by Colin Dann
Fox had just finished distributing the last quantity of earth over the floor. ‘Down you go, my little friends!’ he called to the youngsters, who descended into the tunnel under the care of the voles and fieldmice.
Toad, Tawny Owl and Kestrel went close on their heels, the birds half fluttering and half walking along the tunnel.
Fox glanced towards Adder. ‘Can you hold on just long enough for us to get clear?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ replied Adder. ‘We must all play our part.’
‘We won’t forget this,’ Fox assured him. ‘We’ll wait for you as soon as we reach a safe spot. I’ll send Kestrel back to show you the way.’
‘You’d better get going,’ Adder hissed. ‘I can see the farmer on his way back.’
Fox called a final farewell and leapt into the tunnel.
13
Pursued
Now left entirely alone, Adder prepared himself for escape. He stretched his full length tight against the wall, so as to be as inconspicuous as possible. As soon as the farmer and his dog entered the building, he would slip through the crack while their backs were turned.
He could still watch the approach of the farmer towards the shed, but now all he could see were his boots trudging ominously forward. He heard Griggs call to the bull-mastiff; then the footsteps stopped, and the door was swung back.
The dog bounded inside, barking furiously. Then, seeing that the shed was empty, it began to run round, nose to the floor, whining in frustration.
‘What the devil . . .!’ was the unfinished exclamation from the farmer as he stepped into the shed, his gun half raised to his shoulder. He stood staring in disbelief at the earth spread evenly over the floor, and the neat hole in the floorboards.
Behind him, Adder slithered under the open door and out on to the path, making as fast a pace as he could manage towards the nearest long grass. He could hear the commotion in the store-shed, as the cheated farmer cursed and shouted angrily at his dog. The shouting was followed by a loud yelp, which, Adder decided, was the result of a well-aimed kick from the farmer.
He reached a patch of cover adjacent to the orchard, and hid himself in some wet twigs and leaves amongst a clump of couch-grass. Here he intended to stay until he judged it was safe to proceed further.
The farmer came out of the shed like a bolt from a gun, his miserable dog slinking at his heels, its tail held low. He went straight to the orchard, where he fell to scanning the grassy ground. His eyes soon picked out what he was searching for – the exit hole of the animals’ tunnel. With an angry snarl, the farmer directed the muzzle of his shotgun down into the hole, and fired both barrels. Some clods of earth flew upwards, followed by a thin wisp of smoke.
‘That’ll teach ’em!’ growled Tom Griggs, and he stumped off, frowning hideously, back to the cottage where his wife was waiting at the door.
The bull-mastiff continued to skulk around the hole as if it did not intend to be fooled twice.
Adder, in his temporary hideout, wondered how far away his friends were. He knew that they would have put as much distance behind them as they were able, before they rested.
Through the network of twigs and grass-stems in front of his red eyes, Adder saw the bull-mastiff suddenly turn its head from the tunnel and put its muzzle to the ground. It sniffed vigorously over the grass, and having picked up a scent, followed it closely under the trees of the orchard. Adder was sure the dog was now on the trail of Fox and his party.
The bull-mastiff increased its pace, and barked excitedly. It was a deep, throaty bark; a fearsome noise.
Adder decided the coast was clear, and slithered into the open. He wound his way to the next piece of cover, an isolated patch of stinging-nettles, where he paused to consider what he should do next.
After some serious contemplation he decided there was really very little he could do, except wait for Kestrel. He had no idea in which direction his companions had gone, and there was no way in which he could warn them that they were being pursued. In any case, the dog was making enough noise to wake the dead. They would have plenty of time to get out of its way. Having reassured himself on that point, Adder settled down patiently for a long wait.
It had taken a matter of only a couple of minutes for Fox to race through the tunnel, clamber up the exit shaft, and prepare the waiting animals for immediate flight. It needed only a short consultation with Toad before they decided on their direction.
On Toad’s advice Fox led them out of the bounds of the farmer’s land, on to a footpath that wound its way past several neighbouring farmsteads and orchards, on to a stretch of open common land, where it then led sharply uphill.
‘Are you quite sure this is the right way?’ Fox asked, as they rested for a minute amongst some shrubbery at the foot of the rise.
‘Oh yes,’ declared Toad. ‘I recognize all this. Of course, it took me an age on my own to cover the same ground.’
‘I don’t much like the look of what’s ahead,’ Fox admitted. ‘We can be seen far too clearly, for my liking, as we climb that hill.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Toad answered. ‘It’s a very stony, uneven path. Humans don’t use it much. I would guess. In any case, the sensible ones are still indoors after that storm.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ said Fox. ‘What’s on the other side of the hill?’
‘The path drops steeply down to a sort of copse. Beyond that there are more farm dwellings and fields. When we’ve got those behind us, there are green meadows ahead, as thick and lush as you’ve ever seen. They will lead us to the river.’
‘Can we reach the copse today?’ Fox asked briskly.
‘Oh, it’s not too far,’ Toad assured him. ‘We’ll be quite safe in there. Nothing but a few rooks to bother about.’
Fox looked round at his friends, most of whom were too tired and hungry to talk. ‘One last effort now and we’ll soon be able to rest and eat at our leisure,’ Fox promised them. ‘Can you do it?’
All the animals nodded, some more wearily than others.
Fox took the lead as they moved up the hill at walking pace. As they climbed, rain began to fall again. But this time it was gentler; there was no fury in it, and it refreshed them.
Wearily they plodded on. Tawny Owl and Kestrel flew to the brow of the hill and called back encouragement to their struggling companions.
‘You can see the river from up here,’ Tawny Owl cried. ‘It looks just like a tiny stream in the distance.’
‘You’re nearly up,’ Kestrel called. ‘Keep going.’
When they were about halfway up, Fox suddenly stopped. ‘Did you hear anything?’ he asked Badger, who was behind him.
‘No,’ said Badger.
‘Keep going! Keep going!’ Kestrel shrieked. His hawk’s eyes had picked out an ominous shape way back on the footpath. ‘Don’t stop now!’ he cried. ‘Make haste!’
Fox knew now that he had not been mistaken. A faint bark came to him from the distance. ‘It’s the farmer’s dog,’ he said to Badger. ‘We must hurry.’
Standing to one side Fox egged on the other animals to fresh exertions. Eventually they all passed him, and he was left watching their ascent anxiously.
‘Badger, I must entrust you with the party again,’ he called after him. ‘You get them to the copse. I’ll try and delay this customer.’
He added in a lower voice, ‘Well, Toad, I’m afraid you’ll have to make your own way for a bit. I’ll join you as soon as I can.’
‘Of course, I understand,’ Toad replied, and instantly leapt to the ground from Fox’s back, and hopped after the main party as quickly as he could. ‘Look out for yourself !’ he called back over his shoulder.
The bull-mastiff was just beginning to climb the slope, so Fox descended part of the way to meet it. Needing all its breath for running uphill, the dog had at last ceased to bark.
‘Here I am!’ Fox shouted down, standing his ground. ‘I’m the character you’re after! You can ignore the oth
ers!’ He glanced quickly behind him to see how his friends were progressing. They were about three-quarters of the distance up the rise.
‘Yes, it is you,’ gasped the dog, looking up towards the small chestnut figure. ‘You’re . . . the . . . culprit. My master . . . wants you . . . dead.’
‘Your master wants every fox dead,’ came the reply. ‘I could see the hatred in his eyes when he saw me in the shed.’
The bull-mastiff paused, a few yards from Fox. ‘He wants you,’ the dog replied. ‘You killed his chickens. He wants his revenge.’
‘He’s got the wrong animal,’ Fox said calmly. ‘I never killed a chicken in my life. They don’t suit my tastes at all – too many feathers.’
‘A likely story,’ growled the guard dog. ‘Strange isn’t it, that you should be found lurking just round the corner from the chicken-coop?’
‘You may call it strange,’ said Fox. ‘I was not lurking, as you suggested. I and my friends merely entered the shed to shelter from the storm – and were shut in.’
‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ the bull-mastiff said savagely. ‘Oh, I know you foxes are all supposed to be very cunning and clever. But you don’t fool me. I’m taking you back. Then perhaps I’ll get some thanks, for once, from my master.’
It advanced a step towards Fox, warily.
‘I’m afraid you’ll find you’re mistaken, if that’s what you’re expecting,’ Fox said evenly.
‘What do you mean?’ growled the dog, hesitating a fraction.
‘Your master doesn’t want you to obtain his revenge for him. He, and only he, wants that satisfaction. Nothing else will do. Believe me, I know all about human feelings.’ Fox shrugged. ‘You domesticated creatures are blinded by humans’ generosity. They feed you, groom you, give you a home. You don’t notice their faults. Now we wild animals are different. We observe human ways from a distance, and we understand them better. Animals, and their needs, are of little consideration when they conflict with their own. That’s always been the way of it, and it won’t alter. So I say again, you’ll get no thanks from your master for killing me.’
The bull-mastiff seemed to waver. With less confidence in its gruff voice it said, ‘Then I’ll take you back alive.’
‘That’s quite impossible,’ Fox replied at once. ‘I’m no match for your size and strength, but if you want to take me back, you’ll have to kill me first.’
‘Confound your clever talk!’ the bull-mastiff swore. ‘My master blamed me for not catching the fox that killed his chickens. Now I have caught a fox, it seems he won’t want it.’
‘You should have caught the right fox,’ said Fox smoothly. ‘I’ve got nothing against you,’ he went on. ‘Every creature to its training. But whatever killed those chickens was clever enough to elude you. It won’t help you now to kill the wrong animal.’
With wonderfully contrived coolness, Fox turned on his heel and walked off up the slope after his friends, who had now disappeared over the brow of the hill.
He steeled himself to continue at a sauntering pace, knowing full well that this show of confidence would convince the bull-mastiff once and for all that it had made an error.
At the top, Fox found Toad waiting for him. Only then did he permit himself to look back. The bull-mastiff was standing, with a baffled expression on its once fierce face, looking up the slope towards Fox. It had not moved one inch forward. As it saw Fox turn, it slunk away, back the way it had come.
Toad was unable to contain his excitement. ‘Fox, you were superb!’ he exclaimed. ‘I heard everything. It was magnificent. Wait till I tell the others about it. Such coolness and poise. Well, you certainly browbeat him!’
‘When you live by your wits and senses, as we wild creatures do,’ said Fox, ‘it’s not so difficult to win an argument with one of his sort.’ He smiled. ‘Now, come on. Up you get, my friend. We must catch the others up. It’s a long time since we ate, and I bet there are all sorts of good things to be found in that copse.’
14
The copse
Badger and the rest of the party made much of Fox when he and Toad caught them up. The respect and admiration which they already felt for their leader was now heightened by his latest success.
Dusk was falling as they entered the copse. Rooks were circling the tree-tops, cawing noisily in their evening ritual, before settling one by one, on their nests for the night.
The immediate objective of the animals was to satisfy their gnawing hunger, and, after establishing their camp amongst some elm shrubbery, they set off on their separate forays.
The squirrels were so overjoyed to find tall trees which they could run up and down, that their quest for food was temporarily suspended as they chased one another up the trunks and along the branches. The sleepy rooks cackled irritably.
When the animals had all found and eaten as much as they needed, they made their way directly back to the camp. Fox called a council of the leaders of each group, and they decided unanimously to remain in the copse for some days, to rest and build up their strength. After the danger and hardship which they had encountered in the last few days, when they had run from one crisis to the next, all the animals agreed that they had found the ideal haven of safety for the time being. Here they could comfortably prepare themselves for the many hazards that lay in their oncoming travels.
‘What are you going to do about Adder?’ asked Weasel.
‘Adder!’ Fox exclaimed. ‘Good heavens, we’ve forgotten him! Whatever will he be thinking of us!’
‘Leave it to me,’ volunteered Tawny Owl. ‘It’s pitch black now. I’ll fly back to the farm and find him. Don’t worry.’
He flew off through the trees and into the open country.
‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ Badger said to the downcast Fox. ‘You’ve had a lot on your mind.’
‘But I promised him,’ Fox said miserably. ‘He depended on me.’
‘It’s much safer for Adder to travel at night. The two of them will be far less noticeable,’ Weasel said comfortingly. ‘Tawny Owl will get him here by the morning. You’ll see.’
All afternoon Adder lay hidden amongst the thick stinging-nettles, wondering, while he felt comparatively safe himself, about the safety of his friends.
He watched the farmer’s bull-mastiff race away on their trail, bellowing horribly. The dog’s barks had gradually dwindled into the distance, and Adder was left wondering what the fate of Fox, Badger and the others would be.
He would not admit to himself that he was worried, but he found it difficult to maintain his chosen character of an uncommitted, unfeeling individual. He felt decidedly uneasy. This feeling grew as the time wore on; in fact until the time he saw the bull-mastiff return.
There was something so altered in the manner of the dog, as it slunk through the long grass of the orchard on its way to its kennel, that Adder guessed at once that it had been bested in some way by his friends.
His feeling changed to one of mild excitement, and he felt sure he could soon expect the arrival of Kestrel.
The rain stopped again, but the sky remained cloudy, and soon it was dusk. Adder began to hope Kestrel would not be long in arriving; otherwise, if it grew too dark, they would certainly miss one another.
But Adder was still alone when night fell. He decided it was pointless to remain any longer under cover in the darkness, and he sallied forth to search for food.
He kept well away from the bull-mastiff’s kennel, and slithered round the other side of Farmer Griggs’s cottage, keeping close to the wall. There was an old water-butt at one corner, and next to that an ancient vegetable box, full of potato peelings and other scraps. Here Adder was fortunate enough to catch himself some supper in the shape of a rat, which had been looking for its own supper amongst the kitchen leavings.
He decided to eat his meal in comfort, away from the human dwelling where there would be no fear of being disturbed. So, with the rat clutched firmly between his jaws, Adder made his way back to
the patch of stinging-nettles.
In the middle of his meal, he was interrupted by a familiar hooting sound. So Tawny Owl had come for him! He made haste to reach the orchard where Tawny Owl was flitting to and fro like a huge bat, calling him softly in his flute-toned voice.
The bird’s powerful eyes soon discovered Adder signalling him from the grass.
‘Glad to see you, Adder,’ said Tawny Owl.
‘Likewise,’ drawled Adder. ‘What kept you?’
Tawny Owl related all that had happened.
‘I’m just finishing my supper,’ said Adder afterwards. ‘Have you eaten yet?’
‘Only lightly,’ Tawny Owl replied.
‘Will you join me?’
‘With great pleasure.’
They both repaired eagerly to the stinging-nettles, and made short work of what was left of Adder’s meal.
‘I’ll catch you another,’ said Tawny Owl, ‘and we’ll share it out. One good turn, you know . . .’
Adder described where he had made his catch, and Tawny Owl flew away.
He was not long in returning with a second rat, and Adder complimented him on his prowess as a night hunter. They set to together, and devoured their additional snack in companionable silence.
‘Now I think we should get under way,’ said Tawny Owl. ‘It’s going to be a fairly long haul for you, Adder. I’ll swap some hunting yarns with you as we go.’
In the early hours of the following morning, just before daybreak, Adder and Tawny Owl paused on the crest of the hill, before their descent towards the copse. Tawny Owl took the opportunity of relating to Adder how Fox had triumphed, by persuasion, over the fierce farm dog.
Adder enjoyed the tale. ‘Yes,’ he said afterwards, ‘he’s a clever chap, that Fox. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he sees us safely through after all.’
Tawny Owl, whose wisdom even Fox admired, was a little envious of the praises heaped on his friend, considering that he himself had played a leading part in the animals’ escape from the farm by his suggestion of digging.
