He ran toward Sharp Eyes, and so did some other men who heard the cry. If they had had some dogs to help them they might have caught the fox. But Sharp Eyes could run faster than the fastest man, and he was in among the farthest trees before the keepers had reached the first ones.
“Now I must hide,” said Sharp Eyes to himself. “If I can find a hollow log I’ll crawl in that.”
But the woods of the park were not like those of the north, where the fox had lived. There were no fallen trees or hollow logs.
Sharp Eyes heard the men running after him and shouting. They were getting nearer and nearer. He must find some place to hide. He looked all about him, and, at last, saw a little hollow place, filled with dried leaves, beneath the roots of a tree.
Quickly scraping the ground away with his fore paws, the silver fox made the hole a little larger. Then he crawled down into it, and managed to scatter some leaves about on top of the hole, so that it did not show very plainly.
Sharp Eyes was hidden in this hole when the men from the park rushed into the patch of woods.
“Do you see that fox?” asked one man.
“No, he must have run right on,” answered another.
Even while they said this the men stood near the hole in which Sharp Eyes was hidden. But they could not see him on account of the leaves he had brushed over himself. Dogs could have smelled the fox, but the noses of the men were not keen enough for this. Nor were they hunters or trappers, who might have seen the marks left by Sharp Eyes’ feet in the soft dirt.
So the animal keepers passed right on, leaving the silver fox in the hole. And then his heart stopped beating so fast, for he felt that he was safe, at least for a time, and might, at last, get far, far away.