acy was still strong with him. He worked
industriously, and before long dug out an entrance under the building.
Then, before the plump hen which he had selected could wake and cry out,
Silver Spot had killed her and was out and away. He traveled swiftly
and, safe in his own den, enjoyed the feast.

Having acquired a taste for plump chicken, Silver Spot decided to
revisit the henhouse the following evening. This time, however, his
intentions were thwarted in a way which almost put an end to his career.
Eyes other than those of the Hermit had been watching the growth of
Silver Spot, eyes burning with greed when they looked upon his handsome
coat. Fur such as this sold for much money in the city and the desire
for money left no room for pity or admiration for the animal in the mind
of the half-breed, Sam. He had bided his time, but now, though it was
not the best time for furs, he dared wait no longer. Very soon he was to
guide a party of hunters and fishermen far into the north, and he must
take the fox now or never.

Most cunningly he had baited and concealed his trap, which had been
purged by fire of all human touch. Then he had scented the ground all
about with the carcass of a freshly killed chicken. Thus Silver Spot,
the memory of his feast still upon him, caught the alluring scent.
Swerving from his path, he was suddenly caught in the steel jaws which
closed with an ugly click. The big fox was a prisoner, the victim of a
trapper's greed.

He tore savagely at the thing which held him, straining every effort to
gain his freedom, but without avail. The trap seemed only to close more
tightly, cutting through fur and sinew, staining the ground red. At
length, exhausted, he sank down in the leaves only to rise again and
again to renew the struggle.

The hours dragged on. He was hungry and unbearably thirsty, with water
only a few yards out of reach. His brave heart almost failed him, but
as the darkness began to pale and the wilderness to waken, desperation
gave him fresh courage. He set his sharp teeth upon the imprisoned foot
and at last was free once more, two toes missing. He took a long drink
from the stream before limping off to his den where morning found him
licking his wound, thus cleansing it of all impurities and assuring a
swift recovery.

A few hours later the half-breed visited his trap where his keen eyes
read correctly the evidences of the night's struggle. Sorely
disappointed, he returned to his cab