the open fields to the edge of the brushy hollow back of the old
mill. As my head rose to a view of the hollow I caught sight of a
fox trotting at long range down the other side, in line to cross my
course. Instantly I held motionless, and did not even lower or turn
my head lest I should catch his eye by moving, until he went on
out of sight in the thick cover at the bottom. As soon as he was
hidden I bobbed down and ran to head him off where he should
leave the cover on the other side, and was there in good time
awaiting, but no fox came forth. A careful look showed the fresh
track of a fox that had bounded from the cover, and following it
with my eye I saw old Scarface himself far out of range behind me,
sitting on his haunches and grinning as though much amused.

A study of the trail made all clear. He had seen me at the moment I
saw him, but he, also like a true hunter, had concealed the fact,
putting on an air of unconcern till out of sight, when he had run for
his life around behind me and amused himself by watching my still
born trick.

In the springtime I had yet another instance of Scarface's cunning.
I was walking with a friend along the road over the high pasture.
We passed within thirty feet of a ridge on which were several gray
and brown boulders. When at the nearest point my friend said:

"Stone number three looks to me very much like a fox curled up."

But I could not see it, and we passed. We had not gone many yards
farther when the wind blew on this boulder as on fur.

My friend said, "I am sure that is a fox, lying asleep."