“Me want my wed ball!” cried Trouble.
Uncle Ben looked at the hole. Then he took the stick which had been left beside it and poked it down. Suddenly, just as had happened when the boys and Mrs. Martin did this, there was a growl, followed by a tiny bark.
“Oh, ho! I know what that is!” said Uncle Ben.
From his pocket he took a heavy leather glove that he used when he worked around the motor in the gasolene boat. Drawing this glove on his hand, the old sailor stretched out on the ground, and thrust his hand and arm into the hole as far as it would go. Then he seemed to be feeling around, down inside, and a moment later he pulled something out of the hole.
“Is it my wed ball?” asked Trouble.
“It’s a baby dog!” cried Janet, as she caught sight of something alive and wiggling in Uncle Ben’s gloved hand.
“No, it’s a little baby fox,” said Uncle Ben. “That’s what the growlery hole is, children—the den of a fox. But the big foxes are out now, hunting chickens, perhaps. Only the little ones are at home. This is one of them.”
He held out a little animal with a sharp nose, a rather large tail, and very bright eyes for the children to see. The baby fox tried to get away, but Uncle Ben held it firmly though gently.
“Could we take it home with us?” asked Ted eagerly.
“I’m afraid it’s too small to be taken away from the mother fox,” answered Uncle Ben. “Later on, perhaps, we can come back and get one of the little foxes when they are bigger. I once knew a boy who had a tame fox for a pet. But after a while it began to steal chickens from the neighbors’ coops, so the boy had to let his fox go.”