Fantastic Mr Fox

"All us diggers. That's me and Mole and Rabbit and all our wives and children. Even Weasel, who can usually sneak out of the tightest spots, is right now hiding down my hole with Mrs. Weasel and six kids. What on earth are we going to do, Foxy? I think we're finished!"

Mr. Fox looked at his three children and he smiled. The children smiled back at him, sharing his secret. "My dear old Badger," he said, "this mess you're in is all my fault…"

"I know it's your fault!" said Badger furiously. "And the farmers are not going to give up till they've got you. Unfortunately, that means us as well. It means everyone on the hill." Badger sat down and put a paw around his small son. "We're done for," he said softly. "My poor wife up there is so weak she can't dig another yard."

"Nor can mine," said Mr. Fox. "And yet at this very minute she is preparing for me and my children the most delicious feast of plump juicy chickens.."

"Stop!" cried Badger. "Don't tease me! I can't stand it!"

"It's true!" cried the Small Foxes. "Dad's not teasing! We've got chickens galore!"

"And because everything is entirely my fault," said Mr. Fox, "I invite you to share the feast. I invite everyone to share it—you and Mole and Rabbit and Weasel and all your wives and children. There'll be plenty to go round, I can assure you."

"You mean it?" cried Badger. "You really mean it?"

Mr. Fox pushed his face close to Badger's and whispered darkly, Do you know where we've just been?"

"Where?"

"Right inside Boggis's Chicken House Number One!"

"No!"

"Yes! But that is nothing to where we arc going now. You have come just at the right moment, my dear Badger. You can help us dig. And in the meanwhile, your small son can run back to Mrs. Badger and all the others and spread the good news." Mr. Fox turned to the Small Badger and said. "Tell them they are invited to a Fox's Feast. Then bring them all down here and follow this tunnel back until you find my home!"

"Yes, Mr. Fox!" said the Small Badger. "Yes, sir! Right away, sir! Oh, thank you, sir!" and he scrambled quickly back through the hole in the roof of the tunnel and disappeared.

13 Bunce's Giant Storehouse

"My dear Foxy!" cried Badger. "What in the world has happened to your tail?"

"Don't talk about it, please," said Mr. Fox. "It's a painful subject."

They were digging the new tunnel. They dug on in silence. Badger was a great digger and the tunnel went forward at a terrific pace now that he was lending a paw. Soon they were crouching underneath yet another wooden floor.

Mr. Fox grinned slyly, showing sharp white teeth. "If I am not mistaken, my dear Badger," he said, "we are now underneath the farm which belongs to that nasty little pot-bellied dwarf, Bunce. We are, in fact, directly underneath the most interesting part of that farm."

"Ducks and geese!" cried the Small Foxes, licking their lips. "Juicy tender ducks and big fat geese!"

"Ex-actly!" said Mr. Fox.

"But how in the world can you know where we are?" asked Badger.

Mr. Fox grinned again, showing even more white teeth. "Look," he said, "I know my way around these farms blindfold. For me it's just as easy below ground as it is above it." He reached high and pushed up one wooden floorboard, then another. He poked his head through the gap.

"Yes!" he shouted, jumping up into the room above. "I've done it again! I've hit it smack on the nose! Right in the bull's-eye! Come and look!"

Quickly Badger and the three Small Foxes scrambled up after him. They stopped and stared. They stood and gaped. They were so overwhelmed they couldn't speak; for what they now saw was a kind of fox's dream, a badger's dream, a paradise for hungry animals.

"This, my dear old Badger," proclaimed Mr. Fox, "is Bunce's Mighty Storehouse! All his finest stuff is stored in here before he sends it off to market."

Against all the four walls of the great room, stacked in cupboards and piled upon shelves reaching from floor to ceiling, were thousands and thousands of the finest and fattest ducks and geese, plucked and ready for roasting! And up above, dangling from the rafters, there must have been at least a hundred smoked hams and fifty sides of bacon!

"Just feast your eyes on that!" cried Mr. Fox, dancing up and down. "What d'you think of it, eh? Pretty good grub!'

Suddenly, as though springs had been released in their legs, the three hungry Small Foxes and the ravenously hungry Badger sprang forward to grab the luscious food.

"Stop!" ordered Mr. Fox. "This is my party, so I shall do the choosing." The others fell back, licking their chops. Mr. Fox began prowling around the storehouse examining the glorious display with an expert eye. A thread of saliva slid down one side of his jaw and hung suspended in mid-air, then snapped.