Reddy Fox Is Afraid To Go Home
Yes, Sir, a chicken track is good to see, but it often puts nothing but
water in my mouth.
—_Old Granny Fox_.
Reddy Fox thought of that saying many times as he hunted through the
Green Forest that night, afraid to go home. You see, he had almost
dined on Quacker the Duck over at the Big River that day and then
hadn’t, and it was all his own fault. That was why he was afraid to go
home. From his hiding-place on the bank he had watched Quacker swim in
and in until he was almost on the shore where old Granny Fox was
whirling and rolling and tumbling about as if she had entirely lost her
senses. Indeed, Reddy had been quite sure that she had when she began.
It wasn’t until he saw that curiosity was drawing Quacker right in so
that in a minute or two Granny would be able to catch him, that he
understood that Granny was anything but crazy, and really was teaching
him a new trick as well as trying to catch a dinner.
When he realized this, he should have been ashamed of himself for
doubting the smartness of Granny and for thinking that he knew all
there was to know. But he was too much excited for any such thoughts.
Nearer and nearer to the shore came Quacker, his eyes fixed on the red,
whirling form of Granny. Reddy’s own eyes gleamed with excitement.
Would Quacker keep on right up to the shore? Nearer and nearer and
nearer he came. Reddy squirmed uneasily. He couldn’t see as well as he
wanted to. The bushes behind which he was lying were in his way. He
wanted to see Granny make that jump which would mean a dinner for both.
Forgetting what Granny had charged him, Reddy eagerly raised his head
to look over the edge of the bank. Now it just happened that at that
very minute Quacker chanced to look that way. His quick eyes caught the
movement of Reddy’s head and in an instant all his curiosity vanished.
That sharp face peering at him over the edge of the bank could mean but
one thing—danger! It was all a trick! He saw through it now. Like a
flash he turned. There was the whistle of stiff wings beating the air
and the patter of feet striking the water as he got under way. Then he
flew out to the safety of the open water. Granny sprang, but she was
just too late and succeeded in doing no more than wet her feet.
Of course, Granny didn’t know what had frightened Quacker, not at
first, anyway. But she had her suspicions. She turned and looked up at
the place where Reddy had been hiding. She couldn’t see him. Then she
bounded up the bank. There was no Reddy there, but far away across the
snow-covered Green Meadows was a red spot growing smaller and smaller.
Reddy was running away. Then she knew. At first Granny was very angry.
You know it is a dreadful thing to be hungry and have a good dinner
disappear just as it is almost within reach.
“I’ll teach that young scamp a lesson he won’t soon forget when I get
home,” she muttered, as she watched him. Then she went back to the edge
of the Big River and there she found a dead fish which had been washed
ashore. It was a very good fish, and when she had eaten it Granny felt
better.
“Anyway,” thought she, “I have taught him a new trick and one he is n’t
likely to forget. He knows now that Granny still knows a few tricks
that he doesn’t, and next time he won’t feel so sure he knows it all. I
guess it was worth while even if I didn’t catch Quacker. My, but he
would have tasted good!” Granny smacked her lips and started for home.
But Reddy, with a guilty conscience, was afraid to go home. And so,
miserable and hungry, he hunted through the Green Forest all the long
night and wished and wished that he had heeded what old Granny Fox had
told him.