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Authors: Daniel P. Mannix
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froze, afraid that he would be observed. The man held up the dead hound and shouted at the top of his voice. Tod could tell by the man's tone that he was filled with hatred and making some threat, much as Tod could tell that the vicious barking of a dog constituted a threat. Slowly the man turned and started back, carrying the dead hound while the hound on the lead followed him. When they were well gone, Tod rose stiffly and walked along the footpath, crawled through the culvert, and went up the hill to his pine-tree den. For once in his energetic life, he had had enough. He hoped never to see the man or any of his dogs again as long as he lived.
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3
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The First Hunt - Shooting at a Crossing
For the next few clays, Copper was supremely happy. His hated rival, Chief, was dead, and every time a current of air brought him the stale whiff of the Trigg's scent from the empty kennel, Copper knew a thrill of satisfaction. Yet this was only part of his joy. Every day now the Master came up the hill and picked him - and him alone - to go out. The other hounds screamed their frustration and jealousy, but little did Copper care. He was again top dog and the Master's chosen companion.
True, he could have wished that the Master would do some real hunting rather than the boring, routine work required of him. The same day that Chief was killed and the Master had buried him in the dog graveyard up in the woods behind the cabin, the Master had gotten Copper and taken him back to the railroad tracks where the fox had jumped off. Although the scent was now cold, Copper had had no trouble following it through the junipers and to the culvert. Copper's educated nose told him the fox was not in the drain, so they had crossed the road to the other side. Here Copper had gotten a distinct air-borne scent from the hillside ahead. The fox was lying up on the slope, probably watching them at that very minute. He had promptly thrown his deep voice and strained at the lead, but the Master was strangely obtuse and held him back. Instead, the Master had studied the hillside carefully for some time and then dragged the reluctant Copper back to the car.
From then on, the Master had picked up Copper every morning at sunrise, put him in the car, and they had driven for hours over the rough back roads. From time to time, the Master would stop the car so suddenly that Copper was nearly thrown from his rack behind the front seat. Then the Master would get out and stare at the road, sometimes walking back and forth slowly and sometimes bending over to stare at marks in the soft dust that apparently told him something, although Copper could not imagine what. Then they would go on, only to repeat the process again and again.
But sometimes after such a study the Master would call Copper out of the car, snap on the lead, and take him over the fields to a point where two fence lines crossed, a fallen log over a stream, or a gap in the hedgerow. If the ground was muddy, the Master was content with his own observations, but if it was hard or there was grass, he would call on Copper. Copper would apply his marvelous nose to the place indicated, and if a fox had passed that way within the last twenty-four hours, he would throw his tongue.
In such cases, the Master would let him follow the line to a soft place where there were marks. Then the Master after examining them would often pull him off, saying, "No!" For a long time, Copper could not understand the difficulty. He had long ago learned not to speak on the trail of a gray fox. For some reason, grays were useless to the Master. Copper never smelled their hides with the stretching boards inside hanging on the side of the cabin, anti so he was scrupulously careful to make sure the scent was that of a red before giving tongue. Even so, for some time the Master clearly did not find what he was seeking. Copper was eager to help, and felt that somehow he was being remiss in his duties, yet he had no
----
3
=====
The First Hunt - Shooting at a Crossing
For the next few clays, Copper was supremely happy. His hated rival, Chief, was dead, and every time a current of air brought him the stale whiff of the Trigg's scent from the empty kennel, Copper knew a thrill of satisfaction. Yet this was only part of his joy. Every day now the Master came up the hill and picked him - and him alone - to go out. The other hounds screamed their frustration and jealousy, but little did Copper care. He was again top dog and the Master's chosen companion.
True, he could have wished that the Master would do some real hunting rather than the boring, routine work required of him. The same day that Chief was killed and the Master had buried him in the dog graveyard up in the woods behind the cabin, the Master had gotten Copper and taken him back to the railroad tracks where the fox had jumped off. Although the scent was now cold, Copper had had no trouble following it through the junipers and to the culvert. Copper's educated nose told him the fox was not in the drain, so they had crossed the road to the other side. Here Copper had gotten a distinct air-borne scent from the hillside ahead. The fox was lying up on the slope, probably watching them at that very minute. He had promptly thrown his deep voice and strained at the lead, but the Master was strangely obtuse and held him back. Instead, the Master had studied the hillside carefully for some time and then dragged the reluctant Copper back to the car.
From then on, the Master had picked up Copper every morning at sunrise, put him in the car, and they had driven for hours over the rough back roads. From time to time, the Master would stop the car so suddenly that Copper was nearly thrown from his rack behind the front seat. Then the Master would get out and stare at the road, sometimes walking back and forth slowly and sometimes bending over to stare at marks in the soft dust that apparently told him something, although Copper could not imagine what. Then they would go on, only to repeat the process again and again.
But sometimes after such a study the Master would call Copper out of the car, snap on the lead, and take him over the fields to a point where two fence lines crossed, a fallen log over a stream, or a gap in the hedgerow. If the ground was muddy, the Master was content with his own observations, but if it was hard or there was grass, he would call on Copper. Copper would apply his marvelous nose to the place indicated, and if a fox had passed that way within the last twenty-four hours, he would throw his tongue.
In such cases, the Master would let him follow the line to a soft place where there were marks. Then the Master after examining them would often pull him off, saying, "No!" For a long time, Copper could not understand the difficulty. He had long ago learned not to speak on the trail of a gray fox. For some reason, grays were useless to the Master. Copper never smelled their hides with the stretching boards inside hanging on the side of the cabin, anti so he was scrupulously careful to make sure the scent was that of a red before giving tongue. Even so, for some time the Master clearly did not find what he was seeking. Copper was eager to help, and felt that somehow he was being remiss in his duties, yet he had no
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