So he knew that they had
just made themselves invisible by squatting absolutely motionless among
the twigs and moss which they so exactly resembled in coloring.
The fox, meanwhile, had been gazing around in every direction but the
right one, to try and see where that partridge cry had come from. He
liked partridge, and it was some time since he had had any. All at
once he was surprised and pleased to see a hen partridge, apparently
badly wounded, drop fluttering on the moss almost under his nose. He
sprang forward to seize her, but she managed to flutter feebly out of
his reach. It was obviously her last effort, and he was not in the
least discouraged. She proved, however, to have many such last
efforts, and the last the Child saw of the fox he was still hopefully
jumping at her, as he disappeared from view among the underbrush.
About three minutes later there was a hard whirr of wings, and the
triumphant little mother reappeared. She alighted on the very spot
whence she had first caught sight of the fox, stood for a moment
stiffly erect, while she stared about her with keen, bright eyes, and
then she gave a soft little call. Instantly the chicks were all about
her, apparently springing up out of the ground as at the utterance of a
spell.
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