GRAY FOX
At first Red Ben saw no other foxes, and rarely came across the tracks
of any, for Ben Slown's traps did their work well. There was, however,
one cunning old fellow who paid a visit to the Ridge whenever there was
especially good hunting weather. With him, on one never to be forgotten
night in late August, Red Ben had an adventure.
He and his mother had gone to Ben Slown's fields to hunt the little
short tailed meadow mice which were so plentiful there that their paths
had been gnawed through the grass in every direction. They had caught
two, and were once more entering Oak Ridge wood, when Red Ben noticed
that his mother hesitated to go farther and kept anxiously looking into
the shadows. He heard a deer snort; then, in the half darkness of the
wood, he caught the glint of two eyes.
This new creature was certainly no coon or possum; the eyes were higher
above the ground than either of these would hold its head. Quickly it
moved into the moonlight and showed itself to be a fox, not unlike the
mother in form, but gray in color, with reddish legs and a tail entirely
lacking the beautiful roundness of the red fox's.
Instinctively the pup stood as straight and tall as he could, while
along his back the hair fairly tingled with dislike. He saw his mother
try to slip away, and then crouch suddenly with ears back and warning
whine. He saw Gray Fox trot up, walk around her, and then bare his teeth
in a snarl that sent off the soft-eyed mother in a hurry. How his heart
pounded then, and how the fury welled up in his breast!
Gray Fox next turned in the direction of Red Ben, but stopped short when
he found the young fox facing him without flinching. Stiff legged and
disdainful he slowly walked forward, and got the surprise of his life as
Red Ben flew at him like a fury, bit him on the side of the head, again
on the foot when he reared up, and then on the tip of his precious nose.
Back he staggered, snarling angrily, but scarcely knowing what to do.
Then Red Ben, remembering well the holds his mother had taught in their
games, flew at his thick neck, caught the heavy, loose skin behind the
ear and closed his sharp teeth until they nearly met.
Gray Fox's red eyes glared back at him furiously, as he struggled this
way and that, but he could not turn to bite while those jaws kept their
hold. Fear grew until he was in a panic. What if the mother fox were to
return now and fall on him from behind? He threw himself on the ground,
then rolled over, clawing like a cat, and dragging Red Ben down with him
so suddenly that all the breath was knocked out of him and his fine hold
loosened.
This gave Gray Fox a wonderful chance. He was the first on his feet. He
leaped for the throat hold.
Red Ben, still gasping, was pinned to the ground, almost throttled. The
big, heavy enemy had all the advantage--it never had been an equal
fight, and now Red Ben was down.
Oh, if his mother would only come! That wonderful, faithful, swift
little mother who could be so very fierce when he was in danger. Somehow
the very thought of her gave him courage. He made one mighty kick and at
the same instant snapped at the fat ear of the beast above.
Luck was with him; he nipped its tender edge, and Gray Fox gave a
scream. The jaws were loosened, and in that instant Red Ben's lightning
speed saved him. He rolled over, leaped to his feet and shot away.
Dizzily he circled some bushes, with the other close behind; then
something warned him to stop. Gray Fox had vanished.
[Illustration: "Gray Fox was waiting to trap him"]
Had he not been a red fox, raised by one of the wisest of mothers, Red
Ben would probably have made a fatal mistake, for, well hidden behind
the bushes, Gray Fox was waiting to trap him when he came around. The
thing was planned so well that had Red Ben kept on, he would almost have
walked into the other's mouth.
Just in time he guessed the trick and crouched to look all around. He
was out of breath; he could hardly stop his panting to listen. His neck
ached and strained muscles quivered, but what mattered that, when he was
free and able to match wits against wits?
Often his mother had hidden this way to catch him in their games. He
remembered now that she had always lain in wait somewhere ahead,
therefore Gray Fox would do the same--the safest road was that by which
he had come.
Dodging bushes and shadowy places he started back. There was no sound,
no movement anywhere ahead; the noise and fury of the fight had scared
away the other wild things and even quieted the night singing insects.
Red Ben himself felt the awe of it all. He moved without stirring a
leaf, at first in a cautious trot, then a gallop and at last a full run.
Faster, faster--until on the hard woods path he let out every ounce of
speed he had. It was the wonderful speed of the red fox, no longer just
a cub.
[Illustration: Red Ben]
Gray Fox was left far behind: and to prevent his following the trail,
Red Ben made circles in the dense swamp, circles that went around and
around with apparently no end, for he leaped far to one side before
shooting away to his old haunt by the fallen tree.
Here he crouched, waiting for whatever might happen next. Had Gray Fox
been able to follow him, Red Ben would have fought to the death. He was
on home ground here; he would run no more. His spirit had not been
broken; far from it! From the bottom of his heart he despised the big
gray bully. He hated the strong smell of him still lingering in his
nostrils. But he knew Gray Fox was the stronger.
When, after hours of searching, his mother at last found him, the fierce
glitter was still in his eyes. He was crouching in the same spot,
watching with all the intense excitement of the young creature which,
for the first time, is forced to take care of itself in a big world.
Anxiously sniffing his head and neck, the old fox quickly learned
through the scent much of the story of the fight. She found the cuts
about the throat and licked them free from poison. She also licked off
the dirt that still clung to his soft fur, looked him all over for other
scars, and then mothered him until his high strung nerves were soothed
and he limped stiffly after her for a sleep under the fallen tree.
While he curled up in a round ball, with head buried between his fluffy
tail and the even softer fur of his flank, the mother kept watch. She
too was curled up in a tight, comfortable little ball, but she kept her
chin resting on her fluffy tail so that her nose and eyes as well as
both ears could be on guard.
The moon had gone down, and around them now were the blackness and the
stillness of that weird part of the night which comes just before the
light of day. Night prowlers, large and small, were resting, waiting for
the Sun's signal which would drive them to their beds. Day loving
creatures felt the coming of the dawn, but dared not stir yet. The red
fox's eyes drowsily closed, then opened with a snap: from far away
floated the clear baying of a hound.