Now up in the loft where the two rogues lay was a cowhide, which the landlord used for making straps and thongs and such like things. What does the Great Red Fox do but whip out his needle and thread and sew the cowhide fast to Cousin Greylegs’ Jacket, though Cousin Greylegs knew no more of that than a mouse in a barrel. Then by and by the Great Red Fox was up to another of his tricks. “See,” says he, “here I have a pocketful of hazel-nuts, and I am for cracking one.”
“Tut, tut, brother,” says Cousin Greylegs, “you must crack no nuts here.”
“But I must crack a nut,” says the Great Red Fox.
“But you must not,” says Cousin Greylegs.
“But I must,” says the Great Red Fox, and so he did.
“Hark!” says the landlord; “yonder is somebody up in the loft cracking the nuts that we were to have had for supper; it is a good beating he shall have for the trick he has been playing upon us.”
When Cousin Greylegs heard this he did not stop to tarry or to think; down he jumped from the loft, and away he scampered as fast as he could lay foot to the ground; but with him went the cowhide which the Great Red Fox had sewed fast to his jacket.
“Hi!” bawled the landlord, “there is the thief who stole our supper, and he is taking my cowhide into the bargain.”
Off they all scampered after Cousin Greylegs and the cowhide. The corn-factor first of all.