The Book of Joyous Children | Page 8

and we,
Keen on the trail, were soon far in the woods.

Our old dog, "Ring," ran nosing the fresh track
With whimpering
delight, far on ahead.
After following the trail more than a mile
To
northward, through the thickest winter woods
We boys had ever
seen,--all suddenly
He seemed to strike another trail; and then
Our
joyful attention was drawn to
Old "Ring"--leaping to this side, then to
that,
Of a big, hollow, old oak-tree, which had

Been blown down by
a storm some years before.
There--all at once--out leapt a lean old fox

From the black hollow of a big bent limb,--
Hey! how he
scudded!--but with our old "Ring"
Sharp after him--and father after
"Ring"--
We after father, near as we could hold!
And father noticed
that the fox kept just
About four feet ahead of "Ring"--just that--

No farther, and no nearer! Then he said:--
"There are young foxes in

that tree back there,

[Illustration: "A BIG, HOLLOW, OLD OAK-TREE, WHICH HAD
BEEN BLOWN DOWN BY A STORM."]

And the mother-fox is drawing 'Ring' and us
Away from their nest
there!" "Oh, le' 's go back!--
Do le' 's go back!" we little vandals
cried,--
"Le' 's go back, quick, and find the little things--
Please,
father!--Yes, and take 'em home for pets--
'Cause 'Ring' he'll kill the
old fox anyway!"
So father turned at last, and back we went,
And
father chopped a hole in the old tree
About ten feet below the limb
from which
The old fox ran, and--Bless their little lives!--
There, in
the hollow of the old tree-trunk--
There, on a bed of warm dry leaves
and moss--
There, snug as any bug in any rug--
We
found--one--two--three--four, and, yes-sir, five
Wee, weenty-teenty
baby-foxes, with
Their eyes just barely opened--Cute?--my-oh!--

The cutest--the most cunning little things
Two boys ever saw, in all
their lives!
"Raw weather for the little fellows now!"
Said father, as
though talking to himself,--
"Raw weather, and no home now!"--And
off came
His warm old "waumus"; and in that he wrapped
The
helpless little animals, and held
Them soft and warm against him as
he could,--
And home we happy children followed him.--
Old
"Ring" did not reach home till nearly dusk:
The mother-fox had led
him a long chase--
"Yes, and a fool's chase, too!" he seemed to say,
And looked ashamed
to hear us praising him.
But, mother_--well, we _could not
understand
Her_ acting as she did--and we so _pleased
!
I can see
yet the look of pained surprise
And deep compassion of her troubled
face
When father very gently laid his coat,
With the young foxes in
it, on the hearth
Beside her, as she brightened up the fire.
She

urged--for the old fox's sake and theirs--
That they be taken back to
the old tree;
But father--for our wistful sakes, no doubt--
Said we
would keep them, and would try our best
To raise them. And at once
he set about
Building a snug home for the little things
Out of an old
big bushel-basket, with
Its fractured handle and its stoven ribs:
So,
lining and padding this all cosily,
He snuggled in its little tenants, and

Called in John Wesley Thomas, our hired man,
And gave him in
full charge, with much advice
Regarding the just care and sustenance
of
Young_ foxes.--"John," he said, "you feed 'em _milk--
Warm_
milk, John Wesley! Yes, and _keep 'em by
The stove_--and keep your
stove _a-roarin', too,
Both night and day!--And keep 'em covered
up--
Not smothered, John, but snug and comfortable.--

[Illustration: "THE YOUNG FOXES IN IT, ON THE HEARTH
BESIDE HER."]

And now, John Wesley Thomas, first and last,--
You feed 'em
milk_--_fresh_ milk--and always _warm--
Say five or six or seven
times a day--
Of course we'll grade that by the way they thrive."

But, for all sanguine hope, and care, as well,
The little fellows did not
thrive at all.--
Indeed, with all our care and vigilance,
By the third
day of their captivity
The last survivor of the fated five
Squeaked,
like some battered little rubber toy
Just clean worn out.--And that's
just what it was!
And--nights,--the cry of the mother-fox for her young
Was heard,
with awe, for long weeks afterward.
And we boys, every night, would
go to the door

And, peering out in the darkness, listening,
Could
hear the poor fox in the black bleak woods
Still calling for her little
ones in vain.
As, all mutely, we returned to the warm fireside,

Mother would say: "How would you like for me
To be out there, this

dark night, in the cold woods,
Calling for my children?"
[Illustration]

II
UNCLE BRIGHTENS UP--
[Illustration]
Uncle he says 'at 'way down in the sea
Ever'thing's ist like it used to
be:--
He says they's mermaids, an' mermens, too,
An' little
merchildern, like me an' you--
Little merboys, with tops an' balls,

An' little mergirls, with little merdolls.
[Illustration]
Uncle Sidney's vurry proud
Of little Leslie-Janey,
'Cause she's so
smart, an' goes to school
Clean 'way in Pennsylvany!

[Illustration: "AN' ALL BE POETS AN' ALL RECITE."]

She print' an' sent a postul-card
To Uncle Sidney, telling
How glad
he'll be to hear that she
"Toock the onners in Speling."
Uncle he learns us to rhyme an' write
An' all be poets an' all recite:

His little-est poet's his little-est niece,
An'