rats, yet he was not averse to bagging a fine fox. The rat's skin might be worth two or three dollars, but a fox's such as that the Red Hunter wore was worth at least twenty-five.
It was mere accident that the boy discovered the fox crouched in the bushes. At first he thought it an old log, and he had to look for a long time before he satisfied himself.
Even then he would not have been sure had not the fox moved his head slightly. This was enough for Bud. Here was such hunting as he had not even dreamed of in his wildest moments, so he snapped the rifle to his shoulder, and took a hurried aim. He was so excited, and the fox skin looked like such a great prize to him, that he did not take pains enough with his aim, otherwise the fox family would have lost their hunter that morning.
But as it was, the bullet struck the fox a glancing blow just over the eye, and glanced off his skull, although it cut a bad gash, and
