With day came a change in the air. Snow began to fall, very softly, but very thick. Nearly blinded, Red Ben curled up under a laurel bush and waited, while inch by inch the flakes rose on the ground around him. No creature was stirring. There was something so determined in the way the snow fell that they were cowed and glad to hide in their snug beds. All night, too, it snowed, and all the next day. Red Ben lay now in a room of snow; on all sides and on top, except where his breath had thawed a hole, was the white blanket. He was completely snowed in.
CHAPTER XVII
THE OTHER FOX
On the second night the snow stopped falling, but the icy northwest wind came in shrieking blasts, whirling the flakes in every direction. It was a terrible time for any creature without a snug home.
Red Ben’s snow covering was whipped away; in the height of the storm he floundered through the drifts until glad to stop behind a pile of brush which offered some shelter. Here he came across a mink, also snow bound and also half famished. There was an ominous glitter in the old mink’s eye. Hunger was making him dangerous. Red Ben crouched warily at the edge of the brush. The mink curled up inside it, fairly bristling with bad temper. Each hungrily watched the other. If the storm kept up there would be a cruel fight, and one of them might never be seen again.
They were still watching each other when morning came. Both had made short trips into the deep snow, only to return disheartened. But the sun at last appeared and turned the world into a shimmering wonderland. It warmed the air and melted the top of the snow so that it would pack under the feet of the small woods creatures. The squirrels came out of their holes in the hollow oaks and rushed to the nearest places in which they remembered having hidden nuts. Crows cawed and walked along the edges of the streams where the water had melted the snow. Wherever tall weeds grew, there was great feasting. Flocks of little juncos and chickadees were picking the seeds out of the dry tops.
The sour old mink slipped out of the brush pile, gave Red Ben a last wicked look, then went bounding away. Now that the snow was melting and heavy, instead of powdery as at first, his wide spreading toes kept him from sinking out of sight.
Red Ben was much heavier and could not spread his toes. He therefore sank up to his middle at every step. The squirrels laughed and barked at him from safe perches; the little birds flew away ahead of him; the crows set up a great racket and swooped at his head as if to pick out his eyes; but still he kept on, hunting for something to eat. Following the bed of the nearest stream, he escaped some of the deepest snow and went a long distance before night. Never before had he travelled so long in daylight, but never had he been so hungry, nor found so little to eat.
The snow froze as soon as the sun sank. Where it had been thawed on top, a hard crust quickly formed. On this, Red Ben could walk cautiously, but not run, because it broke with him so easily. Again and again he saw rabbits and tried to catch them, only to find himself floundering in the snow at the first big jump. After losing one particularly fat one, and seeing its white tail go bobbing away, he suddenly noticed that something was following his own trail. There were shadows that slunk about wherever he went.
Quickly slipping behind a snow covered holly bush, Red Ben waited. A gray form, and then another, came cautiously along, nosing his tracks and looking ahead: a gray fox and his mate. Red Ben sprang up, and the pair floundered back in a panic. But every time he looked around again, they were still following him, watching his every move with a hungry gleam in their eyes such as was in those of the old mink, such as, indeed, was now also coming into his own eyes. Were they hoping he would catch some creature which they could share in eating, or were they hoping to eat him when his strength gave out and he dropped helpless in the treacherous snow?
When hunter grimly hunts hunter in the woods, it is indeed a time of starvation. Not for years had there been such a snow in the Pine Barrens. Red Ben longed for the country he had learned to know so well, the Ridge, Cranberry Swamp and the edge of Ben Slown’s farm lands. There he would know just where to dig for mice under the snow, or to hunt for frozen apples. He stopped every now and then to rest and to flash his keen, white teeth at the two grays. How he would punish them when the snow went away!