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 from his enemy, the man, as often as the chance permitted. From what his father had taught him and what he had observed, he was now convinced that war between the foxes and the men was on. In fact, it had always been on. He would do what he could to make them pay for what the fox family suffered at their hands. Their chicken coops, their duck houses, and even their turkey roosts would pay tribute to the fox family. It was a dangerous game, but all life was dangerous. Yet, it was an exciting game. One that was well worth playing.

Thus the weeks went by and Redcoat lived the life, and fought the battles, of a fox. He hunted mice upon the great meadows on his own side of the river, but he never ventured across the river by the broad plank trail which the men used. Later on, when he was more experienced in the ways of men, he would take the chance, but not now.

He hunted quail on the upland farms a mile or two from his mountain. He found these birds in the cornfields, or in the stubble. He hunted rabbits in the rabbit war-