"Dad," cried Bud, "get up quick, Dad. That red fox has got one of the young roosters. Here Scottie, here Racer," and Bud whistled for the dogs.
Both canines who slept in the woodshed came running out, Scottie very wide awake, and Racer following more slowly.
"Seek him, Scottie, seek, him," cried Bud, pointing across the road.
Scottie ran to a bar way, and immediately espied the fox with his kill, and with excited barks gave chase, and Racer followed eating up the distance with great graceful bounds.
The house stood upon high ground, and Bud could see the race from his bedroom window, so he stood and watched. The fox had only about two hundred feet start, and, encumbered with the rooster, the dogs would surely overtake him and kill him before he was half across the meadows, so Bud waited and watched.
Bud thought he never in his life saw a fox run as that one did, yet the dogs, especially Racer, the greyhound, gained
