In the course of discussion relative to the events of our stolen run, and during which the remainder of our companions formed a willing auditory, I asked Trimbush how he discovered the difference between the scent of a dog fox and that of a vixen. “In the first place,” responded he, “it is never so strong; and when she has either laid down her cubs, is about to do so, or has not left off suckling, there is a peculiar odour with her which cannot be mistaken. Now, most animals,” continued he, “as I observed yesterday, have an aversion to kill those in any of the situations just described; but I should have added, _when the purpose is to eat them_. For instance, a stoat will not touch a rabbit when about to litter; but a terrier would kill her in a moment. This is the reason that so few birds are killed whose nests are on the ground. The weazel avoids the partridge and lark whilst setting, and the fox passes the pheasant.” “What!” exclaimed I. “Won’t a fox snap a pheasant from her nest?” “Gamekeepers,” resumed Trimbush, “would tell you, ‘Always when an opportunity presents itself;’ but I know better. A vixen, with a large litter, and food scanty, will do so now and then, I don’t deny; but what does she get? Skin, bone, and feathers--a most unsavoury morsel, for which the cubs will scarcely care to fight. The mother knows this well enough, and, unless driven to extremities, never takes any kind of bird from her nest.” “The farmer’s wife tells a different story,” I observed. “The farmer’s wife, like the gamekeeper, is a sworn enemy to foxes,” returned Trimbush, “and with equally groundless cause. If a single head of poultry is missed, the robbery is always ascribed to a fox, and, however devoid of foundation, never forgotten. The old trot dates her subsequent life from the event, and begins her tale with, ‘About six months after the fox took my duck,’ and so keeps the matter fresh and vivid to the end of her days.” “One would think you were a preserver instead of a killer of foxes,” said I. “Ay,” rejoined the speaker; “if it was not for preserving, we should have no opportunities of killing.” CHAPTER III. “We will, fair queen, up to the mountain’s top, And mark the musical confusion Of hounds, and echo in conjunction.”