When the hunters next sighted the chase Red Fox was only fifteen rods ahead.
He then tried running in a brook for a score of rods, but this merely served to wet his coat, while old Bugler picked up the fresh trail on the other side without the slightest difficulty. From this futile attempt to discomfort the pack, he tried the railroad track, running for several rods upon a rail where he would leave little scent, and then springing into some bushes down a steep bank, but this also gained him little advantage.
For another hour, the chase led across the open country, but it was getting more desperate with each mile passed. Red Fox was lolling, his tongue out, although the chase was only two hours old, and his brush had begun to droop, a sure sign that he was tired.
This open country running was clearly not his kind of a game, especially with old Bugler leading the pack, so he took to cover whenever it offered. This would have worked out well and might have given him some advantage, had he not been playing in bad luck. Once he
