For a moment he stood,
head erect, full of poise and force in curb; a second squeak--he came
slowly back toward the sound and in so doing passed between Yan and
the Rabbit. He had crossed its old trail without feeling much
interest, but now the breeze brought its _body scent_. Instantly the
Fox gave up the Mouse hunt--no hunter goes after Mice when big game is
at hand--and began an elaborate and beautiful stalk of the Rabbit--the
Rabbit that he had not seen. But his nose was his best guide. He
cautiously zigzagged up the wind, picking his steps with the greatest
care, and pointing with his nose like a Pointer Dog. Each step was
bringing him nearer to Bunny as it slept or seemed asleep in the
tussock. Yan wondered whether he ought not to shout out and end the
stalk before the Rabbit was caught, but as a naturalist he was eager
to see the whole thing out and learn how the Fox would make the
capture. The red-furred gentleman was now within fifteen feet of the
tussock and still the gray one moved not. Now he was within twelve
feet--and no move; ten feet--and Bunny seemed in tranquil sleep; eight
feet--and now the Fox for the first time seemed to actually see his
victim.
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