The fox was not a foot from the edge of the pool when, still speeding wildly, the boy bent down and made one wild grab.
“Got him!” he shouted exultantly. But wait! Ten seconds more and the fox’s ivory teeth were flashing in his very face. He seemed to feel them tearing at his nose. There was nothing to do but drop him. With a suddenness, startling even to the fox, the boy let go.
Down dropped the fox. On sped the boy. When Lawrence reached the spot the fox had vanished into a hole and Johnny was skating slowly, mournfully back.
“Never mind,” Lawrence consoled. “We’ll get him another time.”
“But a silver fox and a beauty!” Johnny exclaimed. “Think of losing him!”
“I have thought.” Lawrence was able to grin in spite of his disappointment. “It would have meant a lot and now—” he chuckled, “now we know it’s a real silver fox after our chickens. We’ll have to lock them in a vault.”
“Not as bad as that,” said Johnny. “But Lawrence,” his voice dropped. “This must remain a deep secret. Not a word to anyone. If Jim and Jack Mayhorn knew about this there’d be a trap on every foot of the river.”
“Never a word,” Lawrence agreed.
They were a rather disconsolate pair as they pulled off their skates a half hour later.
“To think!” Johnny groaned. “I had my hands on five hundred dollars, perhaps a thousand dollars worth of fox and had to drop it because it was too hot.”