The fox when he recovers has no more wish to renew the fight than he had to begin it, but the lurcher’s one thought is to destroy the hateful wild thing before her, or die in the attempt. Again they fight; only for a short while now; limb and wind are unequal to further effort; their exhaustion is complete. At last the lurcher recognises that to kill the fox is a task beyond her powers. After a time she staggers to her feet and looks into the eyes of Grey Fox, who has also risen. The meaning of the looks they exchange no pen can tell, unless it is that the curled lips and bare teeth bespeak undying hate. Then the lurcher withdraws, leaving the fox to himself. Reynard’s ears are pricked, he is listening to the retreating footfall, and when the sound dies away he drags himself into the bushes. There, screened from the light of the sun and the eyes of all observers, he sat and licked his wounds, interrupting the process only to rise and reconnoitre through an opening in one of the bushes. Though he saw nothing of the dog, the fears which urged him to withdraw became at last so insistent that he actually crept out in the broad sunshine and made for the earth. At once the hare was on the alert. His apprehension, however, subsided on seeing the crippled condition of his enemy, who was limping on three legs and had to pick his path. Soon the fox swerved to avoid a patch of broken ground within twenty yards of the form, and now he must pass close to its occupant. Discovery is certain, is imminent. The hare’s scent betrayed his near neighbourhood; his conspicuous eye betrayed his person. Did the fox, ravenous though he was, attempt the capture of the prey? Not at all, he knew the futility of trying in his disabled condition. The situation was one that called for the exhibition of his powers of make-believe. His aim was to convince the hare that he had not seen him, and to this all his cunning was directed; he checked the working of his nostrils excited by the scent, he averted his glance and looking straight before his long nose, which was badly scarred, held on as though ignorant of the hare’s presence, with the demeanour of a creature overwhelmed by misfortune. But the hare, every whit as crafty as he, had caught the glint of his eye, had observed the sudden arrest of the nostrils, had read his mind through and through, and before Grey Fox was abreast of the chantry had already made arrangements not to be at home when he called. An indescribable look came into the hare’s usually impassive eyes as he thought of the disappointment that awaited reynard, on whose mask as he crossed the ridge played an expression of satisfaction at the prize that would be his before the moon was very much older. The prospect of the delicious feast forced the memory of the fight into the background; for the rest of the way he ran on four legs, and it was of the hare, not of the lurcher, he was thinking when later