No two foxes, nor mice, nor men, nor
any other two animals for that matter, ever leave the same scent,--any
old hound, which will hold steadily to one fox though a dozen others
cross or cover his trail, will show you that plainly in a day's
hunting,--and the wolf would soon know surely that the same fox was
poaching every night on his own preserves while he was away. To a
casual, wandering hunter he paid no attention; but this cunning poacher
must be laid by the heels, else there would not be a single rabbit left
in the cover. So Wayeeses, instead of hunting himself at twilight when
the rabbits are stirring, would wait till midday, when the sun is warm
and foxes are sleepy, and then come back to find the poacher's trail and
follow it to where Eleemos was resting for the day in a sunny opening in
the scrub. There Wayeeses would steal upon him from behind and put an
end to his poaching; or else, if the fox used the same nest daily, as is
often the case when he is not disturbed, the wolf would circle the scrub
warily to find the path by which Eleemos usually came out on his night's
hunting.
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