The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1903-03-20
Fanfuil'C
Last Race

aimlessly at his chain He well knew
| it was hopeless trying to get away,
but as you probably have pinched
yourself to make sure you were awake
SO did this bushy little prisoner strain
| his chain only to feel the hated collar
couldn't be true, he sometimes thought;
it was too cruel. 1t must be Il bad
dream and he would wake up But
70; the chain was taut.
His makeshift house was painted
green, but so unlike the soft, cool
green's of his beloved woods. 1t stood
near the curb OH an asphalt sidewalk
III Niagara Falls.
Fantail belonged to the owner of
stuffy store, where they sold many
travellers Canadian furs, birch bark
canoes and all sorts of useless souve-
Mrs.
The day was very hot, and the heat
cd sidewalk burned his tough little
feet, used as they were to all sorts of
hardships which come into every fox's
eyentful life.
There seemed little choice between
lying outside in the broiling sun or al
most smothering in the close, green
box which was now his only home.
What an insult it was to this freeman
of the fields, whose home had been
only bounded by the endurance of his
muscular little legs, for as far as they
would carry him, under the good, blue
SKY, was home. the birthright of all
natures children!
OF course every spring he had built
d coy nest. where he could safely
leave his precious mate while out hunt
ing belated rabbits and indiscreet
chipmunks. 1t was so nice to return
with goodly supply for supper and
find his loving little family eagerly
watching for him.
That last night they had waited in
vain. All. how he hated to think of it!
How often he wondered what they
had done without the supper he had
abandoned in despair when that cold,
relentless thing snapped with such al
ugly sound on his hind feet!
What had become of those two prom
Using little Fantails he had loved so
much, too young to battle with the
world? And the gentle mate, had her
responsibility been too great without
him to share the burden?
All these cruel thoughts ran riot in
his tired, discouraged little brain. Then
people would insist upon stroking him,
especially when it was hot. How he
hated them! Were they not all of the
same breed as his captor? He fairly
shuddered al their touch and wondered
how in the world they got along with
their noses so far from the ground.
The sun went down, and Fantail
shifted the night air lovingly. Oh, for
run, for race, he thought, even for
life-yes. he would risk it just to
stretch his legs.
The whine of a dog behind the green
box brought him to his feet in an in
slant, listening and alert. There was a
strange buzzing too. OF course, he re-
membered now, it was some of the lit
tie man people whispering.
"Give me the knife, jim. I'll cut 1t
while you hold the cog. See that they
both start even, aud, mind, IL he
catches him l get the tail"
Fantail couldn't understand this
strange language. al he knew was
that moment later he was free, free
to test his powers against mongrel
yellow dog. 1t was hard at first to
make his legs. stiff from captivity, re-
spond to their OLD instincts. but with
backward, scornful glance at his pur
suer, not many lengths behind, he
knew him to be no ms Itch for his speed.
trained in many a race for life in the
old happy hunting grounds. Many
thoughts rushed through his brain as
he sped along, not knowing where, but
only faster, faster ard at each leap of
his 1.-THE body the painting behind grew
fainter
He was gaining and could already
smell the sweet damp moss and hear
the old familiar sounds, the woodpeck
er and the whppoorwill
What was that glstening, shining
thing ahead? A river, of course. Fan
tail had often swum rivers to hide his
tracks. How lucky it should be there
now! 1t didn't look very wide either
and in few minutes he would be
across-and free. AS he drew closer
there was strange wild roar which
whispered danger in his language, but
there was no time to hesitate. The surly
whines and yelps behind warned him
of his angry pursuer's revenge should
he overtake him.
A leap a plunge Bravely he struck
out, but he could not swim. His little
feet battled hopelessly, and with swirl
and last feeble effort he spun around
in the mad rush of the relentless cur
rent.
Above the roar of the fierce water he
tould hear the disappointed growls of
defeat as, baifled and breathless, the
yellow dog realized his prey was be
yond his reach. Ahead he saw a great
cloud of white mist and somehow
knew it meant death. How easily he
was being carried along on this strong
arm, and with peaceful little sigh he
ceased struggling. 1t was better, so
much better than that scorching pave
ment and stuffy green box, He could
feel the tight collar and hear the chain
clank, and anyway the race was run
and he had won.-Jane Bowling IN
Buffalo News.
A Small Boys Problem.
/ wonder how ia like it.
And | wonder who I'd be,