Mr. Tebrick now could follow after them anywhere and keep up with them too, and could go through a wood as silently as a deer.  He learnt to conceal himself if ever a labourer passed by so that he was rarely seen, and never but once in their company.  But what was most strange of all, he had got a way of going doubled up, often almost on all fours with his hands touching the ground every now and then, particularly when he went uphill.

He hunted with them too sometimes, chiefly by coming up and scaring rabbits towards where the cubs lay ambushed, so that the bunnies ran straight into their jaws.

He was useful to them in other ways, climbing up and robbing pigeon’s nests for the eggs which they relished exceedingly, or by occasionally dispatching a hedgehog for them so they did not get the prickles in their mouths.  But while on his part he thus altered his conduct, they on their side were not behindhand, but learnt a dozen human tricks from him that are ordinarily wanting in Reynard’s education.

One evening he went to a cottager who had a row of skeps, and bought one of them, just as it was after the man had smothered the bees.  This he carried to the foxes that they might taste the honey, for he had seen them dig out wild bees’ nests often enough.  The skep full was indeed a wonderful feast for them, they bit greedily into the heavy scented comb, their jaws were drowned in the sticky flood of sweetness, and they gorged themselves on it without restraint.  When they had crunched up the last morsel they tore the skep in pieces, and for hours afterwards they were happily employed in licking themselves clean.

That night he slept near their lair, but they left him and went hunting.  In the morning when he woke he was quite numb with cold, and faint with hunger.  A white mist hung over everything and the wood smelt of autumn.

He got up and stretched his cramped limbs, and then walked homewards.  The summer was over and Mr. Tebrick noticed this now for the first time and was astonished.  He reflected that the cubs were fast growing up, they were foxes at all points, and yet when he thought of the time when they had been sooty and had blue eyes it seemed to him only yesterday.  From that he passed to thinking of the future, asking himself as he had done once before what would become of his vixen and her children.  Before the winter he must tempt them into the security of his garden, and fortify it against all the dangers that threatened them.

But though he tried to allay his fear with such resolutions he remained uneasy all that day.  When he went out to them that afternoon he found only his wife Silvia there and it was plain to him that she too was alarmed, but alas, poor creature, she could tell him nothing, only lick his hands and face, and turn about pricking her ears at every sound.

“Where are your children, Silvia?” he asked her several times, but she was impatient of his questions, but at last sprang into his arms, flattened herself upon his breast and kissed him gently, so that when he departed his heart was lighter because he knew that she still loved him.