Half-Past Seven Stories | Page 5

The very thing! It was almost more than he could
manage, that rock, but he pulled and he tugged, and he tugged and he
pulled, 'til he had it safe on the crate-cover over the hole--and Reddy
was saved!
It was just in time, too, for the dogs had come barking and yelping and
bellowing, and now all they could do was to sniff, sniff, sniff around
that hole.
Then over the fence into the barnyard jumped the horses; and
Marmaduke came running up; and the Toyman rushed over from the
field; and Father came out of the barn; and Mother flew out of the
house; and Rover and Brownie and Wienerwurst raced from the pond,
each one to see what all the hullabaloo was about.
What they did see was the two boys standing guard in front of the hole
to protect little Reddy, and the big hunter dogs jumping up on them
with their paws and growling most terribly. It was a wonder that the
boys weren't frightened enough to run away, but they didn't. They just
stood their ground. Still, they were glad enough to see Father and the
Toyman close by.
And now one of the men in redcoats had dismounted from his horse,
and Marmaduke called to him,--
"You shan't touch Reddy, you _shan't_!"
He was half crying, too, not for himself, but for Reddy.
The man was taking off his cap. He was very polite, and he bowed to
Mother.
"We'll pay for all damages, Madam, but let us have the brush."
The boys thought that was funny, calling their mother "madam," when
everybody in the neighborhood called her "Mis' Green." And what did
he want a brush for? To brush his fine cap and red coat or his shiny
boots? Or to wipe up Reddy out of his hole? However, the Toyman was

whispering:
"He means Reddy's tail. That's what hunters call the brush."
When Marmaduke heard that, he grabbed tight hold of the Toyman's
hand on one side and of his father's on the other, and shouted:
_"Don't let them get Reddy!"_
But Father was talking to the man. He called him "Mr.
Seymour-Frelinghuysen," and both the boys wondered if all people
with fine horses and shiny boots and red coats had to have long,
funny-sounding names like that.
"It's all right about the damages, Mr. Seymour-Frelinghuysen," Father
was saying, "but I guess we won't give up the fox today."
And Father smiled down at Marmaduke, and oh, wasn't that little boy
relieved and happy, and his brother, too! As for the Toyman, he had a
funny twinkle in his eyes.
Of course, there was a lot of grumbling on the part of the redcoats, and
a lot of barking and growling from the big hunter dogs, but the men had
to get on their horses and call off their dogs and ride away.
"I guess they knew they were in the wrong," said Jehosophat, after they
had tied up Rover and Brownie and Wienerwurst, and taken the stone
and board away from Reddy's hole.
Then they looked in the hole-but no Reddy!
Meanwhile the Toyman had gone into the barn.
"Come here!" he shouted.
So they ran in, and there, in the corner, hidden under the hay was
Reddy, all muddy from the brook and torn from the briars. His eyes
looked very bright, but they looked pitiful too.

The Toyman put out his hand and stroked his fur. At first Reddy
showed his teeth and snapped at the Toyman just like a baby wolf. But
that hand came towards him so quietly, and the voice sounded so gentle,
that Reddy lay still. You see, the Toyman somehow understood how to
treat foxes and all kinds of animals just as well as he did boys, little or
big.
"What _doesn't_ that man know?" Mother had said once, and right she
was, too.
It took some time to train Reddy, for, although he was very small, he
was very wild. However, the Toyman managed to tame him. Perhaps it
was because the Little Lost Fox was wounded and sore and hurt all
over. Anyway, he seemed to appreciate what the Toyman did for him,
for all he was a little wild child of the fields and the forests.
They built him a house, all for himself, and a fence of wire. It was great
fun to see him poking his sharp nose through the holes and stepping
around so daintily on his pretty little feet.
He always had such a wise look. In fact, he was too wise altogether, for
one day he was gone, through some little hole he had dug under his
fence.--And they never saw him again--at least, they haven't to this day.
At first the three children felt very sad