Hardly was old Granny Fox out of sight on her way to hunt for the chicken she had left on the hill, when Unc' Billy Possum came strolling along the Lone Little Path. He was humming to himself, for he had just had a good breakfast. One of the Merry Little Breezes spied him and hurried to meet him and tell him about how Reddy Fox had been shot.  
Unc' Billy listened, and the grin with which he had greeted the Merry Little Breeze grew into a broad smile.
 
“Are yo' all sure about that?” he asked.
 
The Merry Little Breeze was sure.
 
Unc' Billy Possum stopped for a few minutes and considered.
 
“Serves that no 'count Reddy Fox right,” chuckled Unc' Billy. “He done spoil mah hunting at Farmer Brown's, he raised such a fuss among the hens up there. 'Tisn't safe to go there any mo'! No, Suh, 'tisn't safe, and it won't be safe for a right smart while. Did yo' say that Granny Fox is home?”
 
The Merry Little Breeze hadn't said anything about Granny Fox, but now remembered that she had gone up the hill.
 
“Ah believe Ah will just tote my sympathy over to Reddy Fox,” said Unc' Billy Possum, as he started in the direction of Reddy Fox's house. But he made sure that old Granny Fox was not at home before he showed himself. Reddy Fox lay on his doorstep. He was sick and sore and stiff. Indeed, he was so stiff he couldn't walk at all. And he was weak—weak and hungry, dreadfully hungry. When he heard footsteps, he thought old Granny Fox was bringing him the chicken after which she had gone. He felt ............