having assured himself that the hounds had gone home, he jumped up
and trotted back to the woods again.

A flock of sheep are not always frightened at a fox. The other day an
old dog fox, the hero of many a good run in recent years from these
coverts (an "old customer," in fact), was observed by the keeper and two
other men trying to cross the river by means of a footbridge. A flock of
sheep, doubtless taking him for a dog, were frustrating his endeavours
to get across; directly he set foot on dry land they would bowl him over
on to his back in the most unceremonious way. This game of romps went on
for about ten minutes. Finally the fox, getting tired of trying to pass
the sheep, trotted back over the footbridge. Fifty yards up stream a
narrow fir pole is set across the water. The cunning old rascal made for
this, and attempted to get to the other side; but the fates were against
him. There was a strong wind blowing at the time, so that when he was
half way across the pool, he was actually blown off sideways into the
water. And a rare ducking he got! He gave the job up after this, and
trotted back into the wood. This is a very curious occurrence, because
the fox was perfectly healthy and strong. He is well known throughout
the country, not only for his tremendous cheek, but also for the
wonderful runs he has given from time to time. He will climb over a
six-foot wire fence to gain entrance to a fowl-run belonging to an
excellent sportsman, who, though not a hunting man, would never allow a
fox to be killed. He is reported to have had fifty, fowls out of this
place during the last few months. When caught in the act in broad
daylight, the fox had to be hunted round and round the enclosure before
he would leave, finally climbing up the wire fencing like a cat, instead
of departing by the open door.

It is very rare that a mischievous fox, given to the destruction of
poultry, is also a straight-necked one. Too often these gentry know no
extent of country; they take refuge in the nearest farmyard when pressed
by the hounds. At the end of a run we have seen them on the roof of
houses and outbuildings time after time. On one occasion last season a
hunted fox was discovered among the rafters in the roof of a very high
barn. The "whipper-in" was sent up by means of a long ladder, eventually
pulling him out of his hiding-place by his brush. Poor brute! perhaps he
might have been spared after showing such marvellous strategy.

I