They moved up the river about twenty yards, and then made a semi-circle toward the shore. Here they found a small creek, and up this they moved as silently as possible. “We must be getting close to one of the fellows,” whispered Boxy. “That sound came from this vicinity.” “Hush, Boxy, he may----” Harry did not finish, for at that instant a bark sounded so closely to them that both sprang back in alarm. A little open glade was before them, and directly in the center of it both boys discovered a silver gray fox, standing with one forefoot raised, listening for an answer to his call. CHAPTER XI. A LUCKY SHOT. Boxy was about to say something, but Harry quickly placed his hand over his companion’s mouth and motioned him to remain silent. Then he raised his gun, and pointed to Boxy to do the same. A brief interval of silence followed, and then, bang! went Boxy’s gun, before he had had time to take anything like a correct aim. The shot spread out over the fox’s head, and caused him to leap to one side in alarm. “Didn’t I hit him?” cried Boxy. Bang! went Harry’s gun. His aim was better than Boxy’s, and off limped the fox on three legs, the left hind one having received part of the charge of shot. “You hit him, even if I didn’t!” yelled Boxy. “But he’ll get away from us, I’m afraid!” “Hurry and load up!” cried Harry. “We can get him if we try.” They reloaded the guns with all possible speed, running after the fox as they did so. It was hard work with the skates on their feet, and just as they got the animal again in sight Boxy tripped and went down on his knees in a hollow. His gun went off as he tumbled, and the shot grazed the fox’s neck, causing a painful wound. The animal let out a yelp of rage, and turned to leap down into the very hollow into which Boxy had tumbled. “Shoot him, Harry!” cried the boy, in sudden terror. “He’s coming after me!” Boxy was partly right. As the fox reached the bottom of the opening he spied Boxy, and, feeling ugly, he did not attempt to get away, but sprang directly for Boxy’s face. It was a thrilling moment, for, though small, a fox is exceedingly savage when aroused, and with his long, sharp teeth can do serious damage. Boxy squirmed to one side, and the animal landed on his shoulder. He buried his teeth into the boy’s overcoat, snapping and snarling as he did so. Then a loud report rang out, as Harry fired. He was not over three yards away, and his aim was true. The fox received the greater part of the shot in his side, and, with a backward leap he tumbled over dead. It was several seconds before Boxy managed to scramble to his feet. He was as white as a ghost, and trembling in every limb. “Is he--he dead?” he gasped, as he surveyed the fox from a slight distance. “I guess he is, but there is nothing like making sure, he is such a sly creature,” responded Harry, and, going up, he struck the head of the animal a resounding blow with the butt of his gun. “Yes, he’s dead enough.”