After the coming of the grey terror you may imagine how careful we were. We took no more risks of any kind, and when we went out for food invariably took the precaution first to post a sentinel in the nearest tall tree to give good notice of danger. The cat came no more, but all the same, this precaution in all probability saved the lives of Rusty and myself. The snow had lasted a long time, but as the weather was sunny and bright we were out most days. One morning, as my brother and I were hunting out some nuts in the centre of a thick part of the hedge, we heard Cob’s cry of warning from an oak near by. Neither of us had any idea from which direction the danger was approaching, but we both were at the top of the hedge in the twinkling of an eye. Only just in time, for almost as we left the ground a gaunt red beast bounded on to the very spot which we had left. He was so close that I distinctly heard his sharp teeth click together like the snapping of a steel trap. He looked up with a hungry gleam in his eyes, but quickly recognizing that he had missed his meal, Master Reynard wasted no time in vain regrets, and trotting sharply off down along the hedge, soon disappeared in the distance. A fox is not particular in snowy weather. All is nuts that comes to his hungry maw. Yet we were fated to hear once more of our deadliest foe. The snow had gone; cold rain and heavy gales succeeded it, and then one day dawned so mild and soft and sunshiny that even mother and Hazel woke. ‘Come, children,’ said mother; ‘we will go and get some breakfast. Open the door, Scud.’ I was in the very act of doing so, when the heavy report of a gun at some distance made us all jump back. A minute later there was a rattle of heavy claws up the trunk of our beech-tree. The sound was unmistakable. ‘The cat!’ I muttered; and we all sank back shivering with fright. Right past our closed door came the sound, and up into the boughs above. We could only crouch as still as four mice. If the grey terror found the nest—and her keen nose would tell her that quickly enough—we were absolutely at her mercy. ‘Shall we make a bolt for it?’ muttered Rusty in my ear. ‘What’s the good? She’s above us. She’d be certain to get one of us before we could clear,’ I answered. All was quiet again, but our suspense was almost unendurable. Ha! what was that? I could distinctly hear heavy footsteps on the ground below. They seemed to be circling round the base of the tree. Then they stopped, and absolute silence reigned. Crash! A tremendously heavy report, followed by an unearthly scream. Bump, bump! Something was falling from bough to bough above; then a heavy thud. ‘Ha! ye poaching rascal!’ came a voice from beneath.