Before he reached it, and while still in the woods, the fox heard a noise which sounded like:
“Cock-a-doodle-do!”
“Ha! I know what that is!” said Sharp Eyes. “That’s a rooster! The same sort of bird I once thought was a wild turkey. Well, I am pretty good at catching things now, and maybe I can catch that rooster. I’m going to try!”
Carefully, Sharp Eyes crept through the woods. The sound of the rooster’s crowing sounded louder now, and it seemed to stay in the same place.
“He doesn’t hear me coming, or see me or smell me,” thought Sharp Eyes. “Maybe I can get close enough up to him to grab him. But I must be careful of traps!”
On and on through the woods crept Sharp Eyes softly. He came to a little place where the trees had been cut down, and in the center of this clearing was what seemed to be a box. The crowing of the rooster came from inside this box.
“Oh, ho!” thought Sharp Eyes. “This is a henhouse—the same kind I went into down at that farm, and brought out a fat duck. There is a rooster in this little henhouse, and I’ll go in and get him. Then I’ll have a fine dinner!”
“Cock-a-doodle-do!” crowed the rooster.
“I’m coming to get you!” laughed Sharp Eyes to himself.
Nearer and nearer he went. He could look right in the box, now, and see the rooster. The crowing fowl did not come out.