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CHAPTER IV SHARP EYES IS HURT SHARP EYES, the
silver fox, could run very fast. So could Red Tail. And they knew they must run
fast to get away from the dogs of the hunter. For when men go out to hunt wild
animals or to trap them, dogs generally go with the men, and though a man can
not run as fast as a fox or a deer, dogs can. Red Tail told this
to Sharp Eyes as they hurried along together. Behind them could be heard the
rumble and roar of the man’s gun, sounding like thunder. “Hurry, Sharp
Eyes!” cried Red Tail. “Don’t let the hunter see you!” “What will he do if
he sees me?” asked the little fox boy. “He’ll try to shoot
you with his gun. That is, he will if he can not catch you alive.” “Why would he want
to catch me alive?” asked Sharp Eyes, as he trotted along beside the other fox.
They slunk down between bushes, ran under fallen trees, crawled beneath old
logs, and even ran in brooks of water. “He’d like to catch
you, instead of shooting you, because you are now a small fox, and will be
bigger some day,” answered Red Tail. “The bigger you are the more fur you’ll
have, and it is for your fine silver fur that the hunter or trapper would like
to get you.” “Wouldn’t he like
yours, too?” asked Sharp Eyes. “Well, yes, I guess
he’d take my fur, too, if he could get it,” answered Red Tail. “But mine is not
so nice as yours. Of course it keeps me just as warm, and all that, but people
who want fox furs seem to like your silver color better, though why, I don’t
know. You are a rare fox, and more hunters or trappers will try to get you than
would try to get me. So be careful!” “I will,” promised
Sharp Eyes. Then he asked: “Don’t you think we can stop running now and take a
rest? I’m tired,” and indeed the little fox boy was weary. His tongue was
hanging out of his mouth and his legs ached. “No, we can’t stop
yet,” said Red Tail. “We must run on a little more. Then we can hide in the
dark woods away from the hunter and his dogs and take a long rest.” So on the two foxes
ran farther and farther until at last Red Tail, who was older than Sharp Eyes,
and who had been chased by dogs and hunters before, and knew their ways, said
it would be safe to rest. They lay down on the leaves under a tree and stayed
as quiet as mice. They listened, but could not hear the barking of the dogs nor
the bang of the gun. “I guess we got
safely away,” said Red Tail, as he crept out a little way and lapped up some
water from a brook. Sharp Eyes did the same, for they were both very thirsty
from their run. “Is it all right to
go home now?” asked Sharp Eyes, when he had rested till his tongue was no
longer hot nor his legs tired. “I’d better take a
peep around and see,” answered his friend. “I know more about hunters and dogs
than you do.” So Red Tail peeped
out from behind some bushes, ready to skip back again and hide in case he saw
danger. But he saw none, and, after a little while, he and Sharp Eyes went on
to their homes, which were not houses such as you live in, but a hole in a
hollow log or a den under the earth with some rough stones for a front door. “Well! where have
you been, Sharp Eyes?” asked his sister Winkle, as he scrambled down inside the
hollow log. “Oh, I’ve been
chased by a hunter and his dogs, and I heard his gun fired,” answered the
little fox boy. “You did?” cried his
mother, who was listening to what he said. “Oh, Sharp Eyes, you must be
careful!” “I will. That’s
what Red Tail told me.” “And don’t go too
much with that Red Tail boy, either,” said Mr. Fox. “He is a daring sort of
chap, and he might lead you into danger. Once he went to a farmyard in broad
daylight and took a chicken. He ought to have waited until night. He is very
daring.” “Well, he was good
to me,” said Sharp Eyes. “He showed me how to run away from the hunter.” “You must have had
a terrible time,” said little Winkle. “Oh, it was a sort
of adventure,” answered Sharp Eyes. “What’s adventure?”
Twinkle, his brother, asked. “It’s things that
happen to you,” answered Sharp Eyes. “And then they are put into a book. That’s
what happened to Slicko.” “Who’s Slicko?”
asked Winkle. “A jumping
squirrel,” replied Sharp Eyes, and he told of the talk the two had had
together. For some days after this nothing much happened to Sharp Eyes. He stayed with his father and mother and brother and sister in their hollow log house, going out now and then to get something to eat, or to drink water at the brook. “That boy of ours is going to
be very smart,” said Mr. Fox to his wife one day. “What makes you
think so?” she asked. “Why, when we were
out hunting in the woods to-day he saw a big muskrat that I couldn’t see, and
he caught it.” “Yes, I think he
has the best eyes, for seeing things to eat, of any foxes in this wood,” said
Mrs. Fox. “I only wish his fur was a different color.” “Why?” “Because it is too
beautiful. If it was red or brown, like yours and mine, the hunters and
trappers would not be after him so much. But he is a silver fox, and you know
how such skins are prized. There is a big reward for a silver fox skin, Red
Tail’s mother told me.” “Yes, I suppose
there is,” said Mr. Fox. “I remember hearing, when I was a boy, that a silver
skin was much sought after by hunters. I never was colored that way myself, but
I knew a fox who was a boy when I was. He had silver fur, and one day he did
not come to play with us. We asked where he was, and his father said a hunter
had shot him to get his silver fur.” “It’s too bad,”
said Mrs. Fox. “I wish the hunters would leave us alone. I must tell Sharp Eyes
to be careful.” Each night, now
that he was big enough, Sharp Eyes went out with his father or mother, Twinkle
or Winkle sometimes going with them, to hunt for things to eat. When they dared
they went to a farm which was not far from the North Woods where they lived. “It is easier to
get a chicken or a duck than to hunt for a wild turkey or the wood mice,” said
Mr. Fox. “We’ll eat at the farmyard if we can.” And often they did,
though sometimes the dogs barked when the foxes came near, or the farmer and
his men would come out with guns, and the foxes would have to run away. At such
times they had to hunt for something to eat in the woods. And, if they did not
find it, they would go hungry. That was no fun. One night, when the
whole fox family had been out hunting and had been frightened away from the
farm by barking dogs, they were all very hungry. “I wish I had
something to eat,” sighed Winkle. “Well, we can’t
have anything, so we’ll just have to wait,” said her mother. “Where’s Sharp
Eyes?” asked Mr. Fox. “Didn’t he come back with us?” “He said he was
going back to the farm, and try to get a chicken or a duck,” returned Twinkle.
“He said he was terribly hungry. And so am I.” “Sharp Eyes may be
caught,” said Mrs. Fox. “You had better go back and make him come with you,”
she went on to Mr. Fox. “I will,” said he,
but just as he started out on the woodland path, Sharp Eyes came running along,
with a big chicken slung over his back. “Look what I got!”
he barked, as he laid it in front of his mother. “Where did you get
it?” asked Winkle. “At that farmyard.
I waited until the wind was blowing the other way, so the dogs could not smell
me coming, and then I crawled in and got this bird.” “It’s a wonder you
weren’t caught yourself,” said his father. “You are getting as reckless as Red
Tail. You must look out for danger.” “I did,” answered
Sharp Eyes. Then they all ate the chicken he had brought, and his mother said
he was very clever. “But you’ll not
always be as lucky as that,” said Red Tail to Sharp Eyes the next day, when the
fox boy told what he had done. “Some day you may be caught in a trap.” “What’s a trap?”
asked Sharp Eyes. “Is it like a book that Slicko the squirrel had adventures
in?” “No, a trap is
something that hurts you,” said Red Tail. A few days after
that the silver fox had a chance to see for himself, and feel for himself, what
a trap was like. Sharp Eyes was
trotting along through the woods, not far from the farmer’s yard; and as he was
looking toward it hoping he might catch a stray duck or a rooster, all of a
sudden he saw a chicken lying to one side of the path. “Oh, ho!” said
Sharp Eyes to himself. “I’ll just get that and take it home for lunch.” So he crept softly
up on the chicken, which did not seem to know a fox was so near. When he was
close enough, Sharp Eyes gave a jump and came straight down on top of the fowl,
making a grab for it with his teeth. At the same time
there was a sharp click, and Sharp Eyes felt a sudden pain in one paw. It stung
and ached. “Oh!” cried the fox
boy. “I’m hurt! Something has me fast by the foot! Oh, what can it be? Did the
chicken bite me?” He tried to pull his paw loose, but could not. He was caught, and was held fast.  “‘Look what I got!’ he barked” |
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