You won’t have time to even shout!”
whispered Billy Breeze to all the little people of the Shady Forest and the Sunny Meadow. He didn’t exactly whisper it, you know. He did it in a better way, a way by which no one heard a word. He carried the smell of the wicked old fox to the nose of every little animal. Yes, sir, that’s how Billy Breeze whispers bad news!
“I’m glad I’m safe at home,” thought the little bunny, as he opened the little gate in the white picket fence around the dear Old Bramble Patch.
“Dear, oh, dear!” sighed Mrs. Grouse, hiding her brood under her wings amid the brown underbrush.
“Goodness gracious!” cackled little Henny Jenny, “I’m glad Old Sic’em, the farmer’s dog, is around. I hope the Farmer’s Boy won’t whistle to him.”
“Heigh, ho!” yawned Mrs. Cow, with a shake of her head, making the little bell on her collar ting-a-ling. “So old Danny Fox is out hunting!”
Then the motherly lady cow walked over to rub her nose against the silky ear of her long-legged little calf. “But you needn’t be afraid of that old robber. He eats only little defenseless bunnies and chickens. He’s no real hunter. Oh, my, no! He’s only a sneak thief.”
“What’s that you’re saying about me?” asked a voice, all of a sudden, quick as a lightning bug or a tornado.
There stood Danny Fox himself, close by the Old Rail Fence.
“Moo-oo! Moo-oo!” answered Mrs. Cow, lowering her head till her horns pointed right at his head.