Free The Fox and the Hound by Daniel P. Mannix

the man took up his position in a sassafras thicket. He was well placed, at least fifty feet from the crossing where the fox could be expected to run. Copper had seen men so stupid they had taken up a stand at the crossing itself, where, of course, the fox winded them as he came in. Copper checked the breeze to make sure the man was also downwind of the crossing. Everything was all right, and Copper settled down with a contented sigh.
    After a few miles they stopped again, and this time Copper did not bother to move. He knew they were dropping off the second hunter, and Copper watched him go down toward the log over the stream. This was another crossing that he and the Master had carefully worked out. Then the car went on with only him and the Master left, so Copper knew well their destination.
    They stopped near the railroad tracks and Copper jumped out as soon as the door was open. The Master followed. Copper ate some grass to make himself vomit so he would be lighter for the long run ahead, Then he hit the well-padded trail through the juniper, checked the culvert briefly, and crossed the road, where he stopped to sniff. The wind was against him but Copper did not worry. The fox would surely be lying up on the hill ahead as he had that morning a week ago. Copper knew foxes.
    They started up the hill, Copper running ahead. The Master spoke to him and he slowed his gait. Up and up they went, Copper constantly testing the breeze, but it was blowing from behind them and told him nothing. They were close to the crest now, so surely something had to happen soon.
    The Master gave a sudden yell. Copper could see nothing, but he knew the fox was running, and dashed forward. Casting about frantically, he found the fallen pine and the heavy smell of fox hit him full in the face. Copper screamed with excitement, but the scent was so strong he could not at once pick up the light trail made by the fleeing animal.
    "Here, boy, here!" shouted the Master. Copper was so excited he did not respond until the second call. By then he realized that he could not hit the trail right off, so he ran to the Master, who was pointing downward. Coming in at an angle, Copper crossed the fox's line higher up and instantly stopped as though he had run into a brick walk He ran up and down briefly to make sure of the direction the fox was going - the forward trail smelled slightly different from the heel because of the position of the scent glands in the fox's pads - and then tore downhill, baying at the top of his great voice.
    The scent was breast-high, so there was no need to drop his head, and he saw the fox cross the road ahead of him, a brief flicker of dark gray. On the road he lost the scent momentarily - it was covered with dry dust that got in his nose - but Copper made no attempt to follow it here. Knowing the fox had crossed straight over, he rushed on, holding his head up to avoid fouling his valuable nose with the dust. On the other side were grass and weeds, so here the scent held and Copper resumed his baying. As he ran, he heard the sound of the Master's car starting up and then pulling away with a rapid acceleration from one gear to another. Copper was delighted at the sound, for he knew from many past experiences that the Master, now he saw how the fox was running, would speed to the next crossing and wait for the fox there.
    The fox was now on his regular route and, barring unforeseeable accidents, would stick to it, as he knew the path so perfectly he could make better speed along it than across country. Copper knew it too and pressed hard. The fox could of course run his route either way; but as Copper expected, he ran it upwind so he could smell anything ahead of him. Copper understood this principle perfectly, for he disliked running downwind himself - it was like running blind not to know what was ahead of you. There was a north wind blowing and it was so strong, damp, and cold that occasionally Copper got whiffs of scent from the fox