The fox, meanwhile, had been gazing around in every direction but the
right one, to try and see where that partridge cry had come from. He
liked partridge, and it was some time since he had had any. All at
once he was surprised and pleased to see a hen partridge, apparently
badly wounded, drop fluttering on the moss almost under his nose. He
sprang forward to seize her, but she managed to flutter feebly out of
his reach. It was obviously her last effort, and he was not in the
least discouraged. She proved, however, to have many such last
efforts, and the last the Child saw of the fox he was still hopefully
jumping at her, as he disappeared from view among the underbrush.
About three minutes later there was a hard whirr of wings, and the
triumphant little mother reappeared. She alighted on the very spot
whence she had first caught sight of the fox, stood for a moment
stiffly erect, while she stared about her with keen, bright eyes, and
then she gave a soft little call. Instantly the chicks were all about
her, apparently springing up out of the ground as at the utterance of a
spell. And proudly she led them away to another feeding ground.

What more the Child might have seen had time been allowed him will
never be known, for now the session was interrupted. He was hoping for
a porcupine to come by, or a deer, or a moose. He was half-hoping,
half-fearing that it might be a bear, or a big Canadian lynx with
dreadful eyes and tufted ears. But before any of these more formidable
wonders arrived he heard a sound of rushing--of eager, desperate
flight. Then a rabbit came into view--he felt sure it was one of the
two who appeared at the beginning of his watch. The poor beast was
plainly in an ecstasy of terror, running violently, but as it were
aimlessly, and every now and then stopping short, all of a-tremble, as
if despair were robbing it of its powers. It ran straight past the
poplar sapling, swerved off to the right, and disappeared; but the