Redcoat/Chapter 6
ANYONE who has ever seen that rare sight, a litter of fox pups at play while the old fox looks on, will agree with the statement that the fox family are very playful. The expression "as playful as a kitten," is proverbial, but "as playful as a fox" is almost as true. Few people, with the exception of woodsmen, or those who spend much time out of doors have ever been fortunate enough to behold this rare scene. This is because the foxes both young and old are very wary, and hide or flee away at the slightest alarm. One of the old foxes is always on guard, watching for danger while the little ones play, so it is hard to spy upon them. Also, the fox is so protectively colored, that it is hard to see him any time but in winter.
No litter of kittens ever played with more abandon than will a litter of small foxes. They will chase each other in the wildest sort of a game of tag, which usually ends in a rough and tumble, with a sham fight at the end. These sham fights, when the young foxes become half grown, are often quite serious scraps. Nor does this liking for play die out when the fox attains his full growth. I have on several occasions seen full grown foxes playing tag, or a sort of chasing game, upon the meadows, at about sunrise. First one would chase and the other run. Then they would face each other for several seconds, but soon they were off again.
Down on the last shoulder of Redcoat's mountain, was a pasture. It was mostly open, although there were some trees in it farther up the mountainside. It was in this pasture that Farmer Holcome kept those stupid animals, his cattle. It was Redcoat who thought of them as stupid. Redcoat had often spied upon the farmer when he came to look after the cattle. On these occasions Scottie, the farm dog, always accompanied the man. The dog could drive the cattle as well as the man could, and this rather surprised Redcoat, for he had characterized Scottie as stupid because he had eluded him so many times while thieving about the farm buildings.
In the late fall, when it was getting cold, the man and the dog came out and drove the cattle away, and put them in one of the farm buildings, the barn to be exact. So Redcoat, after the way of a fox, knew that the stupid animals belonged to the man, just as the dog did.
The fox often passed very close to these animals who were always chewing grass. Redcoat thought that very foolish, because grass was only good to eat when one was sick. But, these creatures ate it all the time. When it was very hot, these animals came up into the woods and lay in the shade. Then the fox could spy upon them at will. He had often noted that when Scottie drove the cattle he barked and that made them hurry. Really, it was a very interesting game that the man and the dog played with the stupid animals.
There was one animal in this herd who would not run for Scottie. In fact, he often faced the dog and got angry when he barked at him. He would even paw the ground and make a rumbling noise. One twilight, when Redcoat had strayed down into the pasture, he came upon this animal. He was chewing grass, and Redcoat came up very close to him before he noticed him. When the bull looked up and saw Redcoat so close to him, he snorted, and started to paw the ground. Then just for fun, Redcoat barked at him. This seemed to make him angry, and he pawed still more. So, Redcoat barked again. This time the bull made that deep rumbling sound which was almost as loud as the thunder stick. Really, this was getting quite funny, so the fox barked still more and went close to the angry animal. This was too much for the bull. To have a strange dog come into his pasture and taunt him in this way was more than he could bear. Scottie, he had to endure, but this strange dog had no right to bark at him. So, with a deep bellow he charged full at the fox. Redcoat sprang lightly aside, and for a few seconds skulked in the brush where the bull could not see him. But this play was too much fun to be given up easily, and he soon returned to his game of worrying the great animal. The second time the bull charged more readily than he had the first and the fox had to move lively to get out of his way. My, but this was great fun. He had never had anything quite like it. So, Redcoat returned to the worrying game again and again.
Finally, he had the great animal in a roaring rage, bellowing and charging madly.
When the game was at its very highest pitch, and Redcoat was having the time of his life, the man appeared in a distant portion of the pasture and began whistling, and calling, "Here, you Scottie. You come here. What are you doing? Come here." Redcoat shot into the bushes like a flash, and ran for fifteen minutes. He had been so intent upon the game he had not seen the man or scented him until he was in plain sight. He must be more careful. The man might have the thunder stick with him.
That evening, when Farmer Holcome came back from salting the cattle he was quite disturbed.
"There is one thing, Bud, that Scottie has got to stop doing, if he is to be a cattle dog. He has got to stop worrying the bull. Why he had him in a great temper to-night. He will make him cross. I am not going to have it."
"When was it?" asked Bud, quick to defend his friend. "I never saw Scottie worry the bull. When did he do it?"
"Not half an hour ago. I saw him when I was up salting the cattle."
"Why Dad, you must be mistaken," said Bud in surprise. "Scottie has been with me doing the chores all the time you have been gone. He has been lying on the barn floor."
"I guess I know when I see him worrying the bull," said Mr. Holcome, suspicious that Bud was defending Scottie, without reason.
"Honest Dad, he has been here all the time," returned Bud.
Father and son looked into each other's eyes and Mr. Holcome knew that Bud spoke the truth.
"Well," he said, "I don't see what in the dickens it was worrying the bull."
"I don't know about that," returned Bud. "But, it wasn't Scottie."
From tantalizing the big bull in the pasture to playing with Brown Buck was an easy and natural step, but it was quite a different proposition, for while the bull was slow and cumbersome Brown Buck was quick and agile, and he sprang like lightning and charged like a fury.
His favorite retreat was in the rabbits' swamp, three miles east of the den in the spruces, but Brown Buck often left this fastness and wandered along the mountainside and into the pasture, where he sometimes even mingled with the cattle. Occasionally, he had a doe with him, with a little spotted fawn following at her flank, but more often Brown Buck was alone, for he was a rather morose animal, fond of his own company. When Redcoat first discovered him, he was in the pasture not far from the herd of cattle and the fox thought him one of the herd. But, when he started barking at the Buck as he had at the big bull, he discovered his mistake.
Brown Buck at first did not pay very much attention to the fox, but when the barking and teasing became too persistent he snorted and stamped and finally charged at the mischievous fellow.
Redcoat had no trouble in eluding the bull, but the Buck was a different proposition. He could spring a dozen feet at a bound, and his hoofs came down like piledrivers. Redcoat had to twist and turn and barely escaped being trampled, but he finally eluded his pursuer in a tangle of underbrush.
It was dangerous business, playing with this tall, agile animal, and Redcoat did not attempt it again for many days.
But, finally the spirit of mischief became too much for him. Hectoring the Buck was playing with lightning, but Redcoat did not know it.
This time, Brown Buck did not wait to be teased, but charged furiously, snorting and stamping. Out and in Redcoat raced, through brambles and thickets, the death dealing hoofs coming down again and again in the spot where the agile fox had been a second before.
At last, in an unfortunate moment, Redcoat stepped upon a thorn which pierced the pad of his forefoot. For a second he flinched and his attention was distracted from his pursuer. This moment almost cost him his life, for Brown Buck's hoofs again came down like a piledriver, and struck the fox a glancing blow on the shoulder.
Redcoat needed no further punishment to acquaint him with his danger, and he ran for the deep woods as he had never run before, regardless of the thorn in his foot. At this point in the mad chase, Bud Holcome appeared and began whistling shrilly and calling, "Scottie! Scottie! Scottie!"
But, in shorter time than it takes to tell it, the fox and his pursuer had disappeared in the deep woods, where Redcoat soon gave the Buck the slip.
"Dad," said Bud Holcome to his father when he returned to the farmhouse an hour later, "Scottie has got to stop his playfulness or he will lose his skin one of these days. I saw him up in the pasture just now. I suppose he thought he was teasing the bull, but instead he was hectoring a big Buck, and he mighty near got him."
"Why," said Mr. Holcome, "that is strange, Scottie has been in the garden with me all the time you were gone."
It was Bud's turn to look astonished.
"But I saw him with my own eyes, Dad, and he and the Buck had a regular's 'set-to.'"
"I can't help it, Bud," returned Mr. Holcome, "he's been here with me all the time you were gone."
Perhaps the strangest and most interesting thing that came under the observation of Redcoat during his entire life was the mighty thunderer. This strange monster ran upon the two shiny sticks that Redcoat himself had often used when trying to elude the hounds. It was true that these sticks had the same smell that the old steel trap had, that Redcoat's sire had shown him, and also the woodcutter's axe, of which he had smelled when he was a pup. His sire had told him that this scent was very dangerous and to always keep away from it, but Redcoat had discovered for himself that these long, shiny sticks did him no harm when he traveled upon them and they held little or no scent for the hounds to follow. The great thunderer was often seen passing north and south beyond the broad river to the west of Redcoat's mountain. It was also seen a mile and a half to the north of the mountain beyond the Holcome farm. If it was night-time, the thunderer had a large bright eye in his head and it shone through the darkness far ahead of him along his strange trail. Also, there was a red light behind, but this was smaller and not as bright as the light ahead.
Several times Redcoat had been very close to the trail when the thunderer passed, and the din that it made gave him a great fright, for the thunderer snorted and shrieked and whistled and made the earth tremble beneath Redcoat's feet.
Six miles to the east of the fox den, the trail of the thunderer turned to the South and ran between some hills. Here there was a place for an eighth of a mile where the thunderer's trail had such steep banks that it was almost impossible for either a man or an animal to climb up out of the trail.
One day, Redcoat in a curious mood, went down the trail through this deep cut. He had come to the further end, when looking a mile or so down the trail he saw the smoke that the thunderer always made, and then he heard the strange sound that the thunderer sometimes gave. If he would get back through the deep cut Redcoat must hurry. He had outrun a pack of swift hounds the week before and he felt very sure of his own fleetness. The thunderer could not catch him.
But as Redcoat scurried down the deep cut, the din of the oncoming train behind him grew at an alarming rate. Redcoat put forth his utmost strength and ran belly to earth. He had never run from the hounds like this. But, do what he would the roaring came nearer and nearer, and presently the thunderer again emitted that terrible shriek, which echoed from hill top to hill top. To the fleeing fox it was like the crack of doom. Presently the rails beneath Redcoat's flying feet were clicking and he knew the mighty monster was close upon him.
But, just at that moment when a terrible death had almost clutched him, the frantic fox espied a little cleft in the rock three or four feet from the ground. If he could only reach it and spring upon it perhaps the thunderer would pass by and not destroy him. So, he put every ounce of his remaining strength into the effort. A dozen frantic jumps brought him to this one chance of escape. He sprang, but his forepaws held for a moment on the ledge, then slipped off and he fell back upon the track. Once again, summoning the last ounce of his strength and in utter terror, Redcoat sprang for his life, and this time he made the shelf.
With a roar like the loudest thunder, and a shriek of the whistle, and a clang of the bell, and the sound of rushing wind, the thunderer tore by, leaving poor Redcoat cowering upon the shelf that had saved him. When the thunderer had passed, he jumped quickly down from his retreat and made all haste out of the cut. Never again did Redcoat use this short cut through the hills.