“Well, what do you know about it?” demanded Wade.  Of course he had noticed this particular dog, but to no purpose.  On this occasion the dog repeated so unmistakably former overtures of friendship that Wade gave him close scrutiny.  He was neither young nor comely nor thoroughbred, but there was something in his intelligent eyes that struck the hunter significantly.  “Say, maybe I overlooked somethin’?  But there’s been a heap of dogs round here an’ you’re no great shucks for looks.  Now, if you’re talkin’ to me come an’ find that hole.”

Whereupon Wade began another search around the corral.  It covered nearly an acre of ground, and in some places the fence-poles had been sunk near rocks.  More than once Wade got down upon his hands and knees to see if he could find the hole.  The dog went with him, watching with knowing eyes that the hunter imagined actually laughed at him.  But they were glad eyes, which began to make an appeal.  Presently, when Wade came to a rough place, the dog slipped under a shelving rock, and thence through a half-concealed hole in the fence; and immediately came back through to wag his stump of a tail and look as if the finding of that hole was easy enough.

“You old fox,” declared Wade, very much pleased, as he patted the dog.  “You found it for me, didn’t you?  Good dog!  Now I’ll fix that hole, an’ then you can come to the cabin with me.  An’ your name’s Fox.”

That was how Fox introduced himself to Wade, and found his opportunity.  The fact that he was not a hound had operated against his being taken out hunting, and therefore little or no attention had been paid him.  Very shortly Fox showed himself to be a dog of superior intelligence.  The hunter had lived much with dogs and had come to learn that the longer he lived with them the more there was to marvel at and love.

Fox insisted so strongly on being taken out to hunt with the hounds that Wade, vowing not to be surprised at anything, let him go.  It happened to be a particularly hard day on hounds because of old tracks and cross-tracks and difficult ground.  Fox worked out a labyrinthine trail that Sampson gave up and Jim failed on.  This delighted Wade, and that night he tried to find out from Andrews, who sold the dog to Belllounds, something about Fox.  All the information obtainable was that Andrews suspected the fellow from whom he had gotten Fox had stolen him.  Belllounds had never noticed him at all.  Wade kept the possibilities of Fox to himself and reserved his judgment, and every day gave the dog another chance to show what he knew.

[Illustration:  “I’m beginnin’ to feel that I couldn’t let her marry that Buster Jack,” soliloquized Wade, as he rode along the grassy trail.]