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 train coming. He must shoot the fox quickly and then get him off the track before the train tore the beautiful skin to ribbons. But, as he raised the rifle and took aim, Redcoat looked him full in the face. It seemed to Bud that the eyes of the fox and his own eyes met, and there was something so unspeakably pathetic and imploring in the cry for mercy which came from the two wide wild eyes. It was as though Redcoat had been praying to the god of the wild creatures to save him. But it was the warm kindly heart of Bud Holcome which heard, for he lowered the rifle quickly. Again the thunderer shrieked and this time it was only half a mile away. Whatever Bud did, must be done like lightning. Then in a flash the boy remembered his luncheon, for he was going to fish through the ice for pickerel and had taken his dinner. There was the thermos bottle of hot coffee with his lunch. Bud raced back to the automobile as he had never raced before. The lunch box troubled him for a moment, but he tore it frantically open and raced back with the