As for the Great Red Fox, he waited until Cousin Greylegs was well away on his own business, then off he stepped along the road that led the other way, and it was the bag of gold and silver money he carried with him.
But that is not all of the story; for listen: There was a poor old blind mole who lived in the ground because he had nowhere else to go, and that was his home. But the Great Red Fox thought nothing of him. On he came—tramp! tramp! tramp!—and would have trodden right on the roof of the mole’s house. “Brother Fox,” cried Grandfather Mole, “look where you are treading, or you will have the roof down about my ears.”
“Pooh!” says the Great Red Fox, “when one has been sharp enough to trick such a keen blade as Cousin Greylegs, one is not going to step out of one’s way for a little gray mole as blind as charity:” and so he was for going straight ahead.
But up jumped Grandfather Mole and caught hold of him, and then he felt the bag of gold and silver money the Great Red Fox carried. “Hi!” says he, “and here is a new card in the game.” So he held on to the Great Red Fox and began to bawl with all his might and main, “Help, good folks! help! here is the Great Red Fox stealing my bag of gold and silver money!”
“Hush! hush!” said the Great Red Fox, for he was for having as little said about the bag of money as need be, “let me go and I will promise to tread on nobody’s house.” But no, it was easier to get into that hole than it was to get out again, for Grandfather Mole held on and bawled for help louder than ever. “Help! help! here is one robbing a poor blind mole of all he has in the world!” That was the way he kept up the song, and he made such a hubbub that the folks came running and hauled them both up before the Master Judge to see what he had to say about the business.
“The bag of money is mine,” said the Great Red Fox.
“Yes, good! but where did you get it?” says the judge, and that was a question easier asked than answered.
“See now,” says Grandfather Mole, “it is easy enough to talk, for breath is cheap in this town, but the thing is to put it to trial and find out who is telling the truth. We’ll build a fire and try who can stand it the longest, and that will show the right in this matter as clear as a morning in hay-season.”
Well, that suited the fox well enough, “for,” says he to himself, “it is a pretty business if I can’t stand a scorching as long as an old blind mole;” and so that business was settled.