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 red, with yellows and saffrons,—browns and russets.

Finally, all the campfires of Autumn were kindled, and they burned high upon every hillside, in wonderful barbaric beauty.

Then it was, when the skins of the foxes were prime, that the war between men, boys, guns, traps and poison, and the wits, and the fleet legs of the foxes was on. A war which did not show mercy, or give quarter.

The twenty-five dollars which an ordinary red fox's pelt brought looked very large to the average country boy, and he was out to get it. Mr. Fox also prized his brush and he was out to keep it. So, many were the battles of skill, cunning, endurance, and strategy which the foxes and the men waged.

About the middle of October a mishap befell the fox family which was much more serious than it first seemed, for it made the entire family more vulnerable to the enemy. It happened in this way. It was just one of those accidents in the out-of-doors to which any wild animal is liable. No matter