I must tell you one more story about a fox, and a very interesting
little animal it was, though not less cunning than its relatives in
warmer regions.
Mr Hayes, the Arctic explorer, had a beautiful little snow-white fox,
which was his companion in his cabin when his vessel was frozen up
during the winter. She had been caught in a trap, but soon became tame,
and used to sit in his lap during meals, with her delicate paws on the
cloth. A plate and fork were provided for her, though she was unable to
handle the fork herself; and little bits of raw venison, which she
preferred to seasoned food. When she took the morsels into her mouth,
her eyes sparkled with delight. She used to wipe her lips, and look up
at her master with a _coquetterie_ perfectly irresistible. Sometimes
she exhibited much impatience; but a gentle rebuke with a fork on the
tip of the nose was sufficient to restore her patience.
When sufficiently tame, she was allowed to run loose in the cabin; but
she got into the habit of bounding over the shelves, without much regard
for the valuable and perishable articles lying on them. She soon also
found out the bull's-eye overhead, through the cracks round which she
could sniff the cool air. Close beneath it she accordingly took up her
abode; and thence she used to crawl down when dinner was on the table,
getting into her master's lap, and looking up longingly and lovingly
into his face, sometimes putting out her little tongue with impatience,
and barking, if the beginning of the repast was too long delayed.
To prevent her climbing, she was secured by a slight chain. This she
soon managed to break, and once having performed the operation, she did
not fail to attempt it again. To do this, she would first draw herself
back as far as she could get, and then suddenly dart forward, in the
hope of snapping it by the jerk; and though she was thus sent reeling on
the floor, she would again pick herself up, panting as if her little
heart would break, shake out her disarranged coat, and try once more.
When observed, however, she would sit quietly down, cock her head
cunningly on one side, follow the chain with her eye along its whole
length to its fastening on the floor, walk leisurely to that point,
hesitating a moment, and then make another plunge. All this time she
would eye her master sharply, and if he moved, she would fall down on
the floor at once, and pretend to be asleep.
She was a very neat and cleanly creature, everlastingly brushing her
clothes, and bathing regularly in a bath of snow provided for her in the
cabin. This last operation was her great delight. She would throw up
the white flakes with her diminutive nose, rolling about and burying
herself in them, wipe her face with her soft paws, and then mount to the
side of the tub, looking round her knowingly, and barking the prettiest
bark that ever was heard. This was her way of enforcing admiration; and
being now satisfied with her performance, she would give a goodly number
of shakes to her sparkling coat, then, happy and refreshed, crawl into
her airy bed in the bull's-eye, and go to sleep.
Mr Hayes does not tell us what became of Birdie. I am afraid that her
fate was a sad one.