Old Granny Fox was running through
the overgrown old pasture, way up back of Farmer Brown’s.
She was cross and tired and hot, for it was a very
warm day. Behind her came Bowser the Hound, his
nose in Granny s tracks, and making a great noise with
his big voice. Granny Fox was cross because she
was tired. She hadn’t done much running
lately. She didn’t mind running when the
weather was cold, but now—“Oh dear,
it is hot!” sighed old Granny Fox, as she stopped
a minute to rest.
Now old Granny Fox is very, very smart
and very, very wise. She knows all the tricks
with which foxes fool those who try to catch them.
She knew that she could fool Bowser the Hound and puzzle
him so that he wouldn’t be able to follow her
track at all. But she wasn’t ready to do
that yet. No, indeed! Old Granny Fox was
taking great care to see that her tracks were easy
to follow. She wanted Bowser the Hound to follow
them, although it made her tired and hot and cross.
Why did she? Well, you see, she was trying to
lead him, and with him Farmer Brown’s boy, far,
far away from the home where Reddy Fox was nursing
the wounds that he had received when Farmer Brown’s
boy had shot at him a few days before.
“Bow, wow, wow!” roared
Bowser the Hound, following every twist and turn which
Granny Fox made, just as she wanted him to. Back
and forth across the old pasture and way up among the
rocks on the edge of the mountain Granny Fox led Bowser
the Hound. It was a long, long, long way from
the Green Meadows and the Green Forest. Granny
Fox had made it a long way purposely. She was
willing to be tired herself if she could also tire
Bowser the Hound and Farmer Brown’s boy.
She wanted to tire them so that when she finally puzzled
and fooled them and left them there, they would be
too tired to go back to the Green Meadows.
By and by Granny Fox came to a hole
in the ground, an old house that had once belonged
to her grandfather. Now this old house had a
back door hidden close beside the hollow trunk of a
fallen tree. Old Granny Fox just ran through
the house, out the back door, through the hollow tree,
and then jumped into a little brook where there was
hardly more than enough water to wet her feet.
Walking in the water, she left no scent in her tracks.
Bowser the Hound came roaring up to
the front door of the old house. Granny’s
tracks led right inside, and Bowser grew so excited
that he made a tremendous noise. At last he had
found where Granny Fox lived; at least he thought
he had. He was sure that she was inside, for
there were her fresh tracks going inside and none
coming out. Bowser the Hound never once thought
of looking for a back door. If he had, he wouldn’t
have been any the wiser, because, you know, old Granny
Fox had slipped away through the hollow tree trunk.
Granny Fox grinned as she listened
to the terrible fuss Bowser was making. Then,
when she had rested a little, she stole up on the
hill where she could look down and see the entrance
to the old deserted house. She watched Bowser
digging and barking.After a while a worried look crept
into the face of old Granny Fox.
“Where’s Farmer Brown’s
boy? I thought surely he would follow Bowser
the Hound,” she muttered.