The Goat-father groaned. "Then it wouldn't be possible for you to take a message to my family?"
"Quite impossible, my dear friend, I assure you. Can't you find any crack in the shed where you could break through?"
"There's nothing," cried the Goat-father. "I've searched round and round, and the door is as strong and tight as a prison."
"Well, I'll go off and see if I can find a messenger," said the old Slave good-naturedly. "Perhaps the old fox would manage it."
"A fox! Oh, I don't think that would do," said the Heif-father. "It mightn't be safe for my family."
"Oh, he's all right," said the Slave. "He's been in captivity so long, it's taken all the spirit out of him. He might live in a farmyard. He's a good-natured creature, too, and I daresay he'll go to oblige me."
The Goat-father pulled a band and buckle off his necktie, and poked it under the door.
"Not to eat!" he whispered warningly, "but for the fox to take with him, that my wife may know the message comes from me; and be quick about it, my good friend, for I really am positively starving!"
"All right," said the old Goat, "I'll send the fox off, and come back in a few minutes to bring you some stale cabbage leaves."
"A friend in need, is a friend indeed!" murmured the Goat-father; and went to sleep that night with more hope than he had felt since the moment of his capture.