The hunter, with his dogs and gun, came to the place where he had set the trap and baited it with a chicken.
“Something has been here!” said the man. “The trap is sprung, but there is nothing here now. I wonder what it was and how it got away.”
His dog smelled around the trap, and then ran off through the woods, barking. The dog had smelled the path taken by Don and Sharp Eyes, and was after them—on the “trail” as the hunters say.
The hunter looked at the trap more closely. He saw some bits of hair on the jaws.
“It must have been a fox,” said the hunter. “But the hairs are of silver color, and not red like most foxes! A silver fox! If I could capture him it would be great! Silver fox skins are rare! I must set another kind of trap for this fox. I wonder how he got away.”
The hunter could not guess that Don, the kind dog, had helped the fox to get free, and was now running with him through the woods. The hunter’s own particular hunting dog was also on the trail of the fox, but pretty soon he came to a brook. There the fox smell stopped.
The dog barked and howled, and ran up and down the stream, but he could not smell the fox any more, and that is the only way he had of following—by the smell, or “scent.”
“Come on back,” said the hunter, as he followed on and saw where his dog had stopped. “The fox has crossed running water, and the trail is lost. I’ll set a better trap for him next time—one that will capture him alive. It would be a pity to spoil that fine silver pelt in a spring trap, or by shooting. Come on!”
The hunter whistled to his dog, and they went back through the woods, giving up the chase for that day. When running away, Sharp Eyes and Don had been cute enough to go into the running water and wade part way up the brook.
The brook left no smell of the paws of Don or of Sharp Eyes, and the hunter’s hound could not follow. When they can, wild animals will always cross a stream, or wade up or down it, to lose their scent so hunting dogs can not follow.