, came the long shriek that the thunderer made when crossing the trails of men, and Redcoat plainly saw in the distance the trail of smoke that the thunderer always left in passing.

Did the red fox think this all out carefully, the time it would take him to reach the bridge and cross, and the time it would take the thunderer to reach it and the pack also, or rather was it just an intuition, a daring chance that he took, just as he had gambled with life so many times before? One look back at the pack decided Redcoat and he raced for the railroad bridge with a great burst of speed. Foot passengers crossing on the other bridge stopped and watched excitedly to see the beautiful fox trotting rapidly over the bridge, and they were still more amazed when the pack, a dozen strong, reached the end of the bridge and followed after the intrepid fox. Redcoat himself was two-thirds of the way across and the pack a third of the way across when the train reached the bridge. Then there was a great tooting of the whistle

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 and a clanging of the bell and a shouting of excited men and boys on the foot bridge as one by one with yelps of fear the hounds leaped into the river. Most of them leaped before the engine struck them and those that didn't were brushed off without being hurt as the train was running very slowly. As Redcoat reached the further end of the bridge he looked back for a moment and saw that the thunderer had swept the last of his enemies, the fox hounds, into the river and was now coming after him. So, belly to earth, he galloped away over the meadows on his own side of the river to his safe refuge on the mountainside.

A member of the Meadowdale Fox Club who was watching him through a glass said as he looked back over his shoulder at the discomforted pack he grinned like a Cheshire cat, but I am afraid the hunter distorted the fox's countenance to suit his own whim and to make the achievement of Redcoat seem even more diabolical. But, one thing was certain; never again would this particular pack of hounds be persuaded,

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 either by coaxing or threat, to follow the trail of the Phantom Fox. They had had enough of a fox who could summon the thunderer to his aid and sweep them into the river in that way. Ordinary foxes they did not mind running, but this one was not for them.

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Y the time Redcoat was four years old he had reached his greatest size and weight. He had been just as tall and rangy when he was two years old, but not so heavy. Also his greatest cunning and knowledge of the ways of men had come to him by this time.

The three futile attempts of the Meadowdale Fox Club the Autumn before had so discouraged the hunters that they had left Redcoat very much to himself during the following winter. He had given other hounds some lively runs, but he always had been able to dismiss them whenever he was tired of the game so it had been just an amusing farce. Because of this fact, Redcoat's confidence that had been partly shaken in the Fall had all came back to him.

With his achievements of the Autumn be-

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 fore (and the hunters themselves had so added to his achievements when they gathered in their clubroom on winter evenings to spin yarns) he had well earned the title of the Phantom Fox.

Very early in the Spring there had come to the Meadow City a Virginian named Harold Denby. He was a daredevil cross-country rider, descended from an old Virginia family which had hunted foxes on horseback ever since the settlement of the colony.

As soon as the Virginian arrived in the Meadow City he was given a great banquet at the Meadowdale Fox Club. For several days previous Denby had been fed up on stories of the Phantom Fox, and at the club he heard much more about him. Accordingly, the Virginian Fox hunter's curiosity was aroused and with it was born an ambition to lead the Meadowdale Fox Club to a capture of the great Redcoat. After the banquet was over plans were formulated for another hunt which should be carried on in the true Virginian style. All of the best

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 horses in the Meadow City were brought into action. These included ten fine polo ponies and as many more saddle and running horses from the different driving schools in the city. Some of these horses were also great high jumpers and had taken prizes at the fairs. Their riders were men who were used to hard riding upon polo fields and cross country. An entirely new pack was secured for this venture. And, with a dozen dogs and twenty mounted men the cavalcade set off one bright morning about the middle of March to capture the Phantom Fox. It was really a great show of force for so small an objective. Each one of the hounds was four times as heavy as the fox, while the horses were eighty or ninety times heavier than he. Besides, the cunning of twenty men was to be matched against the cunning of one red fox. Truly it was an uneven battle, but the battle is not always to the strong. For several days before the celebrated hunt, heavy spring rains had been falling. The great river was full to its banks and in some places overflowed the

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 meadows, making small lagoons and ponds. Water stood in many of the hollows. But, two days previous to the hunt, winter conditions had returned to the land and all of the pools were skimmed over with anchor ice, while the ground on this clear, crisp March morning was as hard as steel. It was a wonderful morning for the chase for both hounds and horsemen. There were no crops in the meadows or on the uplands and conditions were ideal for the run.

Redcoat had been molested very little during the winter by hounds or hunters and he was quite confident that he could outrun or outwit any pack of hounds that ever trailed a fox. The three marvelous escapes he experienced the Fall before he had attributed to his own cunning instead of rare good fortune and this tended to increase his confidence, so ever since the snow had disappeared early in March he had prowled about the farms at will, barking defiance at the farm dogs whenever he saw them.

On the morning in question, he had gone around to the west side of the mountain and

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 was reconnoitring the farms that lay in the valley parallel to the river. As in the other great hunts, the hounds took his track at the roadway which paralleled the river and the hunt was on. Twelve of the horsemen followed the pack and in addition to the deep baying of the hounds there was the sound of hoofs of the flying horses. The other eight horsemen were stationed in the roadway at intervals of about forty rods to head Redcoat off should he turn back towards the mountain. The plan was to run him down in the area between the road and the river, so the amphitheatre upon which this tragedy was to be inacted was about three miles long and from a mile to a mile and a half wide.

Redcoat was not at all dismayed when he heard the pack break into full cry on his trail. It was a glorious morning for a run. The clear cold air made the blood tingle in his veins and his muscles contracted and recoiled like steel springs. Belly to earth he ran for the entire length of the arena and the straining hounds and the racing horse-

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 men gained only a little on him. Then, he turned to the north, thinking to come back to the point where he had been started and then cross the road to the mountain. It was a glorious chase but the pace was terrific and he did not want to keep it up too long. But, the eight horsemen in the roadway heard the hounds coming and as the country was very open they also saw the fox; so they formed in readiness for him. As Redcoat swept down upon the highway, running like the wind, the men all shouted and waved their caps and turned him back southward. Redcoat was much surprised that the men did not use their thunder sticks, as in the excitement he had run very close to them before he had discovered them; but he could see no thunder sticks, and in fact the men were not carrying firearms. Denby had insisted upon this, saying that it must be a fair race in the open and if the fox could get away by his wits or his fleetness he should be given a fair chance.

So Redcoat raced away to the southward

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 again, with the hounds and the frantically galloping horses in hot pursuit. This time on the three mile lap they cut down his lead by nearly half, so when he turned back northward they were only about eighty rods behind. It was a terrific pace. Redcoat had never known hounds to run so before. In fact, this was a special pack noted for its fleetness, imported from Virginia for this chase. Behind the dogs were the men and the galloping horses urging the hounds forward. Thus it happened on the return three miles the dogs and horsemen cut the distance in half and Redcoat was only forty rods ahead when the horsemen in the roadway again headed him back southward. Oh, but it was desperate running! If he could only stop for five minutes and rest, but he could not for the pack and the thundering cavalcade were all after him. When he reached the southern end of the run again he was only twenty rods ahead, so he dashed into a small pine woods to see if he could gain a little by running among the trees. This ruse did help him and when he

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 came out of the woods and once more headed northward he had regained the lost twenty rods and was once more leading by a furlong. But, the terrific pace was telling on him. His tongue was out and his brush was down, while his breath came in hard quick pants. It seemed to the straining fox that his heart must burst with the effort as he raced back northward with the hounds and the men gaining steadily upon him. He must break through the cordon in the roadway and get back to the mountain or they would surely catch him. As he neared the highway, the men divined his intent and the horsemen behind spurred forward to overtake him, while the men on the highway once again set up a great shouting to drive him back. In his confusion, Redcoat's wits seemed to forsake him. He completely lost his head and turned and ran straight towards the river. The eight horsemen who up to this time had waited to drive him back from the road now joined the rest of the party and the twenty mounted men and the hounds swept down to

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 the river in a great semicircle, and poor Redcoat saw his only way of escape cut off, and in his desperation he ran out on a point of land that jutted well out into the river. There he stood panting and trembling, watching the oncoming hounds and the horsemen. They were too close upon him and too near together to try to break through their ranks, so he stood watching, impotent and fascinated by the danger that menaced him. When the hounds were a hundred feet away and the men two hundred, Redcoat remembered the river behind him. In times past it had often been his friend. Several times he had crossed on the thin ice where hounds could not follow, but there was no ice now; only a turbulent dark flood, foam flecked, and angry with the spring rains. If he had been fresh he might have swum the river under these conditions, but spent as he was the water did not look as terrible to him as did the horsemen and the hounds, so he whirled and plunged bravely into the river, while the pack swept down and out upon the point to see the fox fifty

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 feet away swimming feebly on the dark water. Soon the horsemen were all lined up behind the yelping hounds to behold the tragic end of this wonderful red fox who had given them such a marvelous run.

But, fate and Mother Nature were kinder than the men and the pack, for when Redcoat was about two hundred feet from the shore, and his strength was all but gone, he noticed something floating down in the current just above him. He lifted his weary head and discovered a plank about ten feet long and two feet wide drifting rapidly towards him. He stopped swimming until it floated almost under his nose, then he wearily put out his forepaws and with great exertion climbed upon it. At this sight a great shout went up from the watching horsemen on shore and one of their number pulled out a revolver and began shooting at the fox.

"Here, here, Bill," cried Denby, "put up your shooting iron and let's play the game squarely. I stipulated we should not carry firearms and we'll stick to that agreement."

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 "That's so," chorused a half a dozen riders. "We'll play fair."

"I've seen many a great fox hunt in Virginia," said Denby, "but I never saw such a run as this. He's not a fox at all, he's a moose."

"If a man had the courage and strength for his size that that fox has," put in Billy Perkins the crack polo player, "he could eat up the world. Boys, I take off my hat to him."

"Well, he escaped us," said another member of the polo team, "but the rapids in the river below will get him. He never can run the rapids on that plank."

"There is something else that is going to get the whole of us," said Denby. "See that cloud yonder, boys." Even as he spoke a patter of hail was heard on the ground about them. This storm had been making up for the last half hour and was one of those sudden spring downfalls. With one accord the horsemen turned and trotted away, whistling for the hounds to follow, while little Redcoat drifted on his

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 plank towards the rapids that all had said would engulf him. But here once again fate and nature were kinder than men, for the downfall of sleet that had sent the horsemen scurrying to cover, froze upon Redcoat's coat and for the time being froze him to the plank almost as though he had been glued down.

Redcoat was not as much afraid of the river as he had been of the horsemen and hounds, so he crouched with his nose on his paws and watched the swirling water, while his plank swept on to the rapids. Presently he was in among the eddying swirling currents, where dark rocks reared their menacing heads and white foam danced on the swirling water. He went so rapidly and the plank changed its position so often that it made him dizzy. He would be rushing straight at a rock with every seeming chance of striking it but just at the right moment the current would suck the little bark clear of the rock and it would go rushing on. The rapids were about two miles in length, but it seemed to Redcoat that he was

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 a very long time traveling through them; it was really only twelve or fifteen minutes, but it seemed much longer than the two hours' run he had made before the hounds. But all hard things come to an end for those who have courage and endure. A good fighter usually sees the end of the battle. So Redcoat's plank finally swept out of the last of the whirlpools into comparatively calm water, and a quarter of a mile further down stream it lodged upon an island. When Redcoat first tried to free himself from the plank he found he could not move, but after half an hour his body heat thawed the frozen sleet upon his belly and he was enabled to go ashore on the island. Here he hid in the underbrush and rested for the balance of the day, and just before night closed down he swam ashore at a point where the island was not far from the mainland and the following day he made his way cautiously back to his mountain. His confidence was somewhat shaken and he was not eager for another run before the hounds and horsemen. But, once again he made

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 the fatal mistake of believing that it was his own great cunning and fleetness that had saved him and not a bit of rare good fortune.

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T was nearly a week after the famous chase and Redcoat's miraculous escape down the river before the Meadowdale Fox Club could again start the Phantom Fox. In the meantime they had started and run down and caught two other foxes. In each case, the run had been much shorter and less spectacular than that Redcoat had made. Some of the old hunters thought he had left the country but Denby said not so, for he knew that it is almost an impossibility to drive a cunning old fox from his favorite range.

The next time they started Redcoat it was to the north of his mountain, and once again the horsemen employed the same tactics as before. A part of their number were deployed along the highway parallel to the mountain, while the hounds and the balance

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 of the horsemen were left free to run Redcoat in the open land further to the north. This time Redcoat led the chase four miles to the east, keeping perhaps half a mile from the roadway and the men on the highway followed in the road paralleling his course, feeling sure that he would sooner or later try to cross to the mountain. But, he came back for the entire distance to the Holcome farm before he attempted to make the crossing to the mountain, but here he found the horsemen spread out and waiting for him. In fact, they had been able to follow his run for the better part of the way and had seen him several times in the distance racing across the open fields. So, Redcoat had to turn back eastward again and go all over the eight weary miles. It was much warmer on this day than it had been during the first run. This made the running harder on both the fox and his pursuers. By the time Redcoat had once more reached the Holcome farm he had covered nearly sixteen miles and was all but spent. He must do something; either he must shake off his

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 pursuers or get by the men in the roadway and thus escape to his mountain. Once again he tried the highway, but the horsemen were there waiting for him, shouting and waving their caps, so he turned back to the north. Redcoat had always made it a part of his policy to know every rod of the country over which he hunted and where he led the hounds on these wild chases, so there was not a square rod of the Holcome farm that he did not know nearly as well as did Bud Holcome himself. A quarter of a mile north of the Holcome farm buildings was an old stone wall, a boundary fence that divided the Holcome farm from that of their nearest neighbor. When Redcoat reached the southern end of this wall his pursuers were barely a furlong away. His plight was getting desperate. Something must be done, and his sharp fox wits never stood him in better stead than they did on this memorable chase, for when the hounds came up to the stone wall they followed it for about thirty rods northward and then at a barway, an artificial break in the stone wall,

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 the trail suddenly ended. The hounds ran about sniffing the ground and yelping excitedly, and when the horsemen came up they all thought surely that the fox had holed, but they searched under the stone wall in every direction but could find no trace of him. Finally, after an hour's futile searching, they gave up the chase and went home completely baffled by the sudden disappearance of the Phantom Fox.

Three days later they started the celebrated fox once again on the north side of the mountain. As before, he led them away for four miles to the east and turning came back to the Holcome farm. Here he again tried to cross the highway to the mountain but was turned back. So, he went over the long hard run of four miles to the eastward again. When he once more returned to the Holcome farm the men and the hounds were close upon him and they thought surely that the pack would run him down in a very few minutes. Once again the crafty old fox circled to the Southern end of the stone wall and again the pack followed the trail up to

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 the mysterious barway and lost it as before. Again the horsemen searched the country for twenty rods around trying to help the pack to pick up the scent, but without success. So the chase was again called off. Before the hunters started for town, Denby and his party stopped at the Holcome farm and impressed Bud for the next hunt. He was not to take part in the chase but was to watch from a tree some twenty rods from the barway and see where the Phantom Fox went, for Denby felt certain that he would try again this ruse that had worked so perfectly on the two previous hunts.

Two days later the Phantom Fox, who had now become the talk of the countryside, was again started to the north of his mountain. He seemed afraid to venture to the west for fear he would again be caught in the death trap between the pursuers and the river. The running was not as good as it had been the time before as it was getting warmer all the while, and on this day the ground was not so hard, but still it was a glorious morning for a run.

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 Promptly as the hounds gave the signal, that the chase was on, Bud Holcome took up a commanding position in the spreading chestnut tree about twenty rods from the barway, where Redcoat had done his disappearance act for two successive runs. Bud's conscience was not quite clear about taking part in the hunt as he had promised Kitty Mason he would not shoot or trap the fox, but with this arrangement he was only a looker-on, besides he had a great curiosity to see where the fox did go as the whole matter was inexplicable to him. Bud had participated in many fox hunts, but never before from the side lines. In other hunts he had been right in the thick of the battle. He had carried a gun and been as eager as anyone to get the fox, but now he saw the hunt for the first time as a spectator, without prejudice.

As in the two runs before, Redcoat took the baying pack and the galloping horsemen four miles to the east and then returned to the Holcome farm. When he came back Bud got a good view of him. He saw him

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 for an eighth of a mile running belly to earth, leading his pursuers in a wonderful run, and for the first time in his life Bud noted how small the fox was in comparison with his pursuers, even the tall gaunt hounds looked gigantic compared with him, and they were all pursuing him so desperately. To them it was just a jolly bit of fun, or manly sport, but to Redcoat it was a desperate life and death game. Bud could not but be impressed with his courage and the great fight he was making for his life. Could he, Bud Holcome, put up such a fight for his own life? Once again the hounds and the horsemen disappeared to the eastward and they were gone much longer than before. Bud began to think they had caught him at last, when he heard the hounds coming back. Finally he discovered poor Redcoat loping along with his tail down, and his whole aspect denoting utter fatigue. The hounds also were badly fagged out and the horses, covered with sweat and lather, were following at a dog trot. The race had told upon all, pursuer and pursued were all but "in."

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 As Bud saw the cunning old fox make for the south end of the stone wall where he had run the days before, a great sense of pity came over Bud. He experienced his first attack of what hunters call "Buck fever." It was not sport that he was witnessing. It was tragedy. A great cowardly lot of men and dogs were running the life out of a little red fox in order that they might squabble over his brush at the end of the chase.

But here Bud's thoughts were interrupted, as he was intently watching to see if he could discover the ruse of the Phantom Fox. As he had expected, the fox disappeared at the southern end of the wall, and Bud knew that he was running on the ground on the further side where he could not see him. Presently he appeared at the barway, but Bud was wholly unprepared for the next move. For he jumped wearily upon the wall and started trotting briskly northward. Bud gave a surprised cry of wonder and disgust.

"Oh, that will never do old chap," he said

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 aloud. "The hounds will pick up the track when you jump off."

But Bud had forgotten the Leaning Pine, as that curious tree was called on the Holcome farm. It was a queer pine which stood against the wall about twenty-five rods above the barway. It leaned so sharply that everyone had wondered why the wind did not blow it down, but it had stood wind and weather for perhaps a hundred years.

In a very few seconds Redcoat had covered the distance to the tree, and without even breaking his trot, he scrambled up the rough bark and in five seconds' time was completely hidden from the boy's curious gaze in the bushy top of the tree. Bud burst into a roar of laughter. The ruse was complete. The wall would give off little scent and the hunters would never dream of looking in the tree for anything but a racoon. Then a great sense of Bud's own responsibility came to him. He was to be the traitor. He was the one who would finally spill Redcoat's blood and give the Meadowdale Club his much coveted brush. Then he remembered

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 the great fight the old fox had made and how small he was compared with his enemies, who at this point appeared in the distance; first the pack and then the horsemen, and a sudden resolve came to Bud. He would not betray the fox, but he would have to use his wits in order to mislead the club. He would have to be as resourceful as the fox himself, "foxy" in fact. But they would never get the truth from him no matter what they said to him. With this resolve, Bud climbed down the tree and went to meet the hunters.

"Well, Holcome, where did he go?" cried Denby excitedly, riding up, closely followed by a half dozen other members of the club.

"Ask me something I can tell you," replied Bud guardedly.

"Did you see him run as far as the south end of the wall?" questioned Denby.

"Yes, I did," replied Bud, "but then I lost him for a spell. He must have run on the other side of the stone wall."

"Just so," returned the Virginian. "The dogs trailed him on that side, but did you not see him at the barway?"

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 "I got a flash of something red which looked like a fox," said Bud.

"Didn't he come through the field this way?" inquired another member of the club.

"No," said Bud. "I am sure he didn't come this way."

"Did he go through the field beyond the fence?" inquired another.

"No," returned Bud. "I am sure he did not."

"Well, where in the dickens did he go?" queried Denby.

"Ask me something easy," said Bud. "He is certainly a sly fellow."

"It is just as I have said all the time," put in Denby. "He has got a hole under the wall somewhere. Boys we have got to search the wall more carefully. Call in the pack and let's go at it systematically."

For half an hour the men and dogs searched the wall, going almost as far as the Leaning Pine. Once when one of the members looked up into the top of the queer tree, Bud's heart gave a jump of excitement. But the hunter soon went back to his

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 inspection of the wall. They pulled out many loose stones at the bottom of the wall, while the hounds sniffed eagerly at each new opening. Bud was afraid that some dog, more inquisitive than his fellows, might climb upon the wall, but none did. But even so, Bud doubted if they would have discovered the clue, as the sun was now quite hot, and the stones would not give off much scent. Finally, after half an hour, the horsemen rode away. Denby stopped and hailed Bud with a departing shot.

"We won't want you next time," he said. "We will get one of our own members to watch. We want a man who has got eyes in his head."

"All right," returned Bud, but he felt it was far from a good arrangement, for he was quite sure that since Redcoat had so successfully worked this cunning ruse three times, he would try it again and be discovered. What an ignoble end for the cunning old fox, to be treed like a stupid racoon, and then shot upon his perch, or poled off for the hounds to kill. It was an unworthy end

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 for the cleverest fox who ever led hounds upon a wild goose chase. Something must be done to prevent it, but what? Bud himself felt utterly powerless, yet something must be done.

That night, when Bud went in to supper, he found a letter beside his plate on the supper table which added greatly to his resolve to do something to save Redcoat from his impending doom. The letter was from a friend, one Mr. Jennings, the manager and part owner of the Sheerfield Silver Fox Farm, forty miles further up the river. Mr. Jennings was a friend of the family, and Bud had several times visited at the farm. The letter read as follows:

"Dear Bud: Do you remember the blue foxes which I had just received from Alaska when you were here last? Well they are looking fine, and I think raising them is going to be a success. For years I have had a dream of crossing these blues with our ordinary red fox, and I am now in need of a fine male specimen of the red fox. Whatever became of that clever red fox which

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 you were telling me of when you were here? I wish I had him alive and sound to cross with my blues. Bud, I am quite excited about this project. So much so, that I will give you five hundred dollars cash for him if you will capture him alive and deliver him to me. I should want him very soon as the mating season is rapidly passing."

Bud stopped at this point to read the letter over again. Five hundred dollars. He could scarcely believe his eyes. But there it was in cold type. Why, that would be money enough with what he could earn to start him in college, and this was the dream of his life! What a chance, but what a condition! To trap Redcoat and deliver him safe and sound, why one might as well try to trap the West Wind. He had already tried all sorts of traps and had failed in each instance. But the balance of the letter gave Bud a clue, so he read on.

"I do not know just how this is to be done, but here is a suggestion. The blue foxes on the farms in Alaska are trapped in large wire box traps, but of course the blue is

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 quite different from the red, and much more simple, and far less cunning. But I will leave it to you Bud. I am in hopes you will find a way."

Bud folded the letter carefully and put it in his pocket, and after supper he went out to the harness room in the barn and took down a half pint bottle. It had stood there on a beam in the room for two years and he had not looked at it for several months, but now it held a great interest for the excited boy. It was a strange dark liquid which an old trapper from Canada had given him two years before. It was supposed to be a sort of fox charm. A medicine which would cause foxes to lose all their natural suspicion and cunning and follow this charm into any trap. Bud never had believed in the charm, but now it was his only chance. Perhaps it would work. The vile smelling stuff was compounded of beaver caster, the oil of anise seed and several other equally rank smelling substances. Perhaps it might smell good to a fox, but it made the boy fairly gag as he took a good whiff of it.

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 "Well," he said as he corked up the bottle, "it is a long shot, but I am going to try it. It is the only chance I have got to save the red fox and at the same time help myself."

"But you promised Kitty not to trap Redcoat," said the still small voice.

"Well," retorted Bud, "this is not trapping him in the usual sense, besides it is getting him out of the way for his own good. I am sure that Kitty would approve if I were to explain to her."

For a couple of hours Bud's family heard him hammering away in the barn and when he finally came in and went to bed Mr. Holcome could only elicit from him that he had been making something. But the something that he had made was a large box trap, three feet long, two feet high, and twenty inches wide. It was all complete even to the spindle and Bud had hidden it in the hayloft, and as he went to bed he set his alarm clock for four o'clock. He would be up and away to the mountain long before the rest of the family were astir. It was a

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 wild goose chase anyhow, and he did not want his father to laugh at him, as he would surely do if he knew. It was his secret and he intended to keep it well.

Shortly after four o'clock the following morning, Bud started for the mountain carrying the heavy box trap on his shoulder. In his pocket he also had the bottle of fox charm, and fifteen feet of inch rope wound around his waist. He was wearing the most disreputable pair of shoes that he could find on the place, the reason for which will appear later.

Although the trap was made of inch pine board, yet it was rather heavy and Bud often set it down to rest as he climbed the steeper places on the mountain. Finally after half an hour he arrived at the clump of spruces where he knew Redcoat had his headquarters. He had never found the den, in fact he did not much care where it was so long as he set the trap somewhere near it. He finally discovered just the place he wanted. It was a clump of bushes not too thick and he placed the box trap in their midst. Then

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 he cut a dozen or more pine boughs, perhaps three feet long, and stuck these up in the ground around the box trap, until when he had finished it was entirely hidden in the little pine bower. He then littered the bottom of the trap with pine needles, until it was as green as the carpet of the ancient wood. Then he fastened a chicken head to the spindle of the trap, drew up the door by the cord which past through the upright at the end of the trap, and carefully adjusted the trigger at the back side. But, previous to this, with a small brush which he had brought for the purpose, he had generously painted the inside of the trap with the fox charm. The chicken head on the spindle fairly reeked with it. But, strangest of all, at least it would seem strange to Redcoat, Bud had stopped half way up the mountain and smeared the bottom of his shoes with the obnoxious fox charm. When he had finished setting the trap, he uncoiled the inch rope from his waist and smeared it from end to end with the obnoxious fluid. Then, after recoating his shoes with the same vile smel-

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 ling stuff, he started for a ten minute walk out and in among the spruces and through the thickets where Redcoat would be most likely to go. The fox charm was so pungent that Bud could actually follow his own back track merely from his sense of smell. Surely Redcoat could not miss this trail, if the charm had any such alluring power for foxes as it was said to possess. Then Bud returned to the trap and poured the remaining contents of the bottle on the rope and started on his return trip down the mountain. Half a mile from home he hung the rope up in a tree, deposited the empty bottle in a crevice in the rocks, and took off his shoes and hid them. He knew it would never do to return home with such a scent upon his person.

Bud was so excited that he could scarcely work that day. All the time he was thinking of his plans and wondering if the fox charm would work. The capture of Redcoat meant so much, not only to the fox himself but also to Bud.

On this same morning, while Bud Hol-

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 come was making his preparations down at the farm, Redcoat arose from a little glade where he had been sleeping, yawned, shook himself, and started down the mountain. He was going on a hunting expedition, presumably for mice, but would take anything that happened to come his way.

A couple of hours later, while Bud was doing the barn chores, Redcoat returned to his lair. Half way up the mountain he discovered Bud's tracks. But, Oh, what a trail it was! He had never smelled anything like it before in his whole life. True, there was a strong suggestion of the man scent about it, but it was overpowered by a strange, ravishing odor, which made Redcoat's nerves tingle and his heart to beat fast with excitement. He followed the trail rapidly up the mountain, becoming more mystified and more obsessed by it with each rod he covered.

Was it a man-trail? Yes. But no. It could not be, for when had the scent of man so filled a fox with delight, making his nerves to tingle with a mad incomprehensi-

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 ble joy, which seemed to extend even to the tip of the tail? When he finally struck the heavily scented trail made by the dragging rope, his eyes flashed and saliva dripped from his jaws. After that he could not go fast enough. Once he stopped at a point where Bud had replenished the odorous stuff on his shoes, and rolled on the ground where the scent was strongest, rubbing his face backward and forward, but he did not tarry long for the reeking charm grew stronger with each rod covered. When he finally reached the clump of bushes where the trap was set, the last shred of his natural suspicion and fox cunning had been lulled to sleep. The only thing in the world he knew or felt was this ravishing scent about him. He wanted to roll in it, to swim in it, to draw it into his nostrils for the rest of his life.

But all the time he had been trotting eagerly up the mountain on Bud's trail, something had suggested caution to him. The guardian of the wild creatures had whispered again and again, "beware, beware."

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 But Redcoat did not heed the sound; it was only the wind.

But now as he paused before the trap, this warning became even more insistent. Even the trees, the ferns and the bushes seemed to cry "beware," until poor Redcoat was nearly distraught with the contending forces that were pulling this way and that upon his life.

For perhaps a full minute Redcoat groveled upon his belly before the trap. The trap which all his senses and his instinct and his fox cunning told him was a trap, while the trees, bushes and ferns all held their breath. The spirit of the woods, that gentle custodian of the wild things, again cried "go back," but Redcoat did not hear her, or if he did he did not heed the warning. Finally the resistance of his will to the overpowering fox charm went down and he crawled, still groveling upon his belly, into the trap, his jaws dripping saliva, and trembling in every muscle. His suspicions were entirely put to sleep, and his splendid native cunning was for the time being dormant.

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 He did not catch the chicken's head on the spindle in his mouth, as he would have done ordinarily if he had been hungry, but instead he rubbed his cheek against it. Bang, went the heavy door of the box trap, and it was suddenly dark in the little house that Bud Holcome's ingenuity had devised for him. With the click of the spring bolt, with which Bud had equipped the trap, a sudden realization came over Redcoat as to what had happened. With a frightened snarl he sprang up, striking his head against the top of the trap. Then began a series of mad springs against first one end and then the other of the strong little house in which he was a prisoner. This lasted intermittently for half an hour, then Redcoat lay down upon the floor, with his head upon his paws, to think. To see, if he could collect his scattered wits and make sure what had happened to him. He lay with his head as far away as possible from the chicken head which reeked with the obnoxious fox charm. For, from being the most ravishing odor he

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 had ever smelled, this scent had in an instant become the most obnoxious smell he knew of.

There was no mistaking the one who had done this thing. It was the same man creature he had seen so often upon the farm. The one he knew best of all. The man who had caught his paw in the strange trap which he had hidden in the river. The one who had caught his tongue on the railroad track and then had pointed the thunder stick at him. The one who had come so near to getting him on several occasions. He had known all the time that it was he whom he was following. His unmistakable scent was in every footprint up the side of the mountain. The box trap fairly reeked with it, now Redcoat had gotten his sense back and smelled with his old keen intelligence. Yes, it was he who had caught him in this strange house. A house which did not hurt him, but simply held him and did not let him go. That dreadful man had taken away his wits by this horrible smelling stuff. He had caused him to lose all his

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 reason and then he had gone into the trap.

Again Redcoat tried the little house at every corner, but there was no escape, so he finally lay down to await his fate. He was not beaten. He was not badly cowed, only a dreadful fear gripped him at times, and this made him weak and sick. Yet he did not give up as some other wild animals would have done. He would wait and watch. At the first ray of light from any corner of the trap he would be waiting to dash forth and escape. If he ever got free, he would run so far and so fast they would never find him again. This country where men came and went so freely, where the Thunderer rushed by each day, was too noisy and too dangerous. He would find a new range far from the haunts of men.

Of course, Redcoat's thoughts were not as concrete as this, but there was born within him, while he waited in the trap, a great repulsion for the haunts and ways of men. They were too dangerous. A poor fox could not hope to escape amid such dangers.

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 Ordinarily Bud would not have visited the trap until the following morning, as it is not well to watch a trap too closely once it is set, but that same evening he had an errand on the mountain. Perhaps he made the fact that he was on the mountain searching for sassafras wood for a new bow the excuse for looking at the trap. This was no common trapping event. If successful it meant five hundred dollars.

Bud could scarce believe his eyes when he came in sight of the thicket where he had set the trap and discovered it was sprung. In fact, he did really rub his eyes and look again, but there was no mistaking the fact. The door of the trap showed plainly and it was down. Then Bud caught himself up short and chuckled. He must not get excited. It was just a fool skunk, or perhaps a rabbit had sprung the trap. There was not one chance in a hundred that he had caught the Phantom Fox at the very first try with the box trap. Bud approached the trap at a quick pace and lifted it cautiously. My, but it was heavy. That was not a

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 skunk; besides there was no skunk smell. Then Bud pulled out the spindle at the back of the trap and kneeling down peeked into the trap. To his great surprise and joy he was looking straight into the yellow eyes of a fox, and judging from his size it was the Phantom Fox. Yes, he had caught the sly old chap, but it was not because of any cleverness on his part. It was the fox charm that had done the trick.

Bud started slowly down the mountain with the trap on his shoulder. If the trap had been heavy when he brought it up, it was doubly heavy now, but Bud took his time. In fact, he did not want to appear in the valley carrying the box trap on his shoulder until after dark. He was afraid some one would see him and want to know what he had caught. The capture of the Phantom Fox was to be his secret. He would tell Kitty, but no one else must ever know. It would add even more to the mystery surrounding the celebrated fox if he simply "faded" from sight.

Bud made the trip home without encoun-

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 tering any of his curious neighbors, and after fitting up the box trap so that it would give Redcoat a little more air, he loaded him into the back of the Ford truck and started for the Sheerfield Silver Fox Farm. He intended to lose no time in getting his money, besides he was afraid to keep the sly fox for any length of time as he might escape in some way. As for Redcoat, he had no idea where they were going or what was to become of him. He had heard Bud coming up the mountain even before Bud had discovered that the trap was sprung. As the trap was resting on the ground, Bud's footsteps had sounded to the tense ears of the fox like the tread of a "Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum" giant. When Bud had peered into the trap, Redcoat had quickly turned his head and looked in another direction. Once he had peered out of the peek hole in the back of the trap where the spindle had been, and had watched his mountain gradually recede. He did not know, but that was the last glimpse he ever had of his beloved mountain, the stronghold that had sheltered

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 him so many times. As he lay in the box trap while the automobile rattled rapidly along the smooth road, Redcoat rested his muzzle on his paws and waited the next move of his captor. He was ready for any chance that might offer, but whether that chance would be given him or not, was what troubled him.

Redcoat lay listening to the purring motor of the little car, while all that he loved and knew was left rapidly behind. Did he dream of the den in the spruces, or the green meadows where the mice were so plenty, or the great river, or was he thinking of Fluffy and the pups which would be born in a few days without a sire to guard the den, or to hunt for the mother fox? Who shall say? For what naturalist knows just where instinct leaves off and intelligence begins, or how far the wild animals penetrate the domain of man.

After an hour and a half of fast driving Bud wheeled up to Mr. Jennings' house, and they were at the Sheerfield Silver Fox Farm, famed throughout the country.

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 Bud gave the doorbell such a vigorous punch and held on to it so long in his excitement that Mr. Jennings hurried to the door.

"I've got him, I've got him, Mr. Jennings," cried the boy excitedly, as his friend thrust his head through the partly opened door.

"Why, Bud Holcome, is that you?" exclaimed the man equally excited. "What is it you have got? What is all this excitement about anyhow?"

"I've got the Phantom Fox. I caught him on the mountain in a box trap today."

"You may have a red fox, Bud," said Mr. Jennings guardedly, "but I rather doubt if you have him. He is much too clever to be caught in that way."

"It was the fox charm that did it. The box trap would have been useless without it. But I am sure it is he. You just lead the way to an empty pen and I will show him to you."

Mr. Jennings was now as excited as Bud,

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 so he started for the farm without even stopping for his hat, while Bud followed with the box trap on his shoulder.

When they had entered an empty pen, Bud pulled out the nails with which he had secured the wire netting around the box trap door and slowly lifted the door. But Redcoat had not been taken unawares, he was ready, tense and waiting. As soon as the door had been lifted enough to allow his passing beneath it he sprang out like a flash and with two great jumps landed full against the wire netting fence. He had thought it so fragile that he could go through it just as though it had been a willow thicket, but to his great surprise this fragile looking wall threw him back heavily. But he was up again like a flash and went up the wall of the wire fence like a cat. But at the top his head struck the shelf which extended horizontally for a foot and a half and he again fell heavily upon his back.

"Here, here, old chap," said Mr. Jen-

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 nings soothingly. "That is wire netting. I guess you never saw any before."

No, Redcoat had never seen anything like this in his whole life. It was too difficult for him to assay while they were looking, but he would break through it later on, so he slunk into a corner and cowered on the ground.

"Great Cæsar," cried Mr. Jennings excitedly now he could fairly see the newcomer. "It is the Phantom Fox all right. My, but he is a beauty. Bud, this is a wonderful piece of work you have done for me. I am more pleased than you can possibly know."

"I am glad if you are satisfied," said Bud, "but I guess I had better be getting back home. It will take me until midnight."

Mr. Jennings tried to have Bud spend the night with him, but he would not hear of it. He was too eager to get home and tell the good news to Kitty and his folks. So after Mr. Jennings had counted out five crisp one hundred dollar bills, Bud jumped into the truck and stepped on the gas.

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 He must hurry, hurry, hurry; his news would not wait. And if instead of the gleaming white road ahead of him Bud saw a college campus with well kept lawns and shady trees, and if instead of the humming of the motor he heard the cheering throngs at football and baseball games, or the rhythmic lilt of college songs who can blame him? For he had the cash in his pocket, and college was a sure thing.

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FTER the two wild rushes made at the fence as described in the last chapter Redcoat concluded that discretion was the better part of valor, so he slunk into the further corner of the enclosure and crouched upon the ground, watching Bud and Mr. Jennings as long as they stayed in the pen. For five minutes the two men stood admiring the fox and talking eagerly. Mr. Jennings fairly feasted his eyes upon him, for in all his experience of breeding captive foxes he had never seen one that could compare with Redcoat. Several times he held up the lantern that he might get a better view, and the Red Flower in the strange thing made Redcoat blink and partly close his eyes. But finally even Mr. Jennings was satisfied and they went away, after locking both the door to the pen and the gateway in

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EDMUND SPENSER.

Drawn by T Uwins

Engraved by C Warren

From an original Picture in the Collection of the Right Honorable the Earl of Kennent.


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 the guard fence some thirty feet beyond it.

Redcoat heard their footsteps die away in the distance, and then he arose and went cautiously about the inclosure. The pen in which he was confined was twenty-five feet by fifty, and it was one of about fifty pens covering an area of five acres, with a guard fence running entirely around the farm, the whole inclosure comprising the Sheerfield Silver Fox Farm. The wire netting of which the fence was made was galvanized and a little heavier than chicken netting. It was six feet high and was bent over at a right angle on top, extending about a foot and a half over the pen. It was this shelf against which Redcoat had struck his head when he climbed to the top of the fence. A foot and a half underground the netting also ran back into the pen for about twenty inches. Redcoat did not know this at the time, but he discovered it later. In one corner of the pen was a box about the size of the trap in which Bud had caught Redcoat, and he immediately concluded this was another trap. So the men were not content at

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 having confined him in this pen; they had also set a trap for him inside the inclosure. So, he kept as far away from it as possible for the first day. About a foot and a half from the ground and fastened to the wire netting were two tin dishes, each holding about two quarts. One of these was for food and the other for water. This also Redcoat discovered the following day. Although the fence had thrown him back viciously, yet he finally got up courage to examine it on all sides. At first he sniffed it from a safe distance, but as it did him no harm, he went up close and to his surprise and fear he found it had the forbidding smell of the steel trap and the woodsman's axe that his sire had shown him when he was a pup. This was a scent he had been taught to shun from his earliest days. So, this was the secret of the power of the fence. It looked as penetrable as a thicket of willows, yet it was as strong as a brush fence.

For a long time Redcoat could not believe that he was a prisoner in the inclosure. He could see the night sky with the moon and

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 stars above him. The fresh March wind whistled about his pen, and all that was between him and freedom was this fragile looking fence. Around and around the fence he went, looking for some opening, but there was none. Finally from sheer exhaustion he was obliged to lie down and rest. So he stretched himself out in the very center of the pen, as far from the four walls as possible, and slept. When he awoke the sun was shining brightly and he could hear another fox barking in a distant pen. There were a hundred adult foxes there on the farm very near to Redcoat, but for all intents and purposes he was alone in his prison.

At about seven o'clock a man came trundling a pushcart down the lane between the two lines of pens. He was bringing the foxes morning breakfast. He stopped at Redcoat's pen, and reaching through the fence put the rations for one fox in the food dish. He also poured cool fresh water in the other dish, and then passed on to the next pen. Redcoat did not realize that water and food were at hand until he saw a

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 THE FAERIE QUEEN;

AND OTHER POEMS

OF

EDMUND SPENSER.


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 fox in an adjacent pen standing on his hind legs and drinking out of his water dish. This reminded Redcoat that he was very thirsty himself, yet he would not go near the dish for a long time. It was just another trap. Finally, at about noon, he became so thirsty that he stood upon his hind legs and was about to lap water out of the dish when he noticed that the food dish near by reeked with man scent, so he gave up the attempt, and it was not until the second night of his captivity that he even dared drink.

The following morning he was treated to a great surprise, for one of the men brought a crate and set it up against the door to Redcoat's pen, and then opened it, and a beautiful blue lady fox, who had come all the way from Alaska, stepped into Redcoat's pen.

But Redcoat himself was very unfriendly and treated the newcomer with great disdain. It was hours before he would so much as look at her, and if she went near him or tried to be friendly he growled and turned his back upon her.

Mr. Jennings, who was watching them

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 from the lane outside the fence, thought it one of the funniest things he had ever seen; the dignity and hauteur of Redcoat and the shy glances of the blue stranger.

But there were many influences at work to break down the barrier Redcoat sought to raise between himself and his destined mate. In the first place, he was very lonely and he was thinking constantly of Fluffy and the new litter of little blind fox pups in the den among the spruces. He would never see them again. This man creature had taken him far, far away. He knew not the way back, and this lady fox was trying to be kind to him. But there was one art which she possessed that was more powerful than all others. She admired Redcoat immensely. He was the largest and most beautiful fox she had ever seen, and she made this plain to him at every possible chance. Redcoat could not look in her direction without seeing her gaze at him with adoring eyes, and finally his vanity was touched. Why, this stranger really knew a fine fox when she saw one, and she did ad-

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 mire him. There was no question about that. And, she was a handsome fox herself, although not as beautiful as Fluffy; her ears were shorter, her head was a little chunkier and her face was covered with long coarse hairs, but her coat was very beautiful, and she was such a friendly little creature and Redcoat was so lonely.

So little by little his prejudice was worn away, and Blue Lady won her way first into his confidence and then into his affection.

The first day of his captivity Redcoat had been amazed at the lack of fear of men among these domestic foxes. They did not seem to understand that men were their very worst enemies; that they were continually plotting against their lives with traps, poison, thunder sticks and dogs; but instead they ate the food which tasted so strongly of man scent and freely drank the water that the men placed in the water dish. Not only that, but some of them would stand upon their hind legs and take raisins from the man's hand. Redcoat was horrified on the third day when he saw Blue Lady eating

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 from the man's hand in this way. It was she who first enlightened Redcoat as to the dry goods box in the corner of his pen. The thing that he had thought another trap. This box had a wooden tunnel about a foot foot square leading into it, and to Redcoat's amazement one day Blue Lady crawled into this tunnel and disappeared from sight. Redcoat never expected to see her again. He thought soon the men would come and carry her away as he had been carried off in the box trap. But to his great surprise, in a few seconds she came out of the tunnel none the worse for the adventure. Not only that, but she invited Redcoat to inspect the box. At first he would have nothing to do with it, but finally his curiosity got the best of him and he followed Blue Lady through the tunnel. He found inside first a little hallway and a turn to the left, then he stepped upon a platform and there before him was an inner box about twenty inches square. This was sleeping quarters for two foxes, arranged in this way in order that they might be free from drafts. Blue Lady

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 jumped into the nest and invited Redcoat to share it with her. And, as he was so lonely and Fluffy and the pups were so far away, he followed after her, and the two foxes nestled down in the nest, and they were the best of friends from that hour.

But the life in this strange prison soon became intolerable to Redcoat. He was not used to it. Hitherto the fields, the woods and the green meadows had all been a part of his domain, and now it had narrowed down to this grassless plot of twenty-five feet by fifty. For him there were no more exciting runs through the meadow with the morning wind keen in his face; no more could he sit upon his lookout on the mountainside and watch the man creatures coming and going in the valley below. This life might be very well for these stupid foxes; these foxes who would eat from the hand of their worst enemy and knew not the danger that surrounded them. It was not that Redcoat was hungry or abused, but they had taken away the one thing he valued most in the whole world, his freedom.

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 Blue Lady, who had never known anything else but confinement, sought to console him, but he was unconsolable. With each day his discontent grew until it finally became an obsession, so that the better part of the night he would prowl about the yard and dig about the fence, seeking for some way out. Finally there was born in his crafty mind a plan, and this he confided to Blue Lady as well as he could through the limited language of a fox. At first she was doubtful, but finally she caught his enthusiasm and entered fully into his plan. So one night at about eight o'clock, after the keeper had scrutinized all the pens and gone home, Redcoat with the assistant of his mate began his desperate adventure.

Meanwhile, the Meadowdale Fox Club had gone on several unsuccessful hunts. Day after day they had sought to start the Phantom Fox but without success. He had disappeared as completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed him, or as one of the hunters said, that he had jumped on the cow-catcher of a passing train and gone

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 to Canada. Finally, it became rumored about that some one bad trapped or shot the Phantom Fox. He was no longer to be found on his favorite range. The Meadowdale Fox Club were quite sure of that. Finally these rumors came to the ears of Kitty Mason. At first she did not take them seriously, but at last their full import came to her, and with it a dark suspicion. There was but one person in the countryside who knew the ways and the habits of Redcoat, and that was Bud Holcome. If anyone had trapped or shot the fox, it was he. So, one evening in a very serious frame of mind, she called Bud on the telephone. He was always glad to hear Kitty's voice but he now saw at once that something serious was in the wind.

"Bud," said Kitty in her most serious manner, "they say some one has shot or trapped the Phantom Fox. The Meadowdale Fox Club have tried every day for a week, but they can not start him. I want you to tell me the truth, Bud, have you shot the Phantom Fox?"

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 "No Kitty," replied Bud, "I haven't shot him."

"Well, Bud," continued the girl, "have you trapped him?"

"Why, no, that is, not exactly."

"Bud," cried Kitty excitedly, "I know you have trapped him. Tell me the truth."

"Well," said Bud after a long pause, "I can't talk about it over the telephone. I'll come over to the house in a few minutes and tell you all about it."

It was a very shamefaced Bud, with his recent radiance all gone out of him, who finally appeared at the Mason farmhouse. He knew there was no use prevaricating, for Kitty would know the truth, so he told her the whole story.

"You see, Kit," he concluded, "I did it as much for his good as for mine. I knew the Fox Club would get him if I didn't. I had a chance to save him and make five hundred dollars for college so I took it."

Kitty sat for several minutes with her brows knitted before making her reply, then what she said sent Bud Holcome's heart way

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 down in his boots, for with her words his vision of college suddenly vanished.

"Bud," she said, "you have taken away from Redcoat the thing that he valued most in the world, his freedom. He was born a free fox and a free fox he should be. I just know he would rather take his chances with traps, poison, men and dogs than to be cooped up there on that old fox farm. You and I have got to go to Mr. Jennings and buy him back, and then set him free. There is no other way."

"But, Kitty," expostulated Bud, "I will have to give up going to college."

"It can't be helped," returned the girl. "I just know what I am telling you is the right thing to do. There is no other honorable course. You cannot build your success on Redcoat's misery."

"But Kitty, he's just an ordinary red fox, and it means so much to me."

"I know, Bud, but he isn't just an ordinary red fox. He is a very exceptional fox and he is a sort of friend of mine. I never told you much about it, but I got acquainted

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 with him two years ago up in the pasture. He came out and sat down and looked at me while I picked berries. I talked to him and he did not seem to be afraid at all. Another time I saw him with his family, Mrs. Fox and the four pups, and they looked so happy together. But that is not all Bud, I saw him once in a terrible plight. He was wounded and running on three legs and a score of brutal men with their hounds had nearly run the life out of this little red fox. He came stumbling into the roadway and fell almost at my horse's feet. Then the whole thing came home to me in a new way. I saw it all with new light. I determined that you and the rest of the men should not get him, so I wrapped a blanket about him and picked him up in my arms and tucked him under the seat of the sleigh, and drove away with him, and neither hunter nor hounds knew where he went. I left him half a mile from the road up in father's woodlot, and he wagged his tail at me as he went away, and I determined then I would always be his friend, so I've got to stand by

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 him now, Bud. You have got to buy him back and set him free."

Bud argued and expostulated, but all to no purpose. So, it was finally agreed that they would get an early start for the fox farm on the following morning.

It was just about the time that Kitty and Bud were having their solemn conversation as to their right to keep the price of Redcoat's freedom, when he set to work to do something for himself. From the digging that he had done on previous days, he had discovered that the wire fence ran back for a foot and a half underground into the pen but just at this point he had one day luckily dug a hole under the netting almost as far as the perpendicular portion of the fence. Fortunately for him Blue Lady had concluded he was spoiling their pen, so she had at once filled up the hole and padded down the dirt with her paws, thus this digging had not been discovered by the keeper of the farm. Redcoat very quickly threw out the soft dirt that he had dug the day before and started in on his enterprise, burrowing un-

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 der the fence. He soon had Blue Lady as excited as himself and together they fairly made the earth fly. Redcoat would dig down in the hole until he became exhausted and out of breath, while Blue Lady would throw the dirt back towards the middle of the pen, then she would take her turn digging while Redcoat threw the dirt back. Feverishly they worked. The task seemed endless. They dug and dug and dug, while the dirt flew back beneath their feet. Finally about three o'clock in the morning, when Redcoat had despaired of ever finding his way to the green grass on the further side of the fence, his frantically working paws went through the sod and a little later he enlarged the hole, with the help of Blue Lady who was throwing the dirt back. In another half hour he had made the opening large enough so that both of them escaped into the outer incisure. But Redcoat's work was not all done. His freedom was still beyond another fence. This was the guard fence which encircled the farm some fifty feet beyond the pens. As soon as Redcoat examined this

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 carefully he saw that the netting here at the bottom of the fence lay upon the ground. He had digged and worked at this wire netting so much during the past two weeks that he had lost his fear of it, so he now grabbed it firmly in his teeth and pulled it upward with all his might. Blue Lady got hold beside him and the pair pulled together. Soon they raised it and bent it up six or eight inches from the ground, and this greatly simplified their digging process, for they now had merely to make a tunnel through under the main fence.

Three hours more of desperate digging and the trick was done. A trench large enough to admit of their crawling under the fence had been made.

The consternation of the keeper of the fox farm may well be imagined, as he came trundling the foxes' breakfast down to the farm, to see Redcoat wriggle out from under the guard fence, and while he was still watching him too astonished to speak or even move, Blue Lady followed. It was now too late to make any move to stop them, and

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 while the keeper rushed forward yet his efforts were futile, for Redcoat led the way towards a nearby woods at a pace that would have even left the hounds behind, and Blue Lady had just enough confidence in his leading to follow.

Bud and Kitty had climbed into the Ford coupe and started for the fox farm at five o'clock that morning. The trip had been a rather solemn one. All of Bud's plans for the immediate future had been given up and, as he had said, just for an old red fox.

"I might of had him, Kitty, months ago," the boy confided as the car hummed along the country road. "I got him once fair and square in a steel trap and he outwitted me."

"Why, you never told me, Bud. How did it happen?"

"Well," said Bud, "I was such a fool and he was so clever I didn't want to tell anybody. I got him in the brook and when I found him he was floating on the water, apparently drowned, I picked him up in my arms and laid him on the bank in the sun to dry, and a minute later when I looked for

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 him he was rushing through the underbrush at about a mile a minute.

"But that wasn't all. Another time I found him in a terrible plight. It was a cold winter morning and he had tried to lick blood from a rail on the track. His tongue had stuck to the cold steel. The train was rushing down upon him from one direction, while I came from another with my rifle. I raised the gun to shoot him, when he looked up into my eyes with a look that melted me. I could not shoot him after that; instead I freed him from the track. Two seconds more of delay and the train would have got us both."

"Bud, that was fine of you! I am proud of you. A fellow who has got a soft spot in his heart for the dumb creatures, even though they be only foxes, is a boy that a girl can trust."

The little car whirred up to the fox farm about half an hour after Redcoat and Blue Lady had disappeared in the nearby woods.

Mr. Jennings was much surprised to see the young people, and even more surprised

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 at Bud's first words, "I've come to buy back the red fox," he said. "Kitty and I have concluded that I ought to buy him back and set him free."

"You see, Mr. Jennings," put in the girl, "he's a wild fox and he loves the out-of-doors. He was born on the mountain and he has hunted in the meadows, and he could never be happy here in the fox pen, so Bud has come to buy him back."

Mr. Jennings looked at them in astonishment, which finally ended in his laugbing beartily.

"What about college?" he asked. "I thought this five undred dollars was to start you off."

"Yes, it was," said Kitty. "But we have to do what's right. Bud and I talked it all over and we agreed he could not keep the money, if Redcoat bad to be a prisoner on his account."

"All right," replied Mr. Jennings. "I will sell him to you on one condition. He's kind of wild this morning and you'll have to catch him yourselves." So he led the

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 way to the fox pen, closely followed by the young people.

He stopped before the pile of fresh dirt by the guard fence and looked at it curiously.

"What's that?" asked Bud.

"Why," replied Mr. Jennings nonchalantly, "that is a new front door; one that Redcoat made for himself this very morning. See that hole under the fence yonder; that is another front door leading from his pen to the lane."

"But, where is he?" inquired Bud excitedly, not fully sensing Mr. Jennings' joke, yet getting a glimmer of the truth.

"Heaven only knows," replied Mr. Jennings solemnly. "The last we saw of him he was making for the woods and he was closely followed by the best blue fox on the farm."

"What?" cried the young folks in chorus. "Has Redcoat escaped?"

"Not only that," replied Mr. Jennings, "but he has taken with him the most valuable lady fox we had, and we have said goodby to them."

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 "Well," said Bud, holding out the envelope containing the money, "here is the five hundred dollars."

"It isn't mine," said Mr. Jennings. "I haven't any fox to sell you, for Redcoat by his own cunning has accomplished his own freedom and given Bud his first year at college."

And here the story of Redcoat really ends; but for the benefit of those who love to go behind the scenes and see what happens after the actors have left the stage and the curtain has fallen, I have written the following pages.

When Redcoat led that headlong flight from the fox farm to the nearest woods, his greatest anxiety was that Blue Lady would not keep up with him. For several weeks he was greatly worried at her indifference as to the danger from men and their devices. She had been born on an island fox farm in Behring Sea, and had seen men all her life. Nearly all the food that she had eaten had come from their hands. So she looked upon them as benefactors rather than enemies.

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 But little by little Redcoat instilled into her a fear of their worst enemy. He taught her all his fox lore, his knowledge of men and dogs and traps and poison, and all this time he hunted for both of them.

Blue Lady thought him the most wonderful fox that she had ever seen, and this greatly flattered his vanity, so he became more daring than ever. Many were the wonderful feasts that the pair of foxes had at the expense of the farmers, as they journeyed leisurely northward, for although they zigzagged about, yet their course was always to the north. There were two reasons for this. First, Redcoat knew that his old range was to the south and he wished to get as far away from it as possible. Then too, the winds from the north were cooler and fresher than those from the south. Somehow this suggestion of cold satisfied Redcoat, as the balmy south breezes did not. For the foxes are children of the snow, for they always revel in the first snowstorm of the season, rolling and swimming in it, and playing in it like children. When it is deep

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 enough, they will curl up like round balls, hiding their noses in their bushy tails, and let the storm cover them; even sleeping all night in a snow bed.

Finally after four months of leisurely travelling, Redcoat and his companion came to a lonely land just on the border between the New England states and the Dominion of Canada. Here there was a region of three townships which held more deserted farms than any other similar area in the United States. It was fifteen miles to the nearest railroad and the country roads were so rough and the hills so steep that motorists always went by another way if they could. And here Redcoat and his mate ceased their wanderings and settled down.

I will give you just one more picture of the fox family before leaving them.

It is early June. June with its deep blue skies, and its fleecy white clouds. The little breeze has been racing across the meadows and has come up to the edge of the woods with its breath fragrant from clover blossom. On a grassy plot, just above a

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 little stream, the fox family are disporting themselves. Blue Lady and six little foxes are having such a wonderful time. The mother fox lies sprawled out on the grass, while two of the pups pull her tail and two others romp over her. The two remaining pups are chasing a very lively grasshopper.

On the grassy plot above them, in a sunny place, Redcoat lies stretched to his full length, with his nose upon his paws. His eyes are partly closed, yet he sees and hears and smells everything, for his senses are all alert guarding his little family from any lurking danger. Never in his whole life has he felt so contented or safe from his enemies. The days of the Thunderer and honking automobiles and fox clubs and galloping horses all seem like a bad dream. True, an occasional fisherman wades the little stream which runs through the meadow where the foxes hunt mice, but the fishermen are not interested in foxes. Also an occasional camping party comes into this fastness to enjoy the primeval beauty of nature. But these are all peaceable people, with a

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 love of wild life. So the fox family goes unharmed, notwithstanding these invasions.

If Mr. Jennings, the fox breeder, could only have seen this little family he would have gone wild at the sight, for it was just such a blend of the blue and red foxes as he had dreamed of for years. Two of the pups still clung to the type. One was a perfect picture of Redcoat, and the other of Blue Lady. But the four remaining pups were half and half, with the beautiful head of Redcoat and the luxuriant coat of Blue Lady. The blue jay could have told you where the den was located, for he had seen the fox family the first day the pups came forth. The whitethroat, which now sang in the poplars above them, could have told you much of their ways, for he saw them come each day to this grass plot to romp. A certain pool in the trout stream nearby could have told you just how the little foxes looked when they came each day to drink of the cool water. But the Blue Jay, the whitethroat, and the Brook all keep their counsel. So there upon the grass plot, let us leave

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 them, in this lonely land far from the haunts of men. For Redcoat has at last found the refuge from his many enemies and is happy, after his kind. No more is heard the diabolical shriek of the Thunderer, the honking of automobile horns, or the baying of fox hounds. Instead, there is a bird song and the low music of the singing brook, and a deep peace over all the land.

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text: Redcoat

title: Redcoat


text: Redcoat/Four Little Foxes

title: Redcoat/Four Little Foxes


text: Redcoat/Note to the Reader

title: Redcoat/Note to the Reader


text: Redcoat/Redcoat and His American Cousins


text: Redcoat/Chapter 1

title: Redcoat/Chapter 1


text: Redcoat/Chapter 2

title: Redcoat/Chapter 2


text: Redcoat/Chapter 3

title: Redcoat/Chapter 3


text: Redcoat/Chapter 4

title: Redcoat/Chapter 4


text: Redcoat/Chapter 5

title: Redcoat/Chapter 5


text: Redcoat/Chapter 6

title: Redcoat/Chapter 6


text: Redcoat/Chapter 7

title: Redcoat/Chapter 7


text: Redcoat/Chapter 8

title: Redcoat/Chapter 8


text: Redcoat/Chapter 9

title: Redcoat/Chapter 9


text: Redcoat/Chapter 10

title: Redcoat/Chapter 10


text: Redcoat/Chapter 11

title: Redcoat/Chapter 11


text: Redcoat/Chapter 12

title: Redcoat/Chapter 12


text: Trade Unions in Soviet Russia/The All Russia Trade Union of Civil Servants, Shop Assistants and Clerks


text: The Life of Thomas Hardy (Brennecke)/Chapter 9


text:
Author talk:Arthur Henry Graham-Hoggarth

= sources =

Name 	Arthur Henry Graham Hoggarth Birth Year 	1882 Death Year 	1964 Source
 * The Dictionary of British Book Illustrators and Caricaturists, 1800- 1914. By Simon Houfe. Woodbridge, England: Antique Collectors' Club, 1978. Biographies begin on page 215. (DcBrBI)

death
Name 	Arthur H G Hoggarth Death Age 	81 Registration Date 	Jan Q. 1964 Registration district 	Westmorland South Volume 	1b Page 	607
 * FreeBMD

census
Name 	Arthur Henry Graham Hoggarth Age in 1911 	28 Relation to Head 	Boarder Gender 	Male Birth Place 	Kendal, Westmorland, England Civil parish 	York Street Address 	Bootham School York Marital Status 	Single Occupation 	Schoolmaster (assistant) Registration District Number 	517 Sub-registration district 	York East ED, institution, or vessel 	33 Piece 	28416 Household Members (Name) 	Age 	Relationship Arthur Rowntree  49   Head Ellen Hurndall Rowntree  51 Wife ...
 * 1911 England

probate
Name 	Arthur Henry Graham Hoggarth of Elph Howe, Staveley, Kendal Death Date 	27 Feb 1964 Death Place 	Westmorland, England Probate Date 	28 Apr 1964 Probate Registry 	Carlisle
 * Calendar of the Grants ...

1939 Register
Name 	Arthur H G Hoggarth Gender 	Male Marital Status 	Single Birth Date 	31 Oct 1882 Residence Date 	1939 Address 	Churchers College Ramshill Residence Place 	Petersfield, Hampshire, England Occupation 	Headmaster of Boarding A?? Day School Line Number 	6 Schedule Number 	3 Sub Schedule Number 	1 OVSPI 	Officer Enumeration District 	Edth Borough 	Petersfield Registration district 	103 1 Household Members (Name) 	Gender Arthur H G Hoggarth 	Male ...


text:
Author:Lew Sarett

Poetry collections

 * Many Many Moons (1920)
 * The Box of God (1922)
 * Slow Smoke (1925)

Individual poems

 * "Four Little Foxes" (1927)

title: Author:Lew Sarett


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 no evening party is endurable. I dare say, love in a cottage is very pleasant; but then it positively must be a cottage ornée: but would not the same love be a great deal safer in a castle, even if Mammon furnished the fortification?

Oh, Lady Clarinda! there is a heartlessness in that language that chills me to the soul.

Heartlessness! No: my heart is on my lips. I speak just what I think. You used to like it, and say it was as delightful as it was rare.

True, but you did not then talk as you do now, of love in a castle.

Well, but only consider: a dun is a hor-


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 ridly vulgar creature; it is a creature I cannot endure the thought of: and a cottage lets him in so easily. Now a castle keeps him at bay. You are a half-pay officer, and are at leisure to command the garrison: but where is the castle? and who is to furnish the commissariat?

Is it come to this, that you make a jest of my poverty? Yet is my poverty only comparative. Many decent families are maintained on smaller means.

Decent families: aye, decent is the distinction from respectable. Respectable means rich, and decent means poor. I should die if I heard my family called decent. And then your decent family always lives in a snug little place: I hate


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 a little place; I like large rooms and large looking-glasses, and large parties, and a fine large butler, with a tinge of smooth red in his face; an outward and visible sign that the family he serves is respectable; if not noble, highly respectable.

I cannot believe that you say all this in earnest. No man is less disposed than I am to deny the importance of the substantial comforts of life. I once flattered myself that in our estimate of these things we were nearly of a mind.

Do you know, I think an opera-box a very substantial comfort, and a carriage. You will tell me that many decent people walk arm in arm through the snow, and sit in clogs and bonnets in the pit at the English theatre. No doubt it is very


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 pleasant to those who are used to it; but it is not to my taste.

You always delighted in trying to provoke me; but I cannot believe that you have not a heart.

You do not like to believe that I have a heart, you mean. You wish to think I have lost it, and you know to whom; and when I tell you that it is still safe in my own keeping, and that I do not mean to give it away, the unreasonable creature grows angry.

Angry! far from it: I am perfectly cool.

Why you are pursing your brows, biting your lips, and lifting up your foot as if you would stamp it into the earth. I must say


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 anger becomes you; you would make a charming Hotspur. Your every-day-dining-out face is rather insipid: but I assure you my heart is in danger when you are in the heroics. It is so rare too, in these days of smooth manners, to see any thing like natural expression in a man's face. There is one set form for every man's face in female society: a sort of serious comedy, walking gentleman's face: but the moment the creature falls in love, he begins to give himself airs, and plays off all the varieties of his physiognomy from the Master Slender to the Petruchio; and then he is actually very amusing.

Well, Lady Clarinda, I will not be angry, amusing as it may be to you: I listen more in sorrow than in anger. I half believe you in earnest: and mourn as over a fallen angel.


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 What, because I have made up my mind not to give away my heart when I can sell it? I will introduce you to my new acquaintance, Mr. Mac Quedy: he will talk to you by the hour about exchangeable value, and shew you that no rational being will part with any thing, except to the highest bidder.

Now, I am sure you are not in earnest. You cannot adopt such sentiments in their naked deformity.

Naked deformity: why Mr. Mac Quedy will prove to you that they are the cream of the most refined philosophy. You live a very pleasant life as a bachelor, roving about the country with your portfolio under your arm. I am not fit to be a poor man's wife.


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 I cannot take any kind of trouble, or do any one thing that is of any use. Many decent families roast a bit of mutton on a string; but if I displease my father I shall not have as much as will buy the string, to say nothing of the meat; and the bare idea of such cookery gives me the horrors.

By this time, they were near the Castle, and met Miss Crotchet and her companion, who had turned back to meet them. Captain Fitzchrome was shortly after heartily welcomed by Mr. Crotchet, and the party separated to dress for dinner, the Captain being by no means in an enviable state of mind, and full of misgivings as to the extent of belief that he was bound to accord to the words of the lady of his heart.


text: Crotchet Castle/Chapter 3

title: Crotchet Castle/Chapter 3


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)

title: Anna Karenina (Dole)


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One

title: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 1

title: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 1


text: Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/27


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 2

title: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 2


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 3

title: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 3


text: Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/37


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 4

title: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 4


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 5

title: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 5


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text: The Life of Thomas Hardy (Brennecke)/Images


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text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 6

title: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 6


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 7

title: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 7


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Rh man since his sweetheart's sad loss that he had been before.

Nothing of note happened to our little settlement for the next year or two, save that it increased in numbers and prosperity, without losing the health and virtue which were the natural results of a simple and industrious life in a beautiful climate. My reading has introduced me to most of the ideal and actual communities of the world, but our social policy reminds me of none so much as of that sketched by Sir Thomas More in his Utopia. We had no coinage, no commerce, none of the mere gauds of life, only a free exchange of the products of our hands. Each man brought to market the excess of his productions over the needs of his family; each took thence so much and no more than he required. Those who are acquainted with that remarkable work of the chancellor of King Henry VIII. of England will know how closely the details of our economy correspond with those of his imaginary state. In the XXth century after Christ we had revived the glories of the Golden Age.


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 8

title: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 8


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text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 9

title: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 9


text: Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/65


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 10


text:
Page:The Wreck of a World - Grove - 1890.djvu/119

Rh forting the afflicted, helping the poor and feeble with his own hands, and all with a perfect simplicity and absence of self-seeking that endeared him to all. To him I looked, and looked with confidence, as my successor in the duties of Chief Magistrate, whenever age or death should remove me from that post.

Dana had grown into a splendid fellow, the admiration of all the girls of the state, and the hero of all the lads. He carried on the medical studies into which I had initiated him with perseverance if without enthusiasm, but in fact he was a born seaman, if ever there was such a being; never so happy as on board his beloved ships, which he kept in scrupulous order, unless it might be when I allowed him to take one or other of them on a cruise among the neighbouring islands. Our friend the boatswain who administered such a drubbing to the President was his right hand man, and as keen a sailor as Dana himself; while the President still strutted and crowed for the amusement of the community, or for their more amusement cringed and quailed when any one thought it worth while to take him down a peg. For myself, the lines of my face were grown a trifle deeper and my hair a thought


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 11


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Page:Chaucer - Complete works (Skeat Volume 3).djvu/89

FIG. I. BACK OF THE 'ASTROLABE.'


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Rh cated how rapt had been the interest of all spectators. A few moments later his eyes opened, and as they grew cognisant of the beloved face which hung so eagerly over his, a smile suffused his pale features, and his lips moved softly as though seeking to kiss the sweeter lips that were so near. Ah, those sweet lips might well bring life and health and strength to any mortal man that had not fairly passed into the silent land. Softly and lovingly she kissed him again and again: this was no time for maiden coyness or modesty: what mattered it that hundreds of men and women stood around watching her every motion? They were as naught to her, there was but one human being whose existence was of any moment; could she but bring him back to her she cared for nothing more in this world. And amid the mingled laughter and tears of those who caught the sympathetic joy of victorious devotion she brought him back from the twilight of life to its full dawn, when at last his lips parted once more and murmured softly yet plainly, "My own dearest love!"

But what of Dana? Why is it that in this world one man's joy must be another's grief? Poor fellow!


text: Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 12


text: Page:Chaucer - Complete works (Skeat Volume 3).djvu/90


text: Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/79


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Page:Chaucer - Complete works (Skeat Volume 3).djvu/91

FIG. 2. FRONT OF THE 'ASTROLABE.'


text: Page:Chaucer - Complete works (Skeat Volume 3).djvu/92


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FIG. 3. RULE. FIG. 4. PIN, FIG. 5. PLATE FOR A CLIMATE. FIG. 6. LABEL.


text: Page:Chaucer - Complete works (Skeat Volume 3).djvu/94


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FIG. 7. WEDGE AND HORSE (from a MS.). FIG. 8. DIAGRAM FOR A PROPOSITION. FIG. 9. STAR-POINTS.


text: Page:Chaucer - Complete works (Skeat Volume 3).djvu/96


text:
Page:Chaucer - Complete works (Skeat Volume 3).djvu/97

FIG. 10. NINE SPHERES.

FIGS. II, 12, 13. PROBLEMS.


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