Little two-year-old Caddie was as much excited as the rest; she cried:—
“Take my hand, papa! Little piggies shall not bite you!”
“Little piggies,” indeed! Little foxes they were; and nine of the cunning creatures. Only think!
The manager of the farm said that something had been killing his lambs, and he had been on the watch to find out the rascal.
One day, when he was out with his gun, he saw something moving near an old woodchuck hole; at least, there had been woodchucks there the year before.
He went nearer, expecting to see a woodchuck again; but there were these little foxes playing around. The woodchucks must have burrowed out, and an old fox taken possession of their hole for a den.
Mr. Nash lay down on the ground to count the funny little things, and watch them tumbling over each other. Then he tried to stop up the entrance to their den with his coat, so that he could catch them. But a tree root lay across the hole in such a way that there was a place left big enough for the little foxes to get in; and in they went.
Then Mr. Nash went and called a man to help him. They took spades and dug into the hole until they found them.