Mr. Fox seemed to think for a minute.
“Yes,” he answered, “I guess it will be a good thing for you to come along. My eyes are getting old, and are not as good as they once were. Yours are young and bright. You may see something I can’t. Come with me, Sharp Eyes.”
“And us?”
“Well— Well, no, Twinkle and Winkle. This isn’t a lesson in hunting. I think, if I take only Sharp Eyes along, we’ll be able to get something to eat sooner.”
So Sharp Eyes went hunting with his father, while Mrs. Fox remained at home in the hollow log with Twinkle and Winkle.
“I hope we’ll see another wild turkey,” said Sharp Eyes, as he trotted along beside his father across the meadow.
“Don’t expect such good luck,” answered the older fox. “If we get a couple of wood mice, or perhaps a little duck that has paddled off down stream away from the others, I shall be glad.”
So to the woods they went, looking for mice which live in hollow stumps or in the ground under the roots of trees. But all the mice seemed to be away that day. Not one could Sharp Eyes or his father see.
“Now we’ll go to the brook,” said the old fox. “Sometimes there are little ducks there, who know no better than to swim too far from the big ones, that, if I jump in among them, can make a loud quacking noise and bring the farmer with his gun. Maybe we can steal up on a little duck.”