With that, the dog turned his back on the fox and went in through the little hole that was left in the fence for his use. But the fox stood waiting awhile, to see if none of the others appeared. And it was not long before a fine gosling stuck her head through the hole.
“Good-evening, little missie!” said the fox. “Please come a little closer.”
“I dare not,” said the gosling. “I am not allowed out at night. And I should so awfully like to get away. I am so frightened of Two-Legs. He roasted my mother the other day and ate her.”
“Shocking!” exclaimed the fox. “You mustn’t stay a moment longer in this murderer’s den. Come out to me and I will take you to a place where you will have nothing to fear.”
“If I only dared trust you!” said the gosling. “But I have ten sisters. I can’t leave them in the lurch.”
“I don’t think you had better wake them to-night,” said the fox. “Young ladies are so talkative and, if the dog or Two-Legs discovered your flight, it would be all up with us. You would be roasted forthwith and I should come in for a certain unpleasantness too: that goes without saying.”
“That is true,” said the gosling. “But will you promise me to fetch my sisters another time?”
“I give you my word that, from to-day, I will come every night and fetch one of the young ladies, until they are all rescued,” said the fox. “As far as lies in my power. There may be obstacles.”
“How kind you are!” whispered the gosling. “And I who thought that the wild animals were such terrible monsters! That’s what I’ve always been told. They said I must be particularly careful not to go into the forest, lest the worst of evils should befall me.”
“Sheer calumny!” said the fox. “All the animals in the forest are angels. I never heard of any one being roasted there. But come now, before we are perceived.”