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 cated and finally burst into a loud gaffaw. "Fox nothing," he snorted. "It's just your imagination, Bud."

It was not until they found the tracks outside the window, and blood and some feathers on the snow, that Mr. Holcome admitted there might have been a fox in the henhouse after all.

Half an hour later, Redcoat proudly laid down his kill at the mouth of the burrow and with a sharp joyous bark summoned his mate. Fluffy came forth in much excitement to see what he had brought her. Then Redcoat laid down upon his belly in the snow his jaws dripping saliva, for hunger gnawed at his own vitals, and watched his mate devour the better part of the pullet.

When she was fully satisfied, she backed away, and with a fox smile and a wag of her tail, invited the hunter to dine. There was only the head and neck, the feet and the offal, left, and this Redcoat speedily devoured. And, then he went away to the old burrow to sleep, while Fluffy returned to the pups in the new burrow. Redcoat's