She taught them how to play dead, how to manage their trails so the Dogs could not step on them, how to pick a Squirrel’s teeth and bones, how to catch Field Mice without a trap, how to hunt Mares’ nests, how to play Leap Frog, and how to sing the woodland spring song. I have jotted down the words:
“Tinkety tank, tinkety tink, Haunt of the Weasel and haunt of the Mink; Tinkety tank, tinkety tink, Come little Foxes, come here and drink.”
This is the water song of the Fox family and corresponds to a college yell. Many a night, you can hear it over the hillsides, in deep, loud-mouthed bays that brook no delay and harbour a sinister meaning.
Among other things, she taught them these proverbs:
“Never sleep on your track until you have curled it up so much that it makes a soft bed.
“When your leader fails you, shuffle the pack for a new deal and turn up another trump.
“Money may not be your best friend, but it is the quickest to act in time of trouble. Therefore, trust your scent.
“Do not sleep in the river-bed when the springs that used to be there have rusted away.
“Never travel by daylight if you can help it. Take the night express and be there in the morning.
“If you don’t know what it is, bring it to Mamma. She will put you on.
“Never hunt for Hens in a boys’ college, nor for Mice in a female seminary.
“A gasolene automobile overpowers everything but a Skunk.
“If you climb telegraph poles to do the tight-rope act on the wires, don’t eat the currents.
“Take a yellow journal with you when you are going where there is no orange-coloured grass.
“If you can’t smell anything, the wind is wrong, and other people are smelling you. Turn around and it will be all right.
“Never feel ashamed of your clothes. Fox fur may not be Sealskin, but it is expensive enough to be decent.
“Never throw an Indian off the scent. It is against the coin-mutilation law.
“Try to use other people’s experience and profit by bad example. Pattern after the Indians, who never moccasin.
“Let the Snakes alone; fur boas do not grow wild.
“When you drop your Rabbit’s foot, look out for falling hair.”
The instruction was interrupted by a strange animal flopping wildly about in front of the den, as though attached to a chain. It was smaller than Hoop-La and of a different colour. It had bright red on its head and body, and, even at that distance, I could see a tail long enough to make a three-volume novel. Then my heart gave a violent lunge into my ribs. Unquestionably, it was Jocko!