Sharp Eyes presently caught a fat duck that had swum too far down the brook, away from the farm, and, slinging her across his back, off to the hollow log he trotted.
And later that day, when Sharp Eyes was telling his friend, Red Tail, about catching the duck, Sharp Eyes said:
“I think I am getting to be a pretty good hunter, don’t you?”
“Yes, you are,” said Red Tail. “But you had better look out.”
“You said that the other day,” went on Sharp Eyes. “What do you mean? Do you mean I’d better look out for Slicko, the squirrel?”
“Oh, no,” answered Red Tail. “But did you ever stop to think that your coat of fur is different from those that most of us wear?”
“Why, no, I never took much notice,” said Sharp Eyes, as he looked at himself as well as he could. “What’s the matter with my fur?”
“Nothing, except that it is very beautiful,” said Red Tail. “Now you are going to hear something that may scare you. Though you may not know it, you are a silver fox.”
“What’s that?” asked Sharp Eyes.
“It means your fur is the color of silver,” went on Red Tail. “That color is very scarce, and hunters like to get a silver fox more than any other. That means they’ll hunt you out, and try to catch you rather than any of us, for our fur is common. But yours is silver shade, and can be sold for a lot of money. So you want to look out.”