But suddenly a deep raucous breathing and a rustle of leaves
showed that Ranger was back. He was cornpletely fagged out. His
tongue hung almost to the ground and was dripping with foam, his
flanks were heaving and spume-flecks dribbled from his breast and
sides. He stopped panting a moment to give my hand a dutiful lick,
then flung himself flop on the leaves to drown all other sounds
with his noisy panting.

But again that tantilizing 'Yap yurrr' was heard a few feet away,
and the meaning of it all dawned on me. We were close to the den
where the little foxes were, and the old ones were taking turns in
trying to lead us away.

It was late night now, so we went home feeling sure that the
problem was nearly solved.

II

It was well known that there was an old fox with his family living
in the neighborhood, but no one supposed them so near.

This fox had been called 'Scarface,' because of a scar reaching
from his eye through and back of his ear; this was supposed to
have been given him by a barbed-wire fence during a rabbit hunt,
and as the hair came in white after it healed it was always a strong
mark.

The winter before I had met with him and had had a sample of his
craftiness. I was out shooting, after a fall of snow, and had crossed