Then the animal men wheeled the cage with the fox in it away.
“Say,” said one of the men to the others, “that silver fox didn’t give us any trouble.”
“No,” was the answer. “I thought sure we’d have to chase him all over the grounds, but he was as quiet as could be. I guess he isn’t as wild as we imagined.”
And Sharp Eyes was not. The kindness of the hunter who bought him from the boy was beginning to tell. The silver fox knew that not all men were unkind. Some, such as those in the zoo, and the camera man, were good to wild animals.
For the first few days Sharp Eyes was kept by himself in the small cage into which he had been put when the first one broke. Nor was he allowed to stay near the other animals. He was put by himself in a dark corner of an animal house.
“You’ll be quieter there, and will get to feeling at home,” said one of the park animal keepers. “When you quiet down a bit we’ll put you in with the other foxes, for we have a lot of red and black ones in the park.”
Of course Sharp Eyes did not know just what the man was saying, but it sounded kind, and kind and gentle tones to wild animals mean more than just what the words themselves express.
Sharp Eyes did not like to be left alone, but he could not help himself. He was given plenty to eat and to drink, but he did not think the zoo a nice place. He was too lonesome in it.
Then came a day when he was taken from the traveling cage and placed in a den with other foxes. Here he thought he would have a good time, but when the red, brown and black foxes saw him in his fine silver coat they sort of turned up their noses, and one said: