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 The next time that Redcoat fell into the power of Bud Holcome it was not his fault, but just one of those fatuitous happenings which sometimes befall the wild creatures. Neither his eyesight, his hearing, nor his scent had been at fault. Who could have known that this thing which was not really a trap could turn out to be a most diabolical trap, worse than any steel trap. Surely a poor fox could not be expected to understand the laws of physics, and nothing short of an understanding of physics could have saved Redcoat that time.

He had often run upon the rails of the trail which the great thunderer followed. These same rails had often befriended him, for they had allowed him to run for hundreds of rods leaving little scent, so that he might baffle the pack. The rails had never caught his feet. Only once had the thunderer's trail proved disastrous to him and that was when he had been caught in the deep cut. But this place where he was caught upon the occasion in question was on the