"Oh, in different places," said Mr. Fox. And he began to talk about the weather—how dry it was, and how much the country needed rain.
But Benny Badger was not to be fooled so easily.
"You haven't really answered my question," Benny reminded Mr. Fox bluntly. "I asked you where you've been finding birds' eggs. And I'll thank you to tell me, sir."
Mr. Fox gave a slight start. Benny's tone was none too pleasant. And Mr. Fox certainly didn't want to quarrel with him.
"If you wish to know anything about birds' eggs, why don't you ask a Prairie Chicken?" he inquired. "She would know a great deal more about eggs than I do."
To Benny, that suggestion seemed quite worth while. There was no doubt that what Mr. Fox said was true. And Benny wondered why he hadn't thought of the plan himself.
"Your advice," he told Mr. Fox, "is so good that I'm going to start right now to look for a Prairie Chicken. It's almost dawn now. And the Chickens will soon be getting up."
So Benny said good-by. And Mr. Fox tried to say good-by, too; but somehow he choked over the words, and began to cough so violently that Benny Badger was quite alarmed.
He waited anxiously until he saw that Mr. Fox was out of danger. And then he left him.
If he had looked back he might have seen his sly friend capering about in the gray light as if something amused him hugely. And no doubt Benny would have wondered what it could have been.