"He certainly is following our track," said Granny Fox. "Now,
Reddy, you run across the bridge and watch from the top of the
little hill over there. Perhaps I can show you a trick that will
teach you why I have made you learn to run across the bridge."

Reddy trotted across the long bridge and up to the top of the
hill, as Granny had told him to. Then he sat down to watch.
Granny trotted out in the middle of a field and sat down. Pretty
soon a young hound broke out of the bushes, his nose in Granny's
track. Then he looked up and saw her, and his voice grew still
more savage and eager. Granny Fox started to run as soon as she
was sure that the hound had seen her, but she did not run very
fast. Reddy did not know what to make of it, for Granny seemed
simply to be playing with the hound and not really trying to get
away from him at all. Pretty soon Reddy heard another sound. It
was a long, low rumble. Then there was a distant whistle. It was
a train.

Granny heard it, too. As she ran, she began to work back toward
the long bridge. The train was in sight now. Suddenly Granny Fox
started across the bridge so fast that she looked like a little
red streak. The dog was close at her heels when she started and
he was so eager to catch her that he didn't see either the bridge
or the train. But he couldn't begin to run as fast as Granny Fox.
Oh, my, no! When she had reached the other side, he wasn't
halfway across, and right behind him, whistling for him to get
out of the way, was the train.

The hound gave one frightened yelp, and then he did the only
thing he could do; he leaped down, down into the swift water