An American gentleman was hunting foxes, accompanied by two bloodhounds. The dogs were soon in scent, and followed a fox nearly two hours, when suddenly they appeared at fault. The gentleman came up with them near a large log lying upon the ground, and was much surprised to find them taking a circuit of a few rods without an object, every trace of the game seeming to have been lost, while they still kept yelping. On looking round about himself, he saw sly Reynard stretched upon the log, as still as if he were dead. The master made several efforts to direct the attention of his dogs toward the fox, but failed. At last he went so near the artful creature that he could see it breathe. Even then no alarm was shown; and the gentleman, seizing a club, aimed a blow at him, which Reynard evaded by a leap from his strange hiding-place, having thus for a time effectually eluded his greedy pursuers.