Had the weather been less warm, the black-and-gray pup would have used
his sister as a pillow, a blanket, or a mattress, and in that case the
adventure might have ended differently. As it was, his dream fancies
were suddenly dispelled by the coming of a musky, acrid odor that swept
across his small but sensitive nostrils with much the same effect that a
sound box on the ear would have upon a sleeping child.

He awoke with a jerk, to see silhouetted against the irregular path of
sky that was framed by the cave's mouth the figure of a full-grown
mother fox. This vixen was closely related to the red fox to whom this
cave had formerly belonged. She had long since learned of Reynard's end,
of course, and, indeed, had seen his corpse within twenty-four hours of
the execution. Though frequently moved by curiosity, she had never
before ventured so near to the cave and would hardly have been there now
but for the fact that she had seen Desdemona hunting a mile away and
more. Now she peered in at the cave's mouth, informing herself chiefly
through her sharp nose regarding its condition and inhabitants.

The black-and-gray pup snarled furiously, and the vixen leaped backward
on the instant. Reflection made her scornfully ashamed of this movement,
and she stepped delicately forward again. The smaller pup whimpered
fearfully, and that was the poor thing's death-knell. The vixen promptly
broke its neck with one snap of her powerful jaws and dragged the little
creature out into the sunshine. All this time Master Black-and-Gray had
been growling fiercely--his entire small body quivering under the strain
of producing this martial sound. His fat back was pressed hard against
the rear wall of the cave--partly, perhaps, to give him courage, and
partly, no doubt, by way of getting a better purchase, so to say, for
the task of growling, which really required all his small stock of
strength.