So Sharp Eyes ran, and Don ran with him, the fox limping on three legs. The fox and the dog dodged in and out among the bushes and trees of the woods, for they did not want the hunter to see them.
“There, I guess we are far enough away now,” said Don, after a bit. “Do you know your way home, Sharp Eyes?”
“Oh, yes, thank you! Now that I am out of the trap I can easily find it. Won’t you come home with me?”
“No, I guess not. I’m looking for adventures. Besides, if I went home with you, I might scare your folks. They don’t like dogs. But I’m not the hunting kind.”
“Then I’m sure they’d like you,” said Sharp Eyes.
“Well, maybe some other time I’ll come to see you. Trot along home now and look out for traps,” barked Don.
“I will,” promised Sharp Eyes, as he limped along on three legs. The one he had pulled from the trap hurt him very much, and was bleeding a little.
“But I’m glad I’m loose, anyhow,” thought Sharp Eyes. “No more traps for me!”
But you just wait and see what happened to him next.