RED BEN IS ALONE
Nervously Red Ben wandered out of the laurel and up the Ridge. Something
seemed to lead him in that direction. Ahead rang the clear notes of the
eager hound and another sound, the sharp yelp of Shep; the fox terrier
had dropped far behind. Then Red Ben caught a glimpse of a brilliantly
red body weaving its way among the laurel clumps, his mother, at last!
Down the Ridge he loped to meet her, into her path, directly before her.
Joyfully he sprang to lick her lips in greeting.
She stopped, but only for an instant. Her mouth was open, the hot breath
came in quick pants, and her beautiful tail dragged the ground.
Had something gone wrong? Red Ben had only to listen to the coming hound
to know. In her own hilly country beyond the river, the mother could
have dodged the dogs and lost them among the rocks, but on this luckless
morning in the flat Barrens, when there was no wind, and when the damp
ground held the scent no matter how she broke and twisted the trail,
they could not be shaken off.
She loped bravely on, with Red Ben close behind. On the Ridge, every
part of which she knew so well, it might be possible to fool the hound
before her strength gave way. She went to the top, then tried the trick
of making two circles and running back on her trail until there was a
good chance to leap far to one side. If the dogs did not see her, nor
find where the trail began again after her great leap, she would be
safe. Up to this time Red Ben had stayed with her, listening, watching,
scheming as he ran. Now he deliberately went in the other direction,
leaving the double track just in time to miss being seen. Up the Ridge
behind him rushed the dogs in full cry. But suddenly there was quiet;
they were trying to unravel the trail at the place where the foxes
doubled back.
When next Red Ben heard them they were strangely near. He ran to the
other side of the Ridge, but heard them still--they were following him!
No longer was the mother between. It was Red Ben now who had to show his
cunning.
Down to Cranberry Swamp he ran and through it to a log he knew about,
which lay across Goose Creek. Beyond this was more swamp and then
another long stretch of the Pine Barrens.
Red Ben, hot, mud splashed and winded, was loping through the Barrens,
clambering under fallen trees, running along the tops of logs and doing
everything else he could think of to make the trail hard to follow, when
all at once an animal sprang up from its bed almost under his nose.
Red Ben whirled back as he recognized the furious snarl of Gray Fox! The
hound and Shep could be no worse than this enemy. What ill luck had
brought him here? He ran the way he had come, dodging under the fallen
trees as before, until close ahead he heard the dogs, coming surely and
fast. Then with a mighty leap to one side, such as his mother had made,
he left a gap in the trail and ran in a new direction. The hound lost
his trail, found the fresh one of Gray Fox, and after a moment's
hesitation followed it straight away into the Pine Barrens. Red Ben was
saved!
Now he could rest and enjoy the music of the chase and wonder how Gray
Fox liked it all; but soon he started back to find his mother. Fear was
gone. He had done big things.
Night found Red Ben still alone. The old fox had not come to the bed
under the fallen tree in Cranberry Swamp, so all alone he curled up and
slept. Towards morning he crawled stiffly out and wandered over to the
Ridge. It was strangely quiet and deserted there too. Red Ben stood
beside a great oak and called. It was just a short, lonely cry, but had
the mother heard it she would have answered and come bounding to find
him.
For a long time he waited there, hopefully. Then he called again and
waited, and still again; but that time there was such a lonely wail in
the cry that Jim Crow and his mate came flying over, to find out what
was going on. They saw Red Ben crouching miserably against the butt of
the old oak, and at once set up a great cawing.
If there is anything unusual happening in the woods, a crow will call
together all the other crows within hearing, to look into the matter.
That is why _every_ crow knows so much; what one finds, all are given a
chance to see.
Red Ben, sick at heart and more lonely than ever, slipped into the
bushes and hid. This was the best thing he could have done, for when the
flock of crows could no longer see him, they feared he might be playing
some trick on them. Up they flew with more cawing and scolding; but
there was no fun in scolding an animal that could not be seen, so one
after another drifted away and left him.
He called no more, but wandered about the Ridge where he had last seen
his mother. In this way he came to the place in which Ben Slown had
crouched with his gun the day before. He examined the spilled tobacco
and tracks in the path, then sniffed them all over again. Impossible as
it seemed for his mother's and Ben Slown's tracks to be found together,
he had nevertheless caught a trace of her scent here.
He did not know that while he led the hound into the Barrens beyond the
Swamp, the tired mother had started after him along the path where
crouched the waiting, sinister figure of the farmer. He only knew that
she had gone, leaving him--the fatherless, brotherless, playmateless
little fox pup of Oak Ridge--alone.