THE BELL-MOUTHED PACK
The new land in which Red Fox now found himself established was greatly
to his taste, and his blood ran wildly in the sweetness of recovered
freedom. He had little time to pine for his grimmer north and the vast
woods of Ringwaak. Here were dense coverts, patches of swamp, long,
though narrow, stretches of woodland wherein a kind of stiff, primly
upright cedar took the place of his well-loved spruce and fir, bright
green meadows enclosed with stone walls, and rocky, neglected pastures
with snake fences that reminded him of home. Here and there a steep,
rocky knoll, set thick with trees which were many of them unfamiliar to
him, arose out of the levels; and here and there a much-meandering brook,
narrow but deepish, spread out into a pond which suggested to him a
plenitude of wild ducks. From a rock on the crest of the highest knoll he
saw that this pleasant new range of his was almost completely surrounded
by settlements and smoky villages; but beyond these, to the north and
west, ran a purple barrier of mountains, as wild-looking as his own
Ringwaak. He had half a mind to set out for these mountains at once, not
quite liking the girdle of civilization which he saw drawn about him. But
that was only a passing whim. He had no other fault to find with his
present domain. Game was abundant, and the more he explored these
diversified coverts the more content with them he became. Before he had
been three days in possession he knew them thoroughly. There seemed to be
no active enemies about, and the men whom he saw lounging on the
club-house porches, on the outskirts of his domain, appeared unlikely to
give him any annoyance.
[Illustration: “THE CENTRE OF THE MOST DIFFICULT PATCH OF SWAMP.”]
On the morning of the fourth day, however, he was surprised to note a
great bustle and stir before the club-house. From the top of his knoll he
wondered at the scarlet-coated riders who were gathering quickly, with
here and there among them a slenderer, dark figure, which seemed to stick
mysteriously upon one side of her horse. His interest, however, turned
speedily to apprehension when he saw a pack of dogs, perhaps ten or
twelve in number (he did not know how to count), coming up over a rise
beyond the club-house. These dogs looked very much like the tan-coloured
half-breed at the settlement, whom he had so often outwitted and outrun.
He understood now certain ominous, baying voices, which he had heard
several times in the distance; and he realized in a second that now was
an old game about to be played in a new way. He himself it was, and none
other, that all this fuss was about. There was so much of it; and the
colour looked so impressive. For a moment his heart sank, and his brush
dropped. Then confidence returned. He sat up with sprightly cocked ears
and head to one side as was his ancient custom, and eyed with shrewd
semi-disdain the elaborate preparations which were being made against
him. Then he slipped down from his watch-tower and betook himself to the
centre of the most difficult patch of swamp.
There was one thing, however, which Red Fox, shrewd as he was, did not
realize; and that was that the master of the hounds knew a lot about
foxes. He knew that that rock on the top of the knoll was just the sort
of place which a strange fox, if a cunning one, would be likely to choose
as a lookout when anything unusual was afoot. He led the way thither,
therefore, and put the pack straight at it, rather expecting an immediate
find. The steaming scent, of course, was picked up almost at once; and
away went the splendid pack in loud chorus, heads up and sterns down,
taking the scent in the air, straight for the swamp, and the whole field
following.
What Red Fox had heard before was the voice of one hound mingled with the
yelping of an excitable mongrel. The deep, bell-like chorus that now fell
upon his ears warned him that the emergency confronting him was something
quite new and altogether trying. In order to deal with it he felt that he
must know more about it than he did. Without waiting to leave any tangles
in the swamp for the hounds to unravel, he slipped out on the farther
side, ran hard for about a mile and a half straight away through the
roughest kind of a country, then doubled back on a spacious loop and
mounted another knoll to take observations.
So remarkable had been his speed that he was in time to see, below him
and across a stretch of meadow, the pack just emerging from the swamp,
and the gay-coloured field just closing upon them around the swamp’s
edges. With the intensest interest he watched it all. He marvelled, not
without a pang, at the speed of those black and tan dogs, who ran so
close together and seemed to know so well what they were about. He
marvelled still more at the man-creatures on horseback who followed the
pack so wildly. He had taken pains to put every possible obstacle in the
path,—every high stone wall, every crooked fence, every ditch and bog,
every coil of the erratic brook. These, to his light and tough agility,
were nothing. But it filled him with amazement to see the way in which
the man-creatures—those slim, dark ones on the sides of their horses as
well as the red ones that rode in the usual fashion—went boldly over the
obstacles. Some, to be sure, went down in disaster; and some turned aside
to rejoin the hunt later on; but most kept straight ahead with the pack,
“buck-jumping” their way over certain awkward obstructions, and clearing
others with magnificent, soaring leaps. Red Fox thought to himself that
these man-creatures were curiously different from those he used to
know,—Jabe Smith, and the Boy, and the long-legged, slouching,
indifferent backwoods farmers. He got so absorbed in satisfying his
curiosity that he almost forgot the important part which he himself was
playing in the drama; and before he knew it the baying pack was almost
back upon him. He darted down the densest side of the knoll and ran with
all his might across the open,—but he was not quite in time to escape
being sighted. A great shout of triumph went up from the field; and the
pack was sent at a tangent across the field, cutting into the trail and
saving a vast expenditure of time and wind. The burst of speed which Red
Fox now put on was a revelation to all who were so fortunate as to see
it; but, softened as he was from his long weeks of captivity, it cost him
too much. He kept right on through the next covert, and across the next
open, and through a wide belt of alder-swamp; but when next he showed
himself, had there been any one near to see, it would have been observed
that his brush drooped in dejection, and his bright, dapper coat was dark
with wet. He halted for a moment or two, to recover his wind a little;
then he set himself to try some of his old tricks.
[Illustration: “ON A FALLEN SAPLING HE CROSSED THE BROOK.”]
On a fallen sapling he crossed the brook, and ran some twenty yards
up-stream. Then, though he hated wetting his feet, he retraced his steps
in the water, close alongshore, to a distance of perhaps fifty yards
down-stream. This, he calculated, should give him plenty of time to
recover his wind and begin the game again as good as new. But that
bell-mouthed baying was once more close behind him. He trotted to the
farthest point of the alder swamp, saving himself shrewdly for a quick
and secret dart across the meadows to the next covert, and slipped out
boldly. To his terror, there stood a group of the scarlet-coated men on
horseback, apparently awaiting him. As their terrible shout arose he knew
all those elaborate tactics of his had gone for nought,—had been so much
precious time wasted. For an instant he hesitated, thinking to turn back.
But the baying of his pursuers was already in the alder-swamp. Taking a
grip on his nerve, he dashed straight through the group of horsemen,—who
applauded with a volley of terrifying sounds,—and ran for the next patch
of woods.
When he got there, and the kindly shadows once more shielded him for a
little, he knew he must not stop, though his heart was threatening to
burst. He feared to try any more of his old devices against these new and
too numerous foes. He simply ran straight on, trusting to find some novel
way out of his trouble. The hounds were less noisy now, having no breath
to spare for music; and this encouraged him a little. Through the
thickets he raced, and through a little pasture which offered no
suggestion of escape. The pasture was bounded on the further side by a
massive stone wall, extending as far as he could see in either direction.
What there might be on the other side of that wall he had no least idea;
but assuredly, whatever there was, it could not be worse than what there
was on this side. With hardly strength enough left for the leap, he
sprang to the top of the wall,—and dropped instantly down the other side.