“I guess we’ll be lucky if we get a good shot at one of them,” returned his companion. “Foxes are very sly chaps.”
“Oh, I know that.”
“Let us go up the river a bit, so as to get out of that wind. They can smell your scent if the wind is blowing from you to them.”
They moved up the river about twenty yards, and then made a semi-circle toward the shore. Here they found a small creek, and up this they moved as silently as possible.
“We must be getting close to one of the fellows,” whispered Boxy. “That sound came from this vicinity.”
“Hush, Boxy, he may——”
Harry did not finish, for at that instant a bark sounded so closely to them that both sprang back in alarm. A little open glade was before them, and directly in the center of it both boys discovered a silver gray fox, standing with one forefoot raised, listening for an answer to his call.
CHAPTER XI.
A LUCKY SHOT.
Boxy was about to say something, but Harry quickly placed his hand over his companion’s mouth and motioned him to remain silent.
Then he raised his gun, and pointed to Boxy to do the same.