10 THE LIFE OF A FOX.

ever there was danger, with a peculiar noise

that she made, like “keck, keck ;” which we no
sooner heard than we were out of sight in the
covert, where we stayed until all was still again.
As we grew older, we grew more bold and
more cunning; and being four months old,
ventured farther abroad, even in the day time

entering the fields of standing corn, until it was

cut down, when the deeds we did there were

suddenly brought to light.

“Why, John,” says the farmer, “ there must
be some young foxes hereabouts; look at the
rabbits’ feet lying about: and what’s the meaning
of all these white feathers? This comes of not
locking up the fowls o’ nights. Never blame
the foxes, poor craturs; but just go to the
kennel, and tell Foster, the huntsman, as soon
as the corn is off, to bring his hounds.” “ Very
well, sir.’ ‘ But mind, he a’nt to kill more than
one of em, or else be hanged if ever I takes ‘care
of another litter.”

All this was explained to me afterwards, for

at the time I did not understand much about