And, what is more, it never can.

_Bowser the Hound._


Very pleasant were the thoughts of Reddy Fox as he trotted back to the
swamp where was the hollow stump in which he had hidden the fat hen he
had stolen. Yes, Sir, very pleasant were the thoughts of Reddy Fox. He
felt sure that no dinner he had ever eaten had tasted anywhere near as
good as would the dinner he was about to enjoy.

In the first place his stomach had not been really filled for a long
time. Food had been scarce, and while Reddy had always obtained enough
to keep from starving, it was a long time since he had had a really good
meal. He had, you remember, traveled a very long distance to catch that
fat hen, and it had been many hours since he had had a bite of anything.
There is nothing like a good appetite to make things taste good. Reddy
certainly had the appetite to make that fat hen the finest dinner a Fox
ever ate.

So, with pleasant thoughts of the feast to come, Reddy trotted along
swiftly. Presently he reached the little swamp in which was the hollow
stump. As he drew near it, he moved very carefully. You see, he was not
quite sure that all was safe. He knew that the farmer from whom he had
stolen that fat hen had seen him run away with it, and he feared that
that farmer might be hiding somewhere about with a terrible gun. So
Reddy used his eyes and his ears and his nose as only he can use them.
All seemed safe. It was as still in that little swamp as if no living
creature had ever visited it. Stopping every few steps to look, listen,
and sniff, Reddy approached that hollow stump.