They were not shut in by a wire fence as were Farmer
Brown's hens. Some were taking a sun bath just in front of the barn
door. Others were scattered about, picking up bits of food which had
been thrown out for them. A few were scratching in some straw in the
cowyard. In the barn a horse stamped. From the farmhouse sounded the
voice of a woman singing. Once the door of the farmhouse opened, and an
appetizing odor floated out to tickle the nose of Reddy.
Reddy looked sharply for signs of a dog. Not one could he see. If there
was a dog, he must be either in the barn or in the house. It was quite
clear to Reddy that no Fox had bothered this flock of fat hens. He was
sorely tempted to rush out and grab one of them at once, but he didn't.
He was far too clever to do anything like that until he was absolutely
sure that it would be safe.
So Reddy lay flat behind the old tree trunk, with just his nose and his
eyes showing around the end of it, and studied what would be best to do.
He was sure that he could get one of those fat hens, but he wanted more.
Early that morning Reddy would have been quite contented with one, but
now that he was sure that he could get one, he wanted more. If he were
too bold and frightened those hens while catching one, they would make
such a racket that they would be sure to bring some one from the
farmhouse.
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