Little Foxes by Michael Morpurgo

Author:Michael Morpurgo [Morpurgo, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Egmont
Published: 2011-09-17T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

AS THE DAY WORE ON, THE SUN BEAT relentlessly down on their backs. Billy was glad of it, for it dried his soaking clothes as he walked; but with only stream water inside them both boy and fox began to weaken. As he tired, Billy began to take more risks, and in his anxiety to get as far as possible from the city before nightfall he became careless. Where before he had kept close to the edges of fields, hugging the hedgerows, now he would take the shortest route, walking openly out across fields where they might be seen from the farmhouses. He knew well enough that they were more exposed to discovery on the roads than anywhere else. Until now he had been scrupulously careful to ensure there was no one about, no traffic approaching, before crossing; and he had always picked up the fox and carried him across. But when in the late afternoon they came to a narrow, winding lane he did not even bother to pick up the fox and gave only a cursory glance down the lane. He was about half-way across, and whistling for the fox to follow him, when the little girl on the bicycle came round the bend fast. She skidded to a halt on the gravelly road, using her feet for brakes.

‘Didn’t see you,’ she said. ‘Haven’t got no brakes – busted.’ As she spoke, the fox walked nonchalantly out across the road towards Billy, belatedly obeying his call. ‘Hey, isn’t that a fox?’ she said.

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Billy.

‘He is,’ she said. ‘I seen ’em in books, and my dad shot one once when it came around the fowls. ’S a fox, that is, ’s a fox.’

‘Just looks like a fox,’ said Billy. ‘’T’isn’t really.’ The girl, he thought, was a little younger than he was, with long blond pigtails and an open smiling face, the kind, Billy thought, that would talk a lot. He would have to be convincing. ‘Looks like a fox, I know,’ he said. ‘Everyone says so, but it’s just a funny kind of sheepdog – still a puppy he is really. I mean you’ve never heard of a fox you could stroke, have you? I mean they’re wild animals, foxes are. Like wolves they are, sort of, take your hand off they would, give ’em half a chance.’ And he crouched down and stroked the fox’s neck, burying his fingers in the soft fur. ‘Good dog,’ he said. ‘Good dog. See? Quiet as a mouse, he is. No need to be frightened of him. He won’t hurt you. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you, boy? Come on, you have a go.’ The girl stepped off her bike and laid it down in the middle of the road.

‘You sure he’s all right?’ she said, approaching nervously. The fox sat quite still, looking up at Billy for reassurance. Billy felt his whole body stiffen as the girl touched him, and when his ears went back on

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