After a while Sharp Eyes let the man put his hand through a hole in the wire, and the fox did not try to bite as he had done at first. Then, a little later, Sharp Eyes let the man pat him on the head, and the fox rather liked it.
“Hunters are not so bad as I thought,” said Sharp Eyes to himself. “This one doesn’t shoot me, anyhow.”
And even the hunter’s dog did not bark or growl at the fox as much as it had at first. The two never were very good friends, but they did not snap at one another as they had done during the first days after Sharp Eyes was brought to the cabin in the woods.
“I chased after you once,” said the hunter’s dog to Sharp Eyes.
“Yes, I know you did, Skip,” replied the fox, in animal language. “But Red Tail and I waded in a brook of water, and then you could not smell us to come after us.”
“Yes, you fooled me,” said the dog, with a sort of barking laugh. “I was mad at the time, but I’ve gotten over it now.”
“Would you chase me again if you had the chance?” asked Sharp Eyes.
“Yes, I guess I would,” answered the dog. “You see, I am used to hunting, and I can’t get over it so soon, even if you are a tamer fox than you were at first. If you get out of the cage I’ll have to bring you back, but I’ll try not to hurt you.”
“Then I guess I’d better be careful how I get out of this cage,” thought Sharp Eyes to himself. “I must not do it when Skip, the dog, is near. But I would like to get away.”