him. There was an animal of some kind over there, but what he could
not tell at that distance. But one thing was certain, it was no rabbit,
for it was dark in color, and it was too big. He could catch but
tantalizing glimpses of it in the young growth along the edge of the
pond, and presently it disappeared altogether behind a tangle of fallen
brush. Unconsciously he held his breath as he waited for it to reappear.
Slowly the minutes slipped away. He began to think that his eyes must
have been playing him tricks. He was once more becoming conscious of the
cold and had almost decided to cross over and investigate the brush pile
into which he thought the animal had vanished when a black form leaped
lightly out on the farther end of the dam and paused with one fore foot
uplifted and head thrown up to test the wind.

Sparrer needed but one look at the great plume of a tail to know that it
was a fox, but such a fox as he had never dreamed existed. It was bigger
than any fox he had ever seen, the great size being apparent even at
that distance. And instead of the red coat of the foxes with which the
boy was familiar at the Bronx Zoo this fellow was robed in the blackness
of night, and this was intensified by contrast with the pure white of
his surroundings.

"It's him, de silver fox!" gasped Sparrer under his breath, and with the
realization that here before his very eyes was the king of the North
American fur bearers, whose skin was worth a fabulous sum, according to
what he had heard, he began to shake as with the ague. What if he could
get him? A cold sweat broke out at the mere thought. There on the dam
was what to him was nothing less than a fortune, and here was he shaking
like an aspen leaf in the wind. The distance was too great for a shot at
present, but perhaps the fox would come nearer, and then a true eye and
steady nerves for just a matter of a few seconds and the prize might be
his.

With a quick intake of breath he tried to get a grip on himself. He
thought of the battles he had fought with bullies older and bigger than
himself, and had won because he had kept his head in the heat of contest
and had coolly taken advantage of every opening. But that was different.
Then he was in action and it was easier to keep cool. Then, too, if he
missed one blow there was a chance for another. It was this sitting
still with the knowledge that there would be but one chance, and that
this must be taken at just the right mom