“You can have mine,” declared Amos Grice. “I have a couple of guns up in the store that I’ll let you have. And if you can drill them two foxes I’ll be mighty grateful to you.”
The Hardy boys and their chums were at once enthusiastic over the idea of a fox-hunt. Amos Grice provided Chet and Biff with rifles while Frank and Joe hastened to get their own weapons. Amos Grice even insisted on lending them his dog.
“If there’s any foxes within five miles, that dog will dig ’em out,” he said. “Only be sure and not shoot my dog.”
“We’ll be careful,” promised the boys.
“Just follow those tracks in the snow and you’ll come right to the den, I’ll bet a cookie,” declared the old man.
“Let’s go!” shouted Joe. “We’ll bring back your foxes, Mr. Grice.”
“Sure will,” added Chet jubilantly.
The boys started off through the deep snow, following the double trail up the hillside.
The dog was a lanky, mournful looking brute who seemed too lazy, as Chet expressed it, “to wag his own tail,” but he lived up to his master’s recommendation. The moment the boys started following the trail, the dog seemed to have a new interest in life, and he plodded on ahead, sniffing at the trail left by the marauding foxes.
The snow was deep but the boys thoroughly enjoyed the excitement of the chase.