It was the early spring time. The snow banks were melting away, leaving the brown earth soft enough for the flowers to push through as soon as they felt the warmth of the sun.

Across the high hill, which sloped down to the river, came a pair of foxes. The splendid Silver Fox, with a black mark across the eyes like a mask, was called Domino. The dainty little lady fox by his side, with a red coat and an elegant ruffle of white, was Snowyruff. They had met one day in the woods, and chosen each other for mates and friends for life, as is the way of foxes. Now they were searching through the woods for a place to build their home.

Snowyruff looked about the piney glade, nosed the ground, then began to dig. It was her way of saying, "I am satisfied. We'll set up housekeeping here."

She did not know that she had chosen the same sunny slope on which Domino himself had lived as a tiny cub, but she did know that it was a fine place for a home for a family of foxes. The hillside would be sheltered and warm; the den door would be hidden by the pine thicket near.

The deep snow and deep leaves had kept the earth soft enough for her to dig, so she worked away with a will. Domino sat on the hill and kept guard for an hour, then he took her place and worked while Snowyruff kept watch. So, working together, they built their home; a cozy, well-hidden den it was, too. No eye could detect it, though within a dozen feet; and as the warm spring sunshine set the grass growing, it was better hidden each day.

The pair were more and more careful not to be seen near the den. At last one day Snowyruff said to Domino: "Keep away now!" and he kept away from the den for days. While he was absent a wonderful thing happened: Five little foxes were born! When Snowyruff left them to slip down to the river for a cooling drink of water, Domino was there on the bank watching. She said to him in plain Fox language: "You must not come home yet," so he crouched with his head flat on the leaves, and she hurried back to the den.

The next day when she was hungry, she ate some of the food which they had stored up in the dry sand of the side chamber of the den. Two days later, she went to the door, and there was a pile of food—Domino had stolen down and left it for her and their babies. After that, every day, there was food at the door, or hidden in the grass near by.

When the cubs were nine days old their eyes opened, they whimpered less, and Snowyruff felt it safer to leave them. Domino now came in to see his family, and a proud father he was. He guarded them with the greatest care, and was as devoted to them as Mother Snowyruff herself.

When they were about a month old, the little toddlers were brought out into the sunlight in front of the den. There they romped and wrestled and raced with each other. Sometimes they chased flies or bumble-bees, sometimes they made a fine game of catching Mother's tail, or tussled over a dried duck's wing.

As the days passed and the young foxes grew stronger, Domino and Snowyruff began teaching them to find food for themselves. Live game was brought home each day. Sometimes a frog, or a fat field mouse, was brought, and then turned loose for the youngsters to re-capture. Once Domino called, "Chur-chur-chur," and when the rollicking cubs came tumbling over one another, he dropped a live muskrat in their midst. They pounced on it, but the muskrat was a desperate fighter. It seemed for a time that he would win, but the father and mother only looked on. They must let their children learn to do hard things for themselves, so they waited until one cub was strong enough and quick enough to lay the muskrat low.

The happy growing days went by, and the cubs had not learned the meaning of fear. One day Domino was returning home with food. Five little black noses, ten little beady eyes, set in woolly heads, were bunched at the den door. Suddenly the bay of a hound sounded near and Domino leaped on a stump to listen. There was no mistake; the hound was coming nearer the home place. Snowyruff warned the little ones, and Domino loped bravely out to meet his enemy. He showed himself boldly, and even barked defiance at the big hound, then dashed away, leading him farther and farther from the den.

Domino ran hard for an hour, then began trying to throw the hound off his trail, but it was not easy. The hound was swift and keen in following the trail, and though he doubled, crossed, and tried every trick he knew, Domino could not throw him off. The fox ran lightly ahead, the hound crashing heavily after him, baying loudly. At last Domino led his enemy along a narrow ledge which ran at the edge of a cliff overhanging the river.

On they went. Domino was growing very tired. His steps were lagging so that the hound was gaining upon him at every jump. Up and up they went; Domino went slower still. The hound could see him just ahead. He drew closer with each bound. At last Domino reached the top of the cliff. His black coat gleamed against the sky. He could go no farther; it was the end of the trail. The hound plunged forward, and leaped at the fox; but Domino sprang lightly aside, and the hound plunged headlong over the rugged cliff. He was hurled down into the icy flood below. He swam out as best he could, battered and bleeding, and limped home, whining with pain. Domino turned back and ran to the den, where five little black noses, ten little beady eyes, set in five little woolly heads, waited for their father.

Live Game Was Brought Home Each Day

The hound never came back again, and the Fox family lived in peace until the little foxes grew large enough to leave the home den and make homes for themselves.

Questions

1. What kind of home does a fox build for his family?

2. What kind of lessons did the Fox children have to be taught?

3. What did Domino do that reminds you of what a human father would do for his family?

4. Make a list of the things the Fox family did that seem almost human.