every day granny fox led reddy fox over to the long railroad bridge and made him run back and forth across it until he had no fear of it whatever. at first it had made him dizzy, but now he could run across at the top of his speed and not mind it in the least. “i don't see what good it does to be able to run across a bridge; anyone can do that!” exclaimed reddy one day.
granny fox smiled. “do you remember the first time you tried to do it?” she asked.
reddy hung his head. of course he remembered—remembered that granny had had to scare him into crossing that first time.
suddenly granny fox lifted her head. “hark!” she exclaimed.
reddy pricked up his sharp, pointed ears. way off back, in the direction from which they had come, they heard the baying of a dog. it wasn't the voice of bowser the hound but of a younger dog. granny listened for a few minutes. the voice of the dog grew louder as it drew nearer.
“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 below, and the last reddy saw of him he was frantically trying to swim ashore.
“now you know why i wanted you to learn to cross a bridge; it's a very nice way of getting rid of dogs,” said granny fox, as she climbed up beside reddy.
