they should have been, but also their education in regard to poison and traps had not been completed. It was Fuzzy's fate to succumb to the trapper's art. Neither Redcoat nor Cross Fox ever knew just what happened to her. All they knew was that she went away one moonlight night to hunt mice in the meadows and did not come back.
A couple of weeks later, Cross Fox and Redcoat were hunting mice one morning in the meadows on their own side of the river. They were so intent on their hunting that danger stole upon them unawares, for the Fox Club got between them and the mountain and picked up their trail and the chase was on. The two foxes kept together and led the hounds a merry chase far down the river. After a couple of hours, they doubled back along the way they had come, wishing to get back to the mountain where they felt there was some safety. Redcoat had far outrun his brother and was perhaps a quarter of a mile ahead when a new danger arose, for one of the men suddenly appeared upon the trail one hundred feet behind Cross Fox
