“They tell me you’ve been after a fox, Nathan; did you catch him?”
“No, ’n I don’t cal’late to try agin nuther, he’s airnt his livi’ fer all me;” and with an impetuous fling he sent the old trap into a corner of the wood-shed.
I am soon by his side, anxious to hear all about it. “What’s the fox done?” I ask, eagerly.
“What hain’t he done, yeu better say. I never see nuthin’ t’ beat it since uz born, ’n I’ve ketched tew er three on ’em afore naow, teu. I’ve heern tell o’ them critters’ cunnin’, but I swaiou I alliz thort ez haow folks wuz coddi’; but thar, yeu can’t tell me nuthin’ ’baout foxes. It’s nigh cum a fortnit thet I’ve been arter thet feller, ’n I swar teu gosh all hemlock! I hain’t got so much’s one on his pesky red hairs teu show for’t, ’n I’m sick on’t. I tell ye that ar feller is mischievouser than pizen, ’n his hed’s as long as a horse’s.”
“Why, what’s he been doing, Nathan?”
“Doin’? why fer considerable of a spell back he’s bin hangin’ raoun’ my hen-roost an’ pickin’ off my brammys; thet’s what he’s bin doin’, ’n the fust time I sot the trap I stuck it under some chaff in the hole yender in the hen-haouse jest arter the hens hed gone ter roost—cal’latin’
haired thief hez knabbed every tarnal pattridge ’n Bob White they iz.”
And so he went on for half an hour, telling me all the various stratagems by which Reynard had outwitted him.
“I set it thar in the pine woods in a bed of pine needles, with the ded rabbit hangin’ over it, ’n the next day I see by the scratched up dirt haow the feller hed jumped clean over the trap at a lick, ’n taken his rabbit on a fly. Yeu kin laff; but what I’m tellin’ ye is az true az preachin’. So yest’d’y I lit aout on a new idee, ’n set the trap on top a stump cluss teu a tree ’n covered it with leaves. I hung the bait on the tree higher up, ’n sez I, old feller, I’ve got ye naow, sez I. I left it thar. I went daown thar agin this mornin’, ’n I’ve jest cum from thar. No more fox fer me; s’elp me gosh!”