Upset the deepest, best laid plan.
Reddy Fox was very pleased with himself as he thought how much smarter he was than Old Man Coyote. He didn't waste any time in pushing open the henyard gate. It didn't enter his head that there might be a trap inside. He was so eager to find out if the little door where in daytime the hens ran in and out of the henhouse was open, that he jumped inside the henyard just as soon as the gate was pushed open wide enough for him to enter.
Old Man Coyote, watching from his hiding place, saw Reddy push the gate open and enter the henyard. "So far, so good," muttered Old Man Coyote to himself. "There isn't any trap just inside that gate, so it will be safe enough for me to follow Reddy in there. I think I'll wait a bit, however, and see what luck he has in getting into the henhouse. If he catches a chicken he won't stop to eat it there. He won't dare to. All I need do is to wait right here around the corner, and if he brings a chicken out, I'll simply tell him to drop it. Then I will have the chicken and will have run no risk." You see Old Man Coyote is a very, very clever old sinner.
So Old Man Coyote peeked through the wires and watched Reddy Fox, who thought himself so much smarter, steal swiftly across to the henhouse and try that little door. It was closed, but it wasn't fastened, as Reddy could tell by poking at it.
"It is just a matter of time and patience," muttered Reddy to himself. "If I keep at it long enough, I can work it open." You see Reddy had done that very thing once before a great while ago.
So he set himself to work with such patience as he could, and all the time Old Man Coyote watched and wondered what Reddy was doing. He guessed that Reddy was having some trouble, but also he knew from Reddy's actions that Reddy hoped to get inside that henhouse.
Now Reddy had left the henyard gate ajar. If he had pushed it wide open things might have been different. But he didn't push it wide open. He left it only halfway open. By and by there happened along a mischievous little Night Breeze. There is nothing that a mischievous little Night Breeze enjoys more than making things move. This mischievous little Night Breeze found that that gate would swing, so it blew against that gate and blew and blew until suddenly, with a sharp little click, the gate closed and the spring latch snapped into place. Reddy Fox was a prisoner!
CHAPTER XIV
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BEING INSIDE AND OUTSIDE
That he who's in fain would be out.
It certainly is queer what a difference there is between being inside and outside. Sometimes happiness is inside and sometimes it is outside. Sometimes the one who is inside wishes with all his might that he were outside, and sometimes the one who is outside would give anything in the world to be inside.
Just take the case of Reddy Fox. He had stolen inside of Farmer Brown's henyard, leaving the gate halfway open. He had set himself to work to open the little sliding door through which in the daytime the hens passed in and out of the henhouse. As he worked he had been filled with great contentment and joy. He knew that Bowser the Hound had disappeared. He felt sure that there was nothing to fear, and he fully expected to dine that night on chicken. Then along came a mischievous little Night Breeze and swung that gate shut.
At the click of the latch Reddy turned his head, and in a flash he saw what had happened. All in an instant everything had changed for Reddy Fox. Fear and despair took the place of contentment and happy anticipations. He was a prisoner inside that henyard.
Frantically Reddy rushed over to the gate. There wasn't even a crack through which he could thrust his sharp little nose. Then, beside himself with fear, he raced around that henyard, seeking a hole through which he might escape. There wasn't any hole. That fence had been built to keep out such people as Reddy Fox, and of course a fence that would keep Reddy out would also keep him in, if he happened to be caught inside as he now was. He couldn't dig down under it, because, you know, the ground was frozen hard and covered with snow and an icy crust. He was caught, and that was all there was to it.
Suddenly Reddy became aware of some one just outside the wire fence, looking in and grinning wickedly. It was Old Man Coyote. Between them was nothing but that wire, but, oh, what a difference! Reddy was inside and a prisoner. Old Man Coyote was outside and free.
"Good evening, Reddy," said Old Man Coyote. "I hope you'll enjoy your chicken dinner. When you are eating it, just think over this bit of advice: Never take a risk when you can get some one else to take it for you. I would like a chicken dinner myself, but as it is, I think I will enjoy a Mouse or two better. Pay my respects to Farmer Brown's boy when he comes in the morning."
With this, Old Man Coyote once more grinned that wicked grin of his and trotted away towards the Green Forest. Reddy watched him disappear and would have given anything in the world to have been outside the fence in his place instead of inside, where he then was.
CHAPTER XV
REDDY'S FORLORN CHANCE
There's nothing bad but might be worse.
If any one had said this to Reddy Fox during the first half hour after he discovered that he was a prisoner in Farmer Brown's henyard, he wouldn't have believed it. He wouldn't have believed a word of it. He would have said that he couldn't possibly have been worse off than he was.
He was a prisoner, and he couldn't possibly get out. He knew that in the morning Farmer Brown's boy would certainly discover him. It couldn't be otherwise. That is, it couldn't be otherwise as long as he remained in that henyard. There wasn't a thing, not one solitary thing, under or behind which he could hide. So, to Reddy's way of thinking, things couldn't possibly have been worse.
But after a while, having nothing else to do, Reddy began to think. Now it is surprising how thinking will change matters. One of the first thoughts that came to Reddy was that he might have been caught in a trap,—one of those cruel traps that close like a pair of jaws and sometimes break the bones of the foot or leg, and from which there is no escape. Right away Reddy realized that to have been so caught would have been much worse than being a prisoner in Farmer Brown's henyard. This made him feel just a wee, wee bit better, and he began to do some more thinking.
For a long time his thinking didn't help him in the least. At last, however, he remembered the chicken dinner he had felt so sure he was going to enjoy. The thought of the chicken dinner reminded him that inside the henhouse it was dark. He had been inside that henhouse before, and he knew that there were boxes in there. If he were inside the henhouse, it might be, it just might possibly be, that he could hide when Farmer Brown's boy came in the morning.
So once more Reddy went to work at that little sliding door where the hens ran in and out during the day. He already had found out that it wasn't fastened, and he felt sure that with patience he could open it. So he worked away and worked away, until at last there was a little crack. He got his claws in the little crack and pulled and pulled. The little crack became a little wider. By and by it was wide enough for him to get his whole paw in. Then it became wide enough for him to get his head half in. After this, all he had to do was to force himself through, for as he pushed and shoved, the little door opened. He was inside at last! There was a chance, just a forlorn chance, that he might be able to escape the notice of Farmer Brown's boy in the morning.
CHAPTER XVI
WHY REDDY WENT WITHOUT A CHICKEN DINNER
Than eaten at too great a cost.
Can you imagine Reddy Fox with a chicken dinner right before him and not touching it? Well, that is just what happened in Farmer Brown's henhouse. It wasn't because Reddy had no appetite. He was hungry, very hungry. He always is in winter. Then it doesn't often happen that he gets enough to eat at one meal to really fill his stomach. Yet here he was with a chicken dinner right before him, and he didn't touch it.
You see it was this way: Reddy's wits were working very fast there in Farmer Brown's henhouse. He knew that he had only a forlorn chance of escaping when Farmer Brown's boy should come to open the henhouse in the morning. He knew that he must make the most of that forlorn chance. He knew that freedom is a thousand times better than a full stomach.
On one of the lower roosts sat a fat hen. She was within easy jumping distance. Reddy knew that with one quick spring she would be his. If the henyard gate had been open, he would have wasted no time in making that one quick spring. But the henyard gate, as you know, was closed fast.
"I'm awfully hungry," muttered Reddy to himself, "but if I should catch and eat that fat hen, Farmer Brown's boy would be sure to notice the feathers on the floor the very minute he opened the door. It won't do, Reddy; it won't do. You can't afford to have the least little thing seem wrong in this henhouse. What you have got to do is to swallow your appetite and keep quiet in the darkest corner you can find,"
So Reddy Fox spent the rest of the night curled up in the darkest corner, partly behind a box. All the time his nose was filled with the smell of fat hens. Every little while a hen who was being crowded too much on the roost would stir uneasily and protest in a sleepy voice. Just think of what Reddy suffered. Just think how you would feel to be very, very hungry and have right within reach the one thing you like best in all the world to eat and then not dare touch it. Some foolish folks in Reddy's place would have eaten that dinner and trusted to luck to get out of trouble later. But Reddy was far too wise to do anything of that kind.
Doing as Reddy did that night is called exercising self-restraint. Everybody should be able to do it. But it sometimes seems as if very many people cannot do it. Anyway, they don't do it, and because they don't do it they are forever getting into trouble.
Reddy knew when morning came, although the henhouse was still dark. Somehow or other hens always know just when jolly, round, red Mr. Sun kicks his blankets off and begins his daily climb up in the blue, blue sky. The big rooster on the topmost perch stretched his long neck, flapped his wings, and crowed at the top of his voice. Reddy shivered. "It won't be long now before Farmer Brown's boy comes," thought he.
CHAPTER XVII
FARMER BROWN'S BOY DROPS A PAN OF CORN
Is one most difficult to fool.
In his lifetime Reddy Fox has spent many anxious moments, but none more anxious than those in which he waited for Farmer Brown's boy to open the henhouse and feed the biddies on this particular morning.
From the moment when the big rooster on the topmost perch stretched forth his neck, flapped his wings, and crowed as only he can crow, Reddy was on pins and needles, as the saying is. Hiding behind a box in the darkest corner of the henhouse, he hardly dared to breathe. You see, he didn't want those hens to discover him. He knew that if they did they would make such a racket that they would bring Farmer Brown's boy hurrying out to find out what the trouble was.
Reddy had had experience with hens before. He knew that if Farmer Brown's boy heard them making a great racket, he would know that something was wrong, and he would come all prepared. This was the one thing that Reddy did not want. His one chance to escape would be to take Farmer Brown's boy entirely by surprise.
Never had time dragged more slowly. The hens were awake, and several of them flew down to the floor of the henhouse. They passed so close to where Reddy was hiding that merely by reaching out a black paw he could have touched them. Because he took particular pains not to move, not even to twitch a black ear, they did not see him. Anyway, if they did see him, they took no notice of him. How the moments did drag! All the time he lay there listening, wishing that Farmer Brown's boy would come, yet dreading to have him come. It seemed ages before he heard sounds which told him that people were awake in Farmer Brown's house.
Finally he heard a distant door slam. Then he heard a whistle, a merry whistle. It drew nearer and nearer; Farmer Brown's boy was coming to feed the hens. Reddy tried to hold his breath. He heard the click of the henyard gate as Farmer Brown's boy opened it, then he heard the crunch, crunch, crunch of Farmer Brown's boy's feet on the snow.
Suddenly the henhouse door was thrown open and Farmer Brown's boy stepped inside. In his hand he held a pan filled with the breakfast he had brought for the hens. Suddenly a box in the darkest corner of the henhouse moved. Farmer Brown's boy turned to look, and as he did so a slim form dashed fairly between his legs. It startled him so that he dropped the pan and spilled the corn all over the henhouse floor. "Great Scott!" he exclaimed. "What under the sun was that?" and rushed to the door to see. He was just in time to get a glimpse of a red coat and a bushy tail disappearing around a corner of the barn.
CHAPTER XVIII
MUTUAL RELIEF
The wise Fox knows that with every chicken he steals he puts an increased price on his own skin.
Bowser the Hound.
When Reddy Fox dashed between the legs of Farmer Brown's boy and out of the open door of the henhouse, it was with his heart in his mouth. At least, it seemed that way. Would he find the henyard gate open? Supposing Farmer Brown's boy had closed it after he entered! Reddy would then be a prisoner just as he had been all night, and all hope would end.
Just imagine with what terrible anxiety and eagerness Reddy looked towards that gate as he dashed out of the open door. Just imagine the relief that was his when he saw that the gate was open. In that very instant the snowy outside world became more beautiful and wonderful than ever it had been in all his life before. He was free! free! free!
If ever there was a surprised boy, that boy was Farmer Brown's as he watched Reddy twist around a corner of the barn and disappear.
"Reddy Fox!" he exclaimed. "Now how under the sun did that rascal get in here?" Then, as he realized that Reddy had actually been inside the henhouse, anxiety for the biddies swept over him. Hastily he turned, fully expecting to see either the bodies of two or three hens on the floor, or scattered feathers to show that Reddy had enjoyed a midnight feast. There were no feathers, and so far as he could see, all the hens were standing or walking about.
At once Farmer Brown's boy began to count them. Of course, he knew exactly how many there should be. When he got through counting, not one was missing. Farmer Brown's boy was puzzled. He counted them again. Then he counted them a third time. He began to think there must be something wrong with his counting. After the fourth count, however, he was forced to believe that not a single one was missing.
If Reddy Fox had been relieved when he discovered that henyard gate open, Farmer Brown's boy was equally relieved when he found that not a single biddie had been taken. When two people are relieved at the same time, it is called mutual relief. But there was this difference between Reddy Fox and Farmer Brown's boy: Reddy knew all about what had happened, and Farmer Brown's boy couldn't even guess. He went all around that henhouse, trying to find a way by which Reddy Fox had managed to get in. Of course, he discovered that the little sliding door where the biddies go in and out of the henhouse was open. He guessed that this was the way by which Reddy had entered.
But this didn't explain matters at all. He knew that the gate had been latched when he entered the henyard that morning. How had Reddy managed to get into that henyard with that gate closed? To this day, Farmer Brown's boy is still wondering.
CHAPTER XIX
WHERE WAS BOWSER THE HOUND?
Bowser the Hound.
Where was Bowser the Hound? That was the question which was puzzling all the little people who knew him. Also it was puzzling Farmer Brown's boy and Farmer Brown and Mrs. Brown. I have said that it was puzzling all the little people who knew him. This is not quite true, because there were two who could at least guess what had become of Bowser. One was Old Man Coyote, who had, as you remember, led Bowser far away and got him lost. The other was Blacky the Crow, who had discovered Bowser in his trouble and had helped him.
Old Man Coyote didn't know exactly where Bowser was, and he wasn't interested enough to think much about it. He hoped that Bowser had been so badly lost that he never would return. Blacky the Crow knew exactly where Bowser was, but he kept it to himself. It pleases Blacky to have a secret which other people would give much to know. Blacky is one of those people who can keep a secret. He isn't at all like Peter Rabbit.
Reddy Fox was one who was very much interested in the fate of Bowser the Hound. As day after day went by and Bowser did not appear, Reddy had a growing hope that he never would appear.
"I can't imagine what Old Man Coyote could have done to Bowser," said Reddy to himself. "He certainly couldn't have killed Bowser in a fight, for that old rascal would never in the world dare face Bowser the Hound in a fight. But he certainly has caused something to happen to Bowser. If that bothersome dog never returns, it certainly will make things a lot easier for Granny Fox and myself."
As for Farmer Brown's boy, he was as much puzzled as any of the little people and a whole lot more worried. He drove all about the neighborhood, asking at every house if anything had been seen of Bowser, Nowhere did he get any trace of him. No one had seen him. It was very mysterious. Farmer Brown's boy had begun to suspect that Bowser had met with an accident somewhere off in the woods and had been unable to get help. It made Farmer Brown's boy very sad indeed. His cheery whistle was no longer heard, for he did not feel like whistling. At last he quite gave up hope of ever again seeing Bowser.
CHAPTER XX
WHERE BOWSER WAS
As bad, you think, as they can be,
Just lay aside your feelings sad;
The road ahead may turn, you see.
You remember that Blacky the Crow led poor Bowser to an old road and there left him. Blacky reasoned that if Bowser had any sense at all, he would know that that road must lead somewhere and would follow it. If he didn't have sense enough to do this, he deserved to starve or freeze, was the way Blacky reasoned it out. Of course Blacky knew exactly where the road would lead.
Now Bowser did have sense. Of course he did. The minute he found that road, a great load was taken from his mind. He no longer felt wholly lost. He was certain that all he had to do was to keep in that road, and sooner or later he would come to a house. The thing that worried him most was whether or not he would have strength enough to keep going until he reached that house. You remember that he was weak from lack of food, lame, and half frozen.
Poor old Bowser! He certainly was the picture of misery as he limped along that road. His tail hung down as if he hadn't strength enough to hold it up. His head also hung low. He walked on three legs and limped with one of these. In his eyes was such a look of pain and suffering as would have touched the hardest heart. He whined and whimpered as he limped along.
It seemed to him that he had gone a terribly long distance, though really it was not far at all, when something tickled his nose, that wonderful nose which can smell the tracks of others long after they have passed. But this time it wasn't the smell of a track that tickled his nose; it was something in the air. Bowser lifted his head and sniffed long and hard. What he smelled was smoke. He knew what that meant. Somewhere not very far ahead of him was a house.
With new hope and courage Bowser tried to hurry on. Presently around a turn of the road he saw a farmyard. The smell of the smoke from the chimney of the farmhouse was stronger now, and with it was mingled an appetizing smell of things cooking. Into Bowser's whimper there now crept a little note of eagerness as he dragged himself across the farmyard and up to the back door. There his strength quite left him. He didn't have enough left to even bark. All he could do was whine. After what seemed a long, long time the door opened, and a motherly woman stood looking down at him. Two minutes later Bowser lay on a mat close by the kitchen stove.
CHAPTER XXI
BOWSER BECOMES A PRISONER
There is no one in all the Great World more faithful than a faithful dog.
Bowser the Hound.
Bowser the Hound was a prisoner. Yes, Sir, Bowser was a sure-enough prisoner. But there is a great difference in prisons. Bowser was a prisoner of kindness. It seems funny that kindness should ever make any one a prisoner, but it is so sometimes.
You see, it was this way: When Bowser had been taken in to that strange farmhouse, he had been so used up that he had had only strength enough to very feebly wag his tail. Right away the people in that farmhouse knew what had happened to Bowser. That is, they knew part of what had happened to him. They knew that he had been lost and had somehow hurt one leg. They were very, very good to him. They fed him, and made a comfortable bed for him, and rubbed something on the leg which he had hurt and which had swollen. Almost right away after eating Bowser went to sleep and slept and slept and slept. It was the very best thing he could have done.
The next day he felt a whole lot better, but he was so stiff and lame that he could hardly move. He didn't try very much. He was petted and cared for quite as tenderly as he would have been at his own home. So several days passed, and Bowser was beginning to feel more like himself. The more he felt like himself, the more he wanted to go home. It wasn't that there he would receive any greater kindness than he was now receiving, but home is home and there is no place like it. So Bowser began to be uneasy.
"This dog doesn't belong anywhere around here," said the man of the house. "I know every Hound for miles around, and I never have seen this one before. He has come a long distance. It will not do to let him go, for he will try to find his way home and the chances are that he will again get lost. We must keep him in the house or chained up. Perhaps some day we may be able to find his owner. If not, we will keep him. I am sure he will soon become contented here."
Now that man knew dogs. Had Bowser had the chance, he would have done exactly what that man had said. He would have tried to find his way home, and he hadn't the least idea in the world in which direction home lay. But he didn't get the chance to try. When he was allowed to run out of doors it was always with some one to watch him. He was petted and babied and made a great deal of, but he knew all the time that he was a prisoner. He knew that if he was to get away at all he would have to sneak away, and somehow there never seemed a chance to do this. He was grateful to these kindly people, but down in his heart was a great longing for Farmer Brown's boy and home. He always felt this longing just a wee bit stronger when Blacky the Crow passed over and cawed.
CHAPTER XXII
FARMER BROWN'S BOY LOOKS IN VAIN
Is neither sold nor bought.
Alas, how few who seem to know
Its value as they ought.
As I have told you, Farmer Brown's boy had been all about the neighborhood asking at each farmhouse if anything had been seen of Bowser. Of course nothing had been seen of him, and so at last Farmer Brown's boy felt sure that something dreadful had happened to Bowser in the woods.
For several days he tramped through the Green Forest and up through the Old Pasture, looking for signs of Bowser. His heart was heavy, for you know Bowser was quite one of the family. He visited every place he could think of where he and Bowser had hunted together. He knew that by this time Bowser couldn't possibly be alive if he had been caught by a foot in a trap or had met with an accident in the woods. He had quite given up all hope of ever seeing Bowser alive again. But he did want to know just what had happened to him, and so he kept searching and searching.
One day Farmer Brown's boy heard that a strange dog had been found over in the next township. That afternoon he drove over there, his heart filled with great hope. But he had his long ride for nothing, for when he got there he found that the strange dog was not Bowser at all.
Meanwhile Old Man Coyote and Reddy Fox and Old Granny Fox had become very bold. They even came up around the henyard in broad daylight.
"I believe you know something about what has become of Bowser," Farmer Brown's boy said, as he chased Old Man Coyote away one day. "You certainly know that he isn't home, and I more than suspect that you know why he isn't home. I certainly shall have to get another dog to teach you not to be so bold."
But somehow Farmer Brown's boy couldn't bring himself quite to taking such a step as getting a new dog. He felt that no other dog ever could take Bowser's place, and in spite of the fact that he thought he had given up all hope of ever seeing Bowser again, 'way down deep inside was something which, if it were not hope, was something enough like it to keep him from getting another dog in Bowser's place.
Whenever he went about away from home, he kept an eye out for dogs in the farmyards he passed. He did it without really thinking anything about it. He had given up hope of finding Bowser, yet he was always looking for him.
CHAPTER XXIII
BOWSER'S GREAT VOICE
Will rob of joy the brightest day.
There is as much difference in the voices of dogs as in the voices of human beings. For that matter, this is true of many of the little people who wear fur. Bowser the Hound had a wonderful, deep, clear voice, a voice that could be heard a great distance. No one who knew it would ever mistake it for the voice of any other Hound.
As a rule, Bowser seldom used that great voice of his save when he was hunting some one. Then, when the scent was strong, he gave tongue so fast that you wondered how he had breath enough left to run. But now that he was a prisoner of kindness, in the home of the people who had taken him in when he had crept to their doorstep, Bowser sometimes bayed from sheer homesickness. When he was tied out in the yard, he would sometimes get to thinking of his home and long to see Farmer Brown and Mrs. Brown and especially his master, Farmer Brown's boy. Then, when he could stand it no longer, he would open his mouth and send his great voice rolling across to the woods with a tone of mournfulness which never had been there before.
But great as was Bowser's voice, and far as it would carry, there was none who knew him to hear it, save Blacky the Crow. You remember that Blacky knew just where Bowser was and often flew over that farmyard to make sure that Bowser was still there. So more than once Blacky heard Bowser's great voice with its mournful note, and understood it.
It troubled Blacky. Yes, Sir, it actually troubled Blacky. He knew just what was the matter with Bowser, but for the life of him he couldn't think of any way of helping Bowser. "That dog is homesick," croaked Blacky, as he sat in the top of a tall tree, scratching his head as if he thought he might scratch an idea out of it. "Of course he doesn't know how to get home, and if he tried he probably would get as badly lost as he was before. Anyway, they don't give him a chance to try. I can't lead Farmer Brown's boy over here because he doesn't understand my talk, and I don't understand his. There isn't a thing I can do but keep watch. I wish Bowser would stop barking. It makes me feel uncomfortable. Yes, Sir, it makes me feel uncomfortable. Old Man Coyote got Bowser into this trouble, and he ought to get him out again, but I don't suppose it is the least bit of use to ask him. It won't do any harm to try, anyway."
So Blacky started back for the Green Forest and the Old Pasture near Farmer Brown's to look for Old Man Coyote, and for a long time as he flew he could hear Bowser's voice with its note of homesickness and longing.
CHAPTER XXIV
BLACKY TRIES TO GET HELP
Than helping others whose distress you see.
On his way back to the Green Forest near Farmer Brown's home, Blacky the Crow kept a sharp watch for Old Man Coyote. But Old Man Coyote was nowhere to be seen, and it was too late to go look for him, because jolly, round, red Mr. Sun had already gone to bed behind the Purple Hills and the Black Shadows were hurrying towards the Green Forest.
Blacky never is out after dark. You might think that one with so black a coat would be fond of the Black Shadows, but it isn't so at all. The fact is, bold and impudent as Blacky the Crow is in daylight, he is afraid of the dark. He is quite as timid as anybody I know of in the dark. So Blacky always contrives to go to bed early and is securely hidden away in his secret roosting-place by the time the Black Shadows reach the edge of the Green Forest.
Perhaps it isn't quite fair to say that Blacky is afraid of the dark. It isn't the dark itself that Blacky fears, but it is one who is abroad in the dark. It is Hooty the Owl. Hooty would just as soon dine on Blacky the Crow as he would on any one else, and Blacky knows it.
The next morning, bright and early, Blacky flew over to the Old Pasture to the home of Old Man Coyote. Just as he got there he saw Old Man Coyote coming home from an all-night hunt. "I hope you have had good hunting," said Blacky politely.
Old Man Coyote looked up at Blacky sharply. Blacky is polite only when he wants to get something. "There was plenty of hunting, but little enough reward for it," replied Old Man Coyote. "What brings you over here so early? I should suppose you would be looking for a breakfast."
Now Blacky the Crow is a very wise fellow. He knows when it is to be sly and crafty and when it is best to be frank and out-spoken. This was a time for the latter. "I know where Bowser the Hound is," said Blacky. "I saw him yesterday."
Old Man Coyote pricked up his ears and grinned. "I thought he was dead," said he. "It's a long time since we've heard from Bowser. Is he well?"
"Quite well," replied Blacky, "but unhappy. He is homesick. I suspect that the trouble with Bowser is that he hasn't the least idea in which direction home lies. You enjoy running, so why not go with me to pay Bowser a visit and then lead him back home?"
Old Man Coyote threw back his head and laughed in that crazy fashion of his till the very hills rang with the sound of his voice.
CHAPTER XXV
BLACKY CALLS ON REDDY FOX
Are matters quite as different as night is from the day.
Blacky the Crow wasted no time with Old Man Coyote after he heard Old Man Coyote laugh. There was a note in that crazy laugh of Old Man Coyote's that told Blacky he might just as well talk to the rocks or the trees about helping Bowser the Hound. Old Man Coyote had led Bowser into his trouble, and it was quite clear that not only did he have no regrets, but he was actually glad that Bowser was not likely to return.
"You're a hard-hearted old sinner," declared Blacky, as he prepared to fly in search of Reddy Fox.
Old Man Coyote grinned. "It is every one for himself, you know," said he. "Bowser would do his best to catch me if he had the chance. So if he is in trouble, he can stay there for all of me."
It didn't take Blacky long to find Reddy Fox. You see, it was so early in the morning that Reddy had not retired for his daily nap. Like Old Man Coyote, he was just returning from a night's hunt when Blacky arrived.
"Hello, Reddy!" exclaimed Blacky. "You certainly are looking in mighty fine condition. That red coat of yours is the handsomest coat I've ever seen. If I had a coat like that I know I should be so swelled up with pride that I just wouldn't be able to see common folks. I'm glad you're not that way, Reddy. One of the things I like about you is the fact that you never allow your fine coat to make you proud. That is more than I can say for some folks I know."
Reddy Fox sat down with his big bushy tail curled around to keep his toes warm, cocked his head on one side, and looked up at Blacky the Crow as if he were trying to see right inside that black head to find out what was going on there.
"Now what has that black scamp got in his mind," thought Reddy. "He never pays compliments unless he wants something in return. That old black rascal has the smoothest tongue in the Green Forest. He hasn't come 'way over here just to tell me that I have a handsome coat. He wouldn't fly over a fence to tell anybody that unless it was for a purpose."
Aloud he said, "Good morning, Blacky. I suppose I must admit I have a fine coat. Perhaps I do look very fine, but if you could see under this red coat of mine, you would find mighty little meat on my ribs. To be quite honest, I am not feeling half as fine as I look. You lucky fellows who can fly and don't have to think about distances may be able to live well these days, but as for me, I've forgotten when last I had a good meal."
CHAPTER XXVI
RED WITS AND BLACK WITS
He's quick of wit who fools a Crow.
There is no greater flatterer in the Green Forest or on the Green Meadows than Blacky the Crow when he hopes to gain something thereby. His tongue is so smooth that it is a wonder it does not drip oil. He is crafty, is Blacky. But these same things are true of Reddy Fox. No one ever yet had a chance to accuse Reddy Fox of lacking in sharp wits. Mistakes he makes, as everybody does, but Reddy's wits are always keen and active.
Now Reddy knew perfectly well that Blacky wanted something of him, and this was why he was saying such pleasant things. Blacky the Crow knew that Reddy knew this thing, and that if he would make use of Reddy as he hoped to, he must contrive to keep Reddy wholly in the dark as to what he wanted done.
So as they sat there, Reddy Fox on the snow with his tail curled around his feet to keep them warm, and Blacky the Crow in the top of a little tree above Reddy's head, they were playing a sort of game. It was red wits against black wits. Reddy was trying to outguess Blacky, and Blacky was trying to outguess Reddy, and both were enjoying it. People with sharp wits always enjoy matching their wits against other sharp wits.
When Reddy Fox said that in spite of his fine appearance he had forgotten when last he had had a good meal, Blacky pretended to think he was joking. "You surprise me," said he. "Whatever is the matter with my good friend Reddy, that he goes hungry when he no longer has anything to fear from Bowser the Hound. By the way, I saw Bowser the other day."
At this, just for an instant, Reddy's eyes flew wide open. Then they half closed again until they were just two yellow slits. But quickly as he closed them, Blacky had seen that startled surprise. "Yes," said Blacky, "I saw Bowser the other day, or at least some one who looked just like him. Wouldn't you like to have him back here, Reddy?"
"Most decidedly no," replied Reddy with great promptness. "A dog is a nuisance. He isn't of any use in the wide, wide world."
"Not even to drive off Old Man Coyote?" asked Blacky slyly, for he knew that more than once Bowser the Hound had helped Reddy out of trouble with Old Man Coyote.
Reddy pretended not to hear this. "I don't believe you saw Bowser," said he. "I don't believe anybody will ever see Bowser again. I hope not, anyway." And Blacky knew by the way Reddy said this that it would be quite useless to ask Reddy to help get Bowser home.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE ARTFULNESS OF BLACKY
To be artful is to be very clever. It is to do things in a way so clever that people will not see what you are really doing. No one can be more artful than Blacky the Crow when he sets out to be.
Blacky was smart enough not to let Reddy know that he was seeking Reddy's help for Bowser. He soon found out that Reddy would not knowingly help the least little bit, so he decided at once that the only thing for him to do was to get Reddy to help unsuspectingly. He changed the subject very abruptly.
"How are the chickens at Farmer Brown's?" inquired he.
Reddy looked up and grinned. "They seem to be in just as good health as ever," said he, "so far as I can judge. Farmer Brown's boy seems to be terribly suspicious. He locks them up at night so tight that not even Shadow the Weasel could get his nose inside that henhouse."
Blacky's eyes twinkled, but he took care that Reddy should not see them. "Farmer Brown's boy is different from some folks I know," said he.
"How's that?" demanded Reddy Fox.
"Why," replied Blacky, "there is a certain farmyard I know of where the hens are not kept shut up at all in the daytime, but run around where they please. I see them every day when I am flying over. They certainly are fine-looking hens. I don't think I've ever seen fatter ones. Some of them are so fat they can hardly run."
As Reddy Fox listened, a look of eagerness crept into his eyes, and his mouth began to water. He just couldn't help it. "Where did you say those hens are?" he asked, trying to speak carelessly.
"I didn't say," replied Blacky, turning his head aside to hide a grin. "It is a long way from here, Reddy, so I don't believe you would really be interested."
"That all depends," replied Reddy. "I would go a long way if it were worth while. I don't suppose you noticed if there were any dogs about where those hens are?"
Blacky pretended not to hear this. "I've often thought," said he, "of you and Mrs. Reddy as I have looked down at those fat hens. It is too bad that they are so far away."
CHAPTER XXVIII
REDDY FOX DREAMS OF CHICKENS
Reddy Fox watched Blacky the Crow grow smaller and smaller until he was just a black speck in the distance. Finally he disappeared. Reddy looked very thoughtful. He looked that way because he was thoughtful. In fact, Reddy was doing a lot of hard thinking. He was thinking about those chickens Blacky had told him of. The more he thought of them, the hungrier he grew. You see, Reddy had been having rather a hard time to get enough to eat.
"Yes, Sir," said Reddy to himself, "I would go a long, long distance to get a good plump hen. I wish I knew just where that farm is that that black rascal talked about. I wonder if he has gone that way now. If I were sure that he has, I would make a little journey in that direction myself. But I'm not sure. That black rascal flies all over the country. That farm may lie in the direction he has gone now, and it may be in quite the opposite direction. Somehow I've got to find out in just which direction it is."
Reddy yawned, for he had been out all night, and he was sleepy. He decided that the best thing he could do would be to get a good rest. One must always be fit if one is to get on in this life. The harder one must work, the more fit one should keep, and a proper amount of sleep is one of the most necessary things in keeping fit. So Reddy curled up to sleep.
Hardly had his eyes closed when he began to dream. You see, he had been thinking so hard about those fat hens, and he was so hungry for one of them, that right away he began to dream of fat hens. It was a beautiful dream. At least, it was a beautiful dream to Reddy. Fat hens were all about him. They were so fat that they could hardly walk. Not only were they fat, but they seemed to think that their one object in life was to fill the stomachs of hungry foxes, for they just stood about waiting to be caught.
Never in all his life had Reddy Fox known anything so wonderful as was that dream. There were no dogs to worry him. There were no hunters with dreadful guns. All he had to do was to reach out and help himself to as many fat hens as he wanted. He ate and ate and ate, all in his dream, you know, and when he could eat no more he started for home. When he started for home the fat hens that were left started along with him. He led a procession of fat hens straight over to his home in the Old Pasture.
Just imagine how Reddy felt when at last he awoke and there was not so much as a feather from a fat hen anywhere about, while his stomach fairly ached with emptiness.