THE LIFE OF A FOX, 21

My state was such that I could not be still,
as I ought, and I kept moving backwards and
forwards and away from the cry of the hounds,
which at times hunted us in several packs, then
all together as they crossed each other, and then
again separated. This had gone on for nearly half
an hour when, to my great joy, they all went
away with a frightful yell, leaving the wood and
me miles behind them. I was congratulating myself
on my escape, and listening to hear if they were
returning, when I was startled by the sound of
steps approaching, and a panting, as of some ani-
mal in distress; it was one of my brothers, evidently
more beaten and terrified than myself, and who,
on hearing something move and not knowing it
was I, ran back out of sight in a moment, and I
saw no more of him then. I remained where I
was hidden until I had partly recovered from my
fears, and not hearing the noise of hounds, had
crept into some thick bushes, where I lay quiet,
when to my horror I again heard the holloa of the
huntsman, who seemed to be taking the hounds

round the wood, with now and then the tongue of