the mouth of the tunnel in the
shadow of an arching spray of polypody and, for sheer lack of something
better to do, half lifted himself on his hind-legs to rub his lips
against the edge of a fern, or to peep, with a feeling that his
whereabouts were a secret, between the drooping fronds. His mother
restrained his rashness; once, when he actually thrust his head beyond
the ferns, she with a stern admonition warned him of his mistake; and
he promptly withdrew to her side, frightened at his own boldness, but
grunting in well assumed defiance of the imagined danger from which he
had fled.

This, in fact, was the first lesson learned--that a certain sign from
the vixen meant "No," and that disobedience was afterwards punishable
according to the unwritten laws of woodland life. Another sign that he
learned to obey meant "Come." It was a low, deep note, gentle and
persuasive; and directly Vulp heard it he would hasten to his mother to
be not only fed but also cleansed from every particle of dirt. Such
toilet operations were not always welcome to the youngsters, and were
sometimes vigorously resented. But the vixen had a convincing method of
dealing with any refractory member of her family; she would hold the cub
firmly between her fore-feet while she continued her treatment, or
administered slight, well-judged chastisement by nipping her wayward
offspring in some tender spot, where, however, little harm could be the
result.

The cubs were ten days old when they opened their eyes, but more than
three weeks passed before they were allowed beyond the threshold of
their home. Then, one starlight night, their mother, having returned
from hunting, awoke them, and, withholding their usual nourishment, gave
the signal "Come." The obedient little family followed her along the
dark passage, and ventured, close at her heels, into the grass-patch in
the middle of the briar-brake. Vulp was slightly more timid than his
sisters were; even at that early age he showed signs of independence and
distrust. While the other cubs played "follow-my-leader" with the dam,
he hung back, hesitating and afraid. Even an unusual show of affection
by his mother failed to reassure him. A rabbit dodged quickly across a
path, and immediately he stood rigid with fright. Hardly had he
recovered before an owl flew slowly overhead. Enough! He paused,
motionless, till the awful presence had disappeared; then darted, with
astonishing speed, straight towards the "e