in, save for the trap as
empty-handed as he had left it.

For a time the big fox was lame, but nature soon healed the wound and he
was able once more to roam the forest as free as the air itself. He had
learned a lesson, however, and no trap could be so cleverly placed as to
lead him into its cruel jaws. He paid no more visits to the farm in the
clearing, but kept almost entirely to his own domain.

Late in the summer came a wet period when for days dark clouds hung over
the wilderness and the rain fell steadily. When the sun did appear,
scattering the clouds, the woods were soaked and dripping, and showers
still fell from the heavy branches.

It was on such a day that a hunter with a pack of trained fox hounds
entered the forest a mile to the west of Silver Spot's den. It was not
long before the dogs had found the trail of the big fox and the chase
was on, a chase destined to try the cunning and strength of the hunted
to the breaking point.

At first the fox felt no anxiety. He thoroughly enjoyed mystifying a
pursuer. Ordinarily in a straight-away run he could outdistance the
fleetest foxhound. Now, however, even Nature seemed to conspire against
him. He was soon drenched with spray. The water clung to his long fur,
and his brush, usually carried blithely aloft, drooped heavily. In spite
of all his tricks, circling and doubling, leaping from fallen trees and
taking to the water, the hounds clung to his trail like bees to honey.
Their deep baying sent the chill of fear to the staunch heart of Silver
Spot. Realizing that here was no play such as he had indulged in with
Pal, the Hermit's dog, he bent all his energies toward outstripping his
pursuers.

For a time he kept well ahead of the dogs, but at length, as his old
wound made itself felt, the pace began to tell upon him. His tail
drooped lower until it all but swept the ground, while with it the
courage of the fox seemed to fail. His breathing became labored. His
foot-pads were cut by thorns and sharp sticks, leaving now and then a
trace of blood upon the moss. He thought with longing of the home den
which he was widely circling, but to which he dared not turn. With the
pack in full cry, the hunted beast broke from cover at the edge of the
wilderness where stood the cabin of the Hermit.

At once Silver Spot realized his mistake. Here in the open there was no
means of avoiding the dogs, nor could he return to the woods. Even as he
paused in despair, the leader o