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 love of wild life. So the fox family goes unharmed, notwithstanding these invasions.

If Mr. Jennings, the fox breeder, could only have seen this little family he would have gone wild at the sight, for it was just such a blend of the blue and red foxes as he had dreamed of for years. Two of the pups still clung to the type. One was a perfect picture of Redcoat, and the other of Blue Lady. But the four remaining pups were half and half, with the beautiful head of Redcoat and the luxuriant coat of Blue Lady. The blue jay could have told you where the den was located, for he had seen the fox family the first day the pups came forth. The whitethroat, which now sang in the poplars above them, could have told you much of their ways, for he saw them come each day to this grass plot to romp. A certain pool in the trout stream nearby could have told you just how the little foxes looked when they came each day to drink of the cool water. But the Blue Jay, the whitethroat, and the Brook all keep their counsel. So there upon the grass plot, let us leave