“Now I know who you are,” went on the fox. “I met Slicko, and we spoke of you, though I never expected to meet you. And who is this Chunky you talked of, and who saved your master’s little girl?”
“Chunky is a hippopotamus, or, as I call him for short, a hippo,” said Don. “He lived in a jungle in Africa for a long time and had lots of adventures. Then he was caught in a pit trap and brought to this country. He was in a circus, and I met him in the park menagerie. He knew Tum Tum, the jolly elephant, Mappo, the merry monkey, and other friends of mine. Chunky had a book written about him. I’ve had a book written about me, too!”
“So had Slicko,” said Sharp Eyes. “My! it seems quite fashionable to get in a book nowadays.”
“It is fashionable,” answered Don. “Almost as fashionable as your silver fur. That’s why you were trapped, I presume. Some hunter wants your fur.”
“I suppose so,” said Sharp Eyes sadly. “Oh, I wish I could get out of this trap!”
“Hark!” cried Don suddenly. “Don’t you hear something?”
“Yes, I do,” answered Sharp Eyes, listening. “But I can’t see anything, held fast as I am.”
“I’ll look,” offered Don, peeping out between two bushes. What he saw made him cry out in animal talk:
“Oh, it’s a man coming with a gun! I guess he’s coming to get you, Sharp Eyes! He must have set the trap.”
“Oh dear! what shall I do?” asked Sharp Eyes.