How I wronged this chivalrous old aristocrat in thinking it possible he could use his giant strength to crush the life out of a helpless cub! The old fellow was as friendly as though nothing had happened when, at last, falling rather than leaping, I came down from my perch to try to find relief from the cramp that was knotting my muscles. His awful panting had by that time somewhat subsided; but I was truly sorry to see him in such a deplorable state, and I suppose I showed it in my face, for he said: "Do not grieve on my account, little brother. I shall soon recover from my scratches."
My legs were too stiff to let me lie down, so I stood by his side whilst he licked his wounds and smoothed his ruffled coat, and at nightfall, when he left, I staggered after him as best I could. After drinking at a spring on the way, we came to the earth, from the mouth of which, as I rejoiced to see, the faggots had been removed. There the badger left me and went up the hill toward the farm-land over which he wandered nearly every night in search of food. At what time he returned I do not know, as I did not awake till late the following afternoon, when I was aroused from my deep sleep by the noise he made on resuming his excavations.
There are some things which I would gladly be silent about, but which are necessary to the completeness of my story.
Chief of these are the grievous losses on that day's cub hunting. My little sister and—sadder still—my dear mother were killed by the hounds. It was best they should die together, for the cub was so dependent on the vixen, and the vixen so inseparable from the cub, that I am sure they could not have lived happily apart. Our common trouble drew my surviving sister and myself closer to each other, and for a few weeks we lived together in the earth, though we went our several ways at night, and very seldom hunted in concert.
The close of this period is marked by an event of great moment to myself, which, though it does not redound to my credit, must be told in some detail.
It is necessary first to state that for some reason the hounds gave up coming to our country, and that in their place a murderous gang of ruffians infested the district, and by traps, by poisoned carcasses, by terriers, by digging and by filling the earths with smoke, succeeded in destroying nearly every fox in the countryside. Fortunately our earth proved impregnable to the spade and proof against smoke; whilst the badger made such havoc with the dogs that were sent against us that, after two determined but futile assaults, we were left in peace. For a time we had to exercise the utmost caution in avoiding the numerous traps, which were artfully concealed in the runs leading from the earth; but afterwards these were removed, and we might roam without molestation over our desolate wilds.
Hares had been all but exterminated, and rabbits and wild-fowl so shot down and thinned that it was hard to get a living, and at last my necessities tempted me to that most perilous of undertakings, a raid on the poultry of the neighboring farm. Besides the everlasting crowing of the cocks, I had heard the noise made by the flocks of housed turkeys, geese, and ducks, as I returned at dawn from the empty warren on the dunes; and this had set me longing for them.
I did not enter lightly on this my first foray, which I knew to be fraught with danger. My plans were laid with the fullest deliberation, and in the deep silence of my den I carefully thought out every step in my expedition. One of the strong points of a fox is attention to details. We go over and over every turn, we weigh every chance, and try to foresee every contingency. Indecision and flurry are not in our nature; we know what we are going to do, and we go coolly through with it. Our best-laid schemes may and do miscarry at times; nevertheless, with the overconfidence of cubhood, I really thought that the precautions I meant to take excluded all risks to my skin. Why, I had mapped out in my brain every inch of the incursion; I had selected the best way of approach; I was prepared with the safest line of retreat; and, what is of no small moment, I had arranged for the disposal of the kill, which was likely to be a big one.
Eager as I was to realize my sanguine expectations, I twice postponed my visit, hoping for the cover of a storm that threatened; but on the third night, though the weather had cleared, I resolved to defer the raid no longer. The crescent moon was just above the hill when I stretched myself at the mouth of the earth and set out to put well-matured plans into execution. I walked up the rugged hillside with all the circumspection and gravity becoming a great undertaking, and stayed awhile on the crest to reconnoitre the scene of my operations. The farm-house, the outbuildings, the yards, were all silent. No foot stirred, no bark of dog broke the stillness which brooded over the rugged slope, the smooth fields, and the endless waste of sand beyond.