ttle fellers
you ever saw. I fed 'em an' after a while they was so tame I could
handle 'em. I never could handle the old ones, but they got so tame
they'd take fish out of my hand.

"All this time I used to go to the hole every day, an' two or three
times a day, an' lay with my face in it, so my eyes would get the light.
I was afraid I'd go blind bein' all the time in the dark. An' between
times I'd carry loose rock an' pile it under that window. I spent years
of work on pilin' them rocks, an' then I used up all the rocks an' had
to quit.

"When the little foxes got about a quarter grow'd I took 'em one at a
time, an' shoved 'em out the hole, so their eyes wouldn't go bad. After
a while I could let 'em all out together, an' they would always come
back. I was careful to keep 'em well fed. But I didn't dare let the old
ones go, I was afraid they'd never come back an' would drag off the
little ones, too. It wasn't so long before them six little fellows could
beat me scoopin' out fish. Well, one day the big ones got out, an' the
little ones followed. They'd clawed the rock away where I hadn't jammed
it in tight. I never felt so bad in my life. I sat there in the dark and
bawled like a baby. It was like losin' yer family all to once. They was
all I had. I never expected to see 'em again. They stayed out all night,
but in the mornin' back they all come--big ones an' all! After that I
left the hole open, an' they come an' went as they pleased. Well, they
had more little ones, an' the little ones had little ones, until they
was forty or fifty black fox lived with me in the cave--an' I had 'em
all named. They used to fetch in ptarmigan an' rabbits an' I'd take 'em
away an' eat 'em. Then one or two begun to turn up missin' an' I figured
they'd be'n trapped. That give me an idea. If I could tie a message onto
'em, maybe sometime someone would trap one and find out where I was. But
I didn't have no pencil nor nothin' to write on. So I begun tearin'
strips from my coat an' pants an' tied 'em around their necks, but the
goods was gettin' rottin, an' bushes clawed it off, or maybe the foxes
did. I used up my coat, an' most of my pants, an' then I used ermine
skins. I figured that if any one trapped a black fox wearin' an ermine
skin collar it would call for an investigation. If it was a white
trapper he would tumble right away that something was wrong, an' if it
was an Injun he would brag about it when he traded the fur, an' then
th