Free The Fox and the Hound by Daniel P. Mannix Page A

himself as well as the scent from his tracks.
    The fox was not bothering to exert himself; he was running easily only a few hundred yards ahead. Copper could tell, for when the quarry puts forth its full efforts the scent is much stronger and more distinctive as the energy forces more odor from the scent glands. The knowledge outraged the hound, and as the scent was screaming hot, he charged on ahead recklessly. In spite of his heavy build, the half-bloodhound was capable of putting on a surprising burst of speed for short distances, and Copper noted with satisfaction that the scent grew gratifyingly stronger and that there was even a wonderful trace of the fear odor mixed with it. That exciting odor caused him to redouble his efforts.
    They were approaching the first crossing now, a windbreak of evergreens that ran beside a road. The route led along the trees and then made a sharp turn to the right across the road and through some locusts to an open field. The Master would be behind the evergreens, waiting. Copper's baying took on a triumphal note as he anticipated the boom of the shotgun.
    Then he heard a sound that filled him with shame and foreboding - it was the noise of the Master's car coming up the road. At once Copper slowed down. In his excitement he had committed the unforgivable crime, unworthy of even an inexperienced puppy, of pressing the fox too hard and not giving the gunner a chance to get to his stand. One of those stupid Walkers or Triggs might make such a mistake, but that he, Copper, would so forget himself was inexcusable. Remorsefully, he fell into a trot and almost stopped baying in hopes the fox would slow his pace, but he knew it was too late. The sound of the car was too far away and the fox was still running strong; he could tell by the hot scent. There was nothing for it now except push on. Copper ran the line of evergreens, crossed the road, and followed the line through the locusts. Then, safe from possible punishment by the Master, he resumed his baying.
    Beyond the locusts, the fox had left his usual run to cut across the open field. Copper was so surprised that he checked carefully, suspecting some trick, but the trail was plain and distinct. The rising sun was warming the ground, making little currents of air that swirled the scent around the tufts of grass, and Copper followed the line from tuft to tuft to save time. The fox had run a zigzag course across the field as though looking for something, and Copper took advantage of this to cut straight across, following the fox's general drift rather than trying to unravel each of the loops. The field was heavy with the foil of cattle, but none were to be seen. At this hour they were all in the barn being milked, and Copper could hear their lowing and smell their sweet breath and the hot, fresh scent of the milk. At one place the fox had stopped to roll in some half-dry manure before going on. The manure neutralized his body odor and would have caused Copper real trouble if he had been forced to take the trail from leaves or tall grass that had rubbed against the animal's body, as was often the case in cover or in overgrown fields. Here in the short-clipped pasture, he could smell the scent from the pads where they prssed the grass, so the manure hardly bothered him at all.
            The fox left the field and cut across country, completely ignoring his regular run. By doing so, he missed the next crossing where, Copper knew, the Master would probably have gone. There was nothing to do but continue on the trail, baying as loudly as possible so the master could tell what happened. The fox was now running in an almost perfectly straight line, clearly headed for some definite objective, and Copper apprehensively increased his pace. The fox might be planning to go down a hole. Copper knew from the fox's smell that he was a young animal, hardly more than a pup, and pups were more apt to go down holes than older foxes.
    The trail led into