him so many times. As he lay in the box trap while the automobile rattled rapidly along the smooth road, Redcoat rested his muzzle on his paws and waited the next move of his captor. He was ready for any chance that might offer, but whether that chance would be given him or not, was what troubled him.
Redcoat lay listening to the purring motor of the little car, while all that he loved and knew was left rapidly behind. Did he dream of the den in the spruces, or the green meadows where the mice were so plenty, or the great river, or was he thinking of Fluffy and the pups which would be born in a few days without a sire to guard the den, or to hunt for the mother fox? Who shall say? For what naturalist knows just where instinct leaves off and intelligence begins, or how far the wild animals penetrate the domain of man.
After an hour and a half of fast driving Bud wheeled up to Mr. Jennings' house, and they were at the Sheerfield Silver Fox Farm, famed throughout the country.
