had disappeared as though the ground had opened and swallowed him, the farmer laughed loudly. "I guess you were dreaming, Bud. You were not quite awake."
"Oh, get out, Dad. I wasn't. Didn't you hear the dogs barking?"
Mr. Holcome laughed again. "All right, Bud. There were half a dozen foxes if you want it so. I guess we had better get at the milking."
"There isn't any joke about that."
About ten o'clock that night, when everyone at the farmhouse was soundly sleeping, a wet bedraggled fox, carrying a wet bedraggled rooster, crawled out from under a small culvert, in the ditch, and after shaking both himself, and the wet rooster, started for the mountain.
This culvert in the ditch was a place where the hay wagon crossed in summer time when the farmers were haying. The three planks that formed the bridge, were only about a foot from the water. There was just room enough for Redcoat to squeeze in under the plank and hide until the danger was passed.
