“And yet they can find where wild creatures live,” Johnny agreed.
Just now, as you no doubt have guessed, the boys were looking for the spot, under some great rock or at the foot of a tree, which the silver fox called his home.
“We must find him,” Johnny had exclaimed only an hour before.
“We surely must,” Lawrence had agreed.
And indeed they must, for three principal reasons. Last night the fox had, by shrewd cunning, managed to pry the chicken coop door open and made off with a rooster. The fox was worth a lot of money—they were sure of this—dead or alive. They must get him before someone with a gun or with traps got sight of him. And they must take him alive, if possible—a very large contract.
Their desires had been redoubled by something that had happened only the night before. Mack Gleason, the settler whose claim joined them on the west, had been in for a friendly chat.
“Got your tractor yet?” he had asked of Mr. Lawson.
“Not yet,” had been the reply.
“Well, you better hurry. They’re going fast. May not be another shipment until it is too late for spring’s work.”
“No money just now.”