When Old Granny Fox was tired, she often slipped over there for a
short nap and sun-bath even in winter. She was quite sure that no
one knew anything about it. It was one of her secrets.

This morning Old Granny Fox was very tired, unusually so. In the
first place she had been out hunting all night. Then, before she
could reach home, Bowser the Hound had found her tracks and started
to follow them. Of course, it wouldn't have done to go home then.
It wouldn't have done at all. Bowser would have followed her
straight there and so found out where she lived. So she had led
Bowser far away across the Green Meadows and through the Green
Forest and finally played one of her smart tricks which had so mixed
her tracks that Bowser could no longer follow them. While he had
sniffed and snuffed and snuffed and sniffed with that wonderful nose
of his, trying to find out where she had gone, Old Granny Fox had
trotted straight to the sunny knoll and there curled up to rest.
Right away she fell asleep.

Now Old Granny Fox, like most of the other little people of the
Green Forest and the Green Meadows, sleeps with her ears wide open.
Her eyes may be closed, but not her ears. Those are always on
guard, even when she is asleep, and at the least sound open fly her
eyes, and she is ready to run. If it were not for the way her sharp
ears keep guard, she wouldn't dare take naps in the open right in
broad daylight. If you ever want to catch a Fox asleep, you mustn't
make the teeniest, weeniest noise. Just remember that.

Now Old Granny Fox had no sooner closed her eyes than she began to
dream. At first it was a very pleasant dream, the pleasantest dream a
Fox can have. It was of a chicken dinner, all the chicken she could