Off went the little fox boy on another hunt. He looked all around, and listened and smelled, and at last he saw something moving along the ground.
“Ha! Maybe that is another rooster or a turkey,” thought Sharp Eyes. “I’ll get that for dinner.”
Softly, softly he crept up toward the animal on the ground. Sharp Eyes could now see it was an animal, and not a bird, and at first he thought it was an extra large wood mouse. For the animal was of the same color, a light gray. But when Sharp Eyes saw the big, curving bushy tail of the creature he said:
“Ha! I know him. It is a gray squirrel! Well, they are as good as a rooster or a wild turkey, though not as large. I’ll get him!”
Sharp Eyes crept toward the gray squirrel, but, just as the fox was going to jump on it, something happened.
With a chatter of his teeth and a frisk of his tail the squirrel sprang up into a tree, and from there, safely out of reach, sitting on a limb, with his tail curled up along his back the squirrel looked at Sharp Eyes.
“Ha! You thought you’d get me! didn’t you?” chattered the squirrel.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not so very hungry,” drawled Sharp Eyes, pretending he hadn’t been fooled when the squirrel jumped away.
“Oh, yes you did! You tried to get me, but I was too quick for you—I got away!” laughed and chattered the squirrel. “What’s your name, little fox boy?”