For many days I went there and saw much of the training of the
young ones. They early learned to turn to turn to statuettes sound,
and then on hearing it again or finding other cause for fear, to run
for shelter.

Some animals have so much mother-love that it over flows and
benefits outsiders. Not so old Vixen it would seem. Her pleasure in
the cubs led to most refined cruelty. For she often brought home to
them mice and birds alive, and with diabolic gentleness would
avoid doing them serious hurt so that the cubs might have larger
scope to torment them.

There was a woodchuck that lived over in the hill orchard. He was
neither handsome nor interesting, but he knew how to take care of
himself. He had dug a den between the roots of an old pine stump,
so that the foxes could not follow him by digging. But hard work
was not their way of life; wits they believed worth more then
elbowgrease. This woodchuck usually sunned himself on the
stump each morning. If he saw a fox near he went down in the
door of his den, or if the enemy was very near he went inside and
stayed long enough for the danger to pass.

One morning Vixen and her mate seemed to decide that it was
time the children knew something about the broad subject of
Woodchucks, and further that this orchard woodchuck would serve
nicely for an object-lesson. So they went together to the
orchard-fence unseen by old Chuckie on his stump. Scarface then
showed himself in the orchard and quietly walked in a line so as to
pass by the stump at a distance, but never once turned his head or
allowed the ever-watchful woodchuck to think himself seen. When