, resting on his haunches, sniffed the air and
listened intently for any sign to indicate the presence of a feeding
coney; but even the strongest taint was "stale," and no sound could be
detected that might betray the whereabouts of any creature feeding in
the grass. Disappointed, the fox turned towards the uplands and crossed
the hedgerow into the nearest stubble. Louping leisurely along, he
surprised and killed a sleeping lark. Further on he crossed the scent
of a hare, but Puss was doubtless some distance away, feeding in a quiet
corner of the root-crop field. Reynard now instinctively made for the
farmyard among the pines, trusting meanwhile that luck would befriend
him. Across the gap, by the side of the hedgerow, and through an open
gateway, he went, seeking spoil everywhere, but finding none. With all
his senses alert, he climbed the low wall around the yard, peeped into
the empty cart-house, and stealthily approached an open shed. There,
unluckily, the dogs were sleeping on a load of hay in the furthest
corner. Careful not to arouse his foes, the fox retreated, and, passing
the pond at the bottom of the yard, moved silently towards another shed,
in which, as he knew from a former visit, the poultry roosted. Though
the door was shut, an opening for the use of the fowls seemed to afford
the possibility of success. With difficulty Reynard managed to squeeze
himself in, only, however, to no purpose. Just beyond the door lay a
loose coil of wire, brought home by the labourers after fencing and
thrown here out of the way. The fox, fearing a trap, reluctantly
abandoned his project, returned to the bank by the pond, and crept down
the lane to a spot where the ducks were housed in a neat shelter built
in the wall. But here he found everything securely fastened. At this
moment a door of the farmstead creaked loudly, the light of a lantern
flooded the yard, and the baffled marauder sprang over the wall and
trotted across the field towards the wood.
His pace soon slackened when he found himself free from pursuit; and
before he reached the end of the meadow he had regained all his cool
audacity and was busily planning a visit to the cottage at the foot of
the dingle. Hardly had his thoughts turned once more to hunting when
fortune favoured him. A hen from the farmyard had laid her eggs in the
hedgerow bordering the wood, and was brooding over them in proud
anticipation of one day leading home a healthy family, thus causing a
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