“Did de fox eat my wed ball?” Trouble wanted to know.
“I guess not,” answered Uncle Ben. “I’ll feel around down there and see if I can get it. I’ll hurry though. There are three or four little foxes in there, and the father and mother fox may come back at any moment, and as they can bite pretty hard when they try, I don’t want my hand in the hole then, even with a glove on. I put it on because I thought there were foxes in the hole, and I guessed right.”
Uncle Ben gave Mrs. Martin the baby fox to hold in her lap while he put his hand down in the hole again. The tiny animal did not seem afraid now, and it did not try to bite. The five children stroked its soft pretty fur gently.
“Here’s your rubber ball, Trouble,” said Uncle Ben at last, as he pulled his arm out of the fox hole for the second time.
“Are the little foxes there yet?” asked Tom.
“No, they seem to have gone farther back in the den,” answered the sailor. “And I guess we’d better put this one back with his brothers and sisters, so he’ll be there when his father and mother come back.”
After the children had given a last look at the little wild animal, Uncle Ben put it down at the mouth of the hole, and in the tiny chap scampered, probably very glad to be at home again. Then with Trouble holding tightly to his red ball, the picnic party went down to the boat, talking on the way of the fine time they had had.
“It was a regular adventure!” exclaimed Tom.
“It surely was,” agreed Ted. “I’m coming back next week and get a fox.”
“So’m I,” cried all the other children.