the finding of that hole was
easy enough.

"You old fox," declared Wade, very much pleased, as he patted the dog.
"You found it for me, didn't you? Good dog! Now I'll fix that hole, an'
then you can come to the cabin with me. An' your name's Fox."

That was how Fox introduced himself to Wade, and found his opportunity.
The fact that he was not a hound had operated against his being taken
out hunting, and therefore little or no attention had been paid him.
Very shortly Fox showed himself to be a dog of superior intelligence.
The hunter had lived much with dogs and had come to learn that the
longer he lived with them the more there was to marvel at and love.

Fox insisted so strongly on being taken out to hunt with the hounds that
Wade, vowing not to be surprised at anything, let him go. It happened to
be a particularly hard day on hounds because of old tracks and
cross-tracks and difficult ground. Fox worked out a labyrinthine trail
that Sampson gave up and Jim failed on. This delighted Wade, and that
night he tried to find out from Andrews, who sold the dog to Belllounds,
something about Fox. All the information obtainable was that Andrews
suspected the fellow from whom he had gotten Fox had stolen him.
Belllounds had never noticed him at all. Wade kept the possibilities of
Fox to himself and reserved his judgment, and every day gave the dog
another chance to show what he knew.

[Illustration: "I'm beginnin' to feel that I couldn't let her marry that
Buster Jack," soliloquized Wade, as he rode along the grassy trail.]

Long before the end of that week Wade loved Fox and decided that he was
a wonderful animal. Fox liked to hunt, but it did not matter what he
hunted. That depended upon the pleasure of his master. He would find
hobbled horses that were hiding out and standing still to escape
detection. He would trail cattle. He would tree squirrels and point
grouse. Invariably he suited his mood to the kind of game he hunted. If
put on an elk track, or that of deer, he would follow it, keeping well
within sight of the hunter, and never uttering a single bark or yelp;
and without any particular eagerness he would stick until he had found
the game or until he was called off. Bear and cat tracks, however,
roused the savage instinct in him, and transformed him. He yelped at
every jump on a trail, and whenever his yelp became piercing and
continuous Wade well knew the quarry was in sight. He fought bear like a
wise old do