“Oh, I might as well eat! I don’t believe that I’ll ever get out of here. I may as well make the best of it.”
So he ate and felt better. The hunter came and looked at Sharp Eyes.
“Ah, ha!” exclaimed the man, “you are eating, I see. I am glad of it. Now you will grow big, and your silver coat of fur will grow big on you and I can take it off and sell it. Get big and fat, little fox.”
Of course Sharp Eyes did not know what this meant, but he ate just the same, and felt better. Then he ran around his cage looking for some way of getting out, but there seemed none. The wooden and wire walls were as strong as ever.
So the days and nights passed. Often in the night, when the hunter was fast asleep, Sharp Eyes would call, in animal language, for some of the dwellers of the woods to come to him and help him get out.
“Help me to get loose!” the fox boy would softly whine. But none came near him who could help him. Not many wild animals, and no foxes, would come close to the clearing in which the hunter’s cabin stood.
Now and then a night bird, flying in the trees overhead, heard the call of Sharp Eyes, and asked him:
“What is the matter?”
“Oh, I want to get out of here!” would answer the fox. “Can’t you fly and tell my father or mother to get me out of this cage?”
“I’ll try,” the bird would promise, just as some of the friends of Chunky, the happy hippo, had promised to go to get Tum Tum, the elephant, to help him out of the pit trap. But Tum Tum could not be found then, nor could the birds find Mr. or Mrs. Fox. The father and mother of Sharp Eyes were deep in the North Woods.