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 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.