“That’s what he is!” answered Tom, a bit proudly. At the same time the dog jumped up, and, sniffing at the box-trap, began to bark. Poor Sharp Eyes was much frightened, and scrambled around in his cage, trying hard to get out. But he could not.
“Be quiet, Skip!” called the hunter to his dog. “You won’t have to chase this fox. He is safely caught. What are you going to do with him?” the hunter asked Tom.
“Sell his fur. I’ve heard that silver fox skins bring a big price down in the city.”
“That’s right, they do,” said the hunter. “Let me take a look at this one.”
Tom opened a little slide in the top of the trap. It was not large enough for Sharp Eyes to jump out of, but it gave a good view of him. The hunter looked down at the fox. He saw that one paw had been hurt and was only just healed.
“Well, I do declare!” exclaimed the hunter. “I believe that is the same silver fox that got out of my trap, Tom. You are very lucky. A silver fox skin is valuable. But you will not get much for this one.”
“Why not?” asked Tom.
“Because it is too small. You will have to wait for the fox to grow. Then his skin will be worth twice as much. But if you don’t want to wait, Tom, I’ll buy this fox from you alive, and I’ll keep him until he is big. Then I can sell the skin.”
Tom thought about it. He wanted money now, and did not like to have to wait, perhaps a year, for Sharp Eyes to grow.
“Yes,” said Tom to the man, “I’ll sell you this silver fox.”