“Come on, Sic’em! Let’s go fox hunting!” And he and the old dog followed Danny Fox’s footprints over the snow.
“He lives under that pile of rocks, sure enough,” said the Kind Farmer, following Danny Fox’s trail right up to his front door. “But how shall I get him out?”
And that’s just what old Sic’em thought, only he didn’t say so. He barked instead, and the hair on his back stood out straight like bristles on my tooth brush. Then he wagged his tail and barked harder than ever.
“I guess I’ve come on a wild goose chase,” said the Kind Farmer. “That old fox won’t come out, and I can’t wait here all day for we’re going to have hot muffins for supper.”
Then, with a whistle to Sic’em, he turned back to the farm.
Home again! The kitchen fire
Warms the kettle to a song.
Home again! And now forgotten
Everything that has gone wrong.
Comfort and a place for dreaming