ble joy, which seemed to extend even to the tip of the tail? When he finally struck the heavily scented trail made by the dragging rope, his eyes flashed and saliva dripped from his jaws. After that he could not go fast enough. Once he stopped at a point where Bud had replenished the odorous stuff on his shoes, and rolled on the ground where the scent was strongest, rubbing his face backward and forward, but he did not tarry long for the reeking charm grew stronger with each rod covered. When he finally reached the clump of bushes where the trap was set, the last shred of his natural suspicion and fox cunning had been lulled to sleep. The only thing in the world he knew or felt was this ravishing scent about him. He wanted to roll in it, to swim in it, to draw it into his nostrils for the rest of his life.
But all the time he had been trotting eagerly up the mountain on Bud's trail, something had suggested caution to him. The guardian of the wild creatures had whispered again and again, "beware, beware."
