If the fox was dead, they enjoyed the scent of his blood.

If only wounded, they went after him with all speed.

Sometimes he was overtaken and killed, and sometimes he got into his burrow in the earth, or in a hollow log, or among the rocks.
"One day, I remember, when I was standing on the outside of the circle, the fox came in sight.

I fired.

He gave a shrill bark, and came toward me.