But for all their seeming unconsciousness, their little ears were keenly alive to sound. For when the mother fox suddenly gave the sharp warning bark which is the signal of approaching danger, four out of the five cubs scurried instantly back to the den.
The fifth cub, either because he was more stupid than the others, or more daring, stayed where he was, sitting up on his little haunches and moving his head from side to side as if to assure himself there was no need to hurry home when there was such an unexpected chance of having the grouse-bone all to himself.
And Dusty Star was not the only watcher of the disobedient cub.
Between him and that other watcher was less than a dozen paces, but as the boy had arrived on the spot a little earlier, and was now as motionless as the tree behind which he peeped, the Catamount was still unaware of his presence. Screened by a thick bush and a tangle of creepers, the great cat watched its opportunity with a mouth that quivered.
His first instinct on seeing the cubs was to retreat immediately with the same caution as he had approached. Various unpleasant experiences had already taught him the danger of interfering with young animals whose parents are likely to be within springing distance. But although he looked from side to side with the utmost care, not the merest whisker-tip of any parent was visible.
It was precisely at this moment that the mother-fox had uttered her cry of warning. What had startled her neither Dusty Star nor Catamount knew.
Over the trackless barrens, along the runways of hare, mink, and fisher, down the world-old trails of the journeying caribou, there have always travelled—there still travel—mysterious warnings that convey themselves to the hunted creature neither by sight, sound nor smell. And when the warning comes, all wise creatures seek the cunning of their feet.
At the cry, the startled Catamount crouched back into the bush; and if the fifth cub had followed the example of his brothers and sisters, the great cat would have retreated as he came; but the sight of that plump, furry little Disobedience, that sat there on its little tail impudently defying the world, almost within reach, was too great a temptation to resist.
The Catamount threw another piercing glance all round the locality. The mother fox gave no sign of her presence. If he wanted the furry Disobedience, it was now, or never. He crept forward half a pace and gathered his legs under him for a spring.
The movement he made was very slight; but it was sufficient to betray him to Dusty Star. Instantly the boy realized the danger threatening the cub, but before he could do anything, a lightning streak of fur flashed out of the bush, and hurled itself on the cub.