The Fox and the Hound (4 page)

The Master tried to jump back, but his foot caught in the honeysuckle and he fell. The bear was on top of him. The catch dogs were gone, and even at this terrible moment Copper

could not bring himself to close with the bear. Then Chief charged in from behind. Closing his forefeet under him, he slid under the bear and seized the raging animal by the testicles. The

bear's jaws had met in the Master's shoulder, but this pain was too terrible for the animal to take. He whirled around, but Chief still hung on, although he was lifted off his feet. The Master rose on his elbow and fired into the bear's side with his small handgun. The grease-smelling man also fired. The bear went down, blood pouring from his mouth - the thick, rich-smelling arterial blood that means death. The dogs poured over him, even Scrapper and Ranger forgetting their differences as the smell hit them. Straining in different directions, the pack stretched him out between them while the grease-smelling man fired shot after shot into the body.

When it was all over, Copper lay down with a delicious feeling of satisfied exhaustion. It was much the same feeling he had after having well served a bitch. He was drained of strength and strong emotion. A delightful lassitude filled him.

The Master rose and limped toward them, Copper rose to greet him, proudly wagging his tail in conscious self-esteem for having done a good job of trailing. The Master paid no attention to him. He went over to Chief and, taking the Trigg's head between his hands, spoke to him in the love talk that once he had used only to Copper. Watching them with savage jealousy, Copper knew that his day was done and that soon there would be a new leader of the pack.

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The Fox

His first memory was that of hearing an eager scratching at the mouth of the den, followed by excited whines. The fox pup was not frightened; instead he was excited and curious, for the noises were not unlike fox noises and he knew of no reason to fear them. His mother reacted differently. In a moment she was on her feet, hissing and snarling, and although the pup had never heard these sounds before he instantly recognized them as danger signals. Then she gave off the terrible scent of fear, and even though this was a new scent to the pup he knew it meant the family was in dire peril.

His brothers and sisters were whimpering and wetting with terror, but the pup did neither. He kept his wits. He had always looked to his mother for guidance and now he gave a plaintive yip meaning "What do you want us to do?" At once his mother spun around and picked him up by the scruff of his neck. Even in her excitement she was careful not to let her canine teeth close over his slender vertebrae, and pushed her jaws far down until she could lift him with her molars. Then she ran down one of the long passageways of the den. This den was a huge affair that had been used by generations of foxes, and some of the passageways were fifty feet long. There were ten boltholes besides the main entrance, and it was toward one of these boltholes the vixen ran.

She stopped just short of the entrance. The ground trembled with the stamping of men's feet, and their voices came clearly through the hole. There were other dogs, yelping and barking, half mad with excitement. The vixen backed down the burrow and stood for a moment, tormented by indecision. Then she dropped the pup and ran back for another.

The pup lay cowering as he listened to the sounds around him and smelled the new and terrifying odors that gradually seeped along the tunnel. He heard a dog forcing its way into the earth, and then heard it scream. The vixen had grabbed it by the nose and bitten through to the cartilage. He listened to the gurgling noise of combat as the half-strangled dog tried to tear himself free. Above, the men were shouting and stamping on the ground. Somewhere in the earth he heard a rumbling noise that at first he could not identify. Then he realized it was a second dog that had been put down another hole and was racing to his friend's help. He heard it reach the main den and yell with excitement when it saw the vixen. Then the whole earth reverberated with the screams of the vixen and the cries of the terriers.

The rumbling noise began again and went through the entire system of passageways. His mother was running through the earth with the dogs after her, trying to lead them away from the pups. Then came the most awful sounds he had ever heard: the death cries of his brothers and sisters. A third terrier had been sent down the main entrance, and found them.

His mother suddenly appeared beside him and dropped panting. They lay with their noses touching while the roar of the dogs tearing about through the passageways looking for them echoed through the earth. His mother rose and, writhing around in the narrow pipe, began to dig desperately at the roof. The earth fell in showers around her, gradually blocking up the tunnel. She lay down again, panting, and they listened to the whining of the frustrated terriers.

Coming down the burrow, and separated from them only by the thin earth barrier, they heard the footsteps of one of the terriers. The foxes lay motionless, not daring to breathe. They

heard the dog come to the fallen earth and scratch at it. Neither fox moved a muscle. The fallen earth had not only blocked the tunnel; it had also cut off the scent, and the dog abandoned the task, backing slowly out of the passage because he was too big to turn. The foxes resumed breathing.

Above them still came the voices of the men and the drumming of their feet. Now their scent was leaking down to the foxes, and the pup, curious even in this crisis, lifted his head slightly to bring his nose into play. By lying perfectly still the foxes had largely cut off their scent, as the odor was spread by the heat of their bodies when moving; but the vixen's activity in collapsing the roof of the tunnel had filled the narrow pipe with her scent, and that still lingered. With the two animals crowded together in the pipe, the passage grew warm and, as the temperature increased, the scent began to rise out of the bolthole and catch in the tangle of honeysuckle that covered it.

The terriers had come out of the earth now, and the pup could tell by the slower breathing of his mother that she was no longer so frightened as she had been. Also, the fear scent was beginning to fall away. The men had tramped over the entrance of the bolthole several times without noticing it, and they would soon leave.

One of the terriers raced by overhead. As he scrambled over the honeysuckle tangle, the foxes heard him stop suddenly and begin to sniff. Again they stopped breathing.

The terrier was forcing his nose through the vines until his nostrils were in the bolthole itself. He sniffed louder and then broke into an eager yelping. Instantly they heard the other dogs racing to him. The vixen pushed the pup behind her with her nose and crawled up the pipe to meet them.

Now the men were there and the honeysuckle was ripped away, A terrier started down the hole, but he was too big to make it. A man pulled him out by the hind legs, and another, smaller dog was put in. This dog managed to worm his way in to where the pipe was larger. The foxes heard him coming. There was a narrow shelf along the side of the pipe, and the vixen crawled onto it. She let the little dog pass below her and then suddenly seized him across the loins with her long, pointed jaws. She clamped down with all her strength and had the satisfaction of hearing the backbone snap. The dog screamed in agony and lay writhing in the pipe, paralyzed.

Above them came the furious yelling of men and dogs. Now came a thump! thump! thump! The men were digging down to them. At once the vixen slipped off the shelf and, running to the wall of earth that blocked the passage, began digging desperately, but before she could break through another terrier had come down the pipe. He managed to wriggle over his mortally wounded comrade, and the vixen was forced to turn to face him. Wiser than his friend, the terrier made no attempt to attack. Instead he began the chop bark that meant "Here she is! I'm holding her at bay!"

The men recognized the cry and began digging in earnest. There was nothing the vixen could do now. When she tried to break through the wall, the terrier rushed at her, growling and snapping so that she was forced to turn. When she attacked him, he retreated up the pipe, meeting her attacks with open jaws. She could not get past him, and if she had there were the men and the other dogs waiting for her.

The top of the tunnel caved in, splattering dog and foxes with loose dirt. The men had broken through to the pipe. The vixen made one last frantic effort to escape, forgetting in her frenzy even her precious pup. She leaped toward the light and air. Quick as she was, the terrier was also quick. As the fox bounded out, he sprang forward and seized her. Dog and fox came out together.

The pup trembling in the now open pipe heard the horrible sounds of combat above him: the fierce snarls of the terriers just before they took their holds, the hissing screams of his mother as she fought hack, and the yells of the men. Then came the guttural sounds of worrying as the terriers made their kill.

The pup never moved. He knew his best chance of safety was to remain absolutely still. He lay in the pipe, a little ball of woolly fur, with only his eyes - just changing from baby blue to yellow - showing he was alive.

The dogs were still worrying his mother's corpse when one of the men gave a cry and, reaching down into the pipe, picked him up. The pup did not move until the man's hand actually closed over him and he knew concealment was no longer possible. Then he gave a sudden banshee-like screech and buried his little milk teeth in the man's thumb. The man started, and the pup felt himself grabbed by the neck so he could no longer bite. He instantly realized the situation, and promptly relaxed. There was no longer any use in struggling. pie dangled limply, watching his chance to make a bolt for it.

He was put in a bag and carried to a car. Throughout the long drive, the pup lay quietly, his mind almost a complete blank. Luckily for him, he was incapable of speculating about the

future, and so did not suffer the agonies of apprehension that a human would have endured. At last the drive ended, the car stopped, and he heard voices. The bag was lifted, and he was carried away from the car. Then it was opened, and he was gently shaken out on a floor.

The pup lay there looking up at the man bending over him. The man was talking, but the words and even the tone meant nothing to the pup. He was mainly conscious of odor: the terrifying smell of the man, the strange smell of the room, and the smell of a dog. There was a dog in the room not much bigger than himself who came over and sniffed at him. The pup snarled automatically, but he was not really frightened. The dog's tail was wagging; there was no scent of anger; and the dog's actions were sufficiently foxlike for the pup to recognize that the animal meant to be friendly.

The man spoke to the dog, who hastily retreated. Then the man tried to touch him. The pup twisted himself around to meet the extended hand with bared teeth, for the man had brought his hand down from above in an action recognized by both dogs and foxes as an aggressive movement. Another fox, attacking, would have come down from above in just such a movement to get the neck hold. The dog, on the other hand, had come in on the pup's own level. The man withdrew his hand and then extended it again, this time moving it along the floor. The pup still snarled, but after a few seconds allowed the hand to touch his neck.

The man began to rub him under the chin and scratch back of his ears. In spite of his fear, a delicious sense of well-being flooded through the pup. He lay in an almost hypnotic state while the hand massaged him, yet at the same time he was tensed to bound away at any sudden movement.

The pup tamed rapidly. He identified with the little dog far more readily than he did with the man, even though the man fed and cared for him. The fox pup and the dog spoke the same language. The language was not vocal, but was made up of signs and gestures, and to a certain degree of scent. The dog smelled more like a fox than did the human, and, more important, he behaved like a fox. When the dog first attempted to play, the pup was suspicious of his intentions. He instinctively swung sideways to the dog, feinting with his brush as a shield and striking at the dog with his flank to bowl him over. When he realized the dog was only playing, he abandoned these tactics. The play resembled fighting as the two animals rolled on the floor together, biting at each other and trying to get the other down, but the tactics the fox used were those he would have used in killing game - the loin grip and the neck hold. Both of these holds are effective in killing a rabbit or woodchuck, but in a fox fight the two opponents are so nearly the same size that it would be impossible for one to get either of these grips on the other except under extraordinary conditions. In using them on the dog, then, the fox was merely playing that the dog was quarry rather than an enemy.