"Oh, don't you believe it!" said the boy, who was in the
best of spirits because he had saved the goose. He held fast by the
fox-tail, and swung with it--to one side--when the fox tried to catch
him.
There was such a dance in that forest that the dry beech-leaves fairly
flew! Smirre swung round and round, but the tail swung too; while the
boy kept a tight grip on it, so the fox could not grab him.
The boy was so gay after his success that in the beginning, he laughed
and made fun of the fox. But Smirre was persevering--as old hunters
generally are--and the boy began to fear that he should be captured in
the end. Then he caught sight of a little, young beech-tree that had
shot up as slender as a rod, that it might soon reach the free air above
the canopy of branches which the old beeches spread above it.
Quick as a flash, he let go of the fox-tail and climbed the beech tree.
Smirre Fox was so excited that he continued to dance around after his
tail.
"Don't bother with the dance any longer!" said the boy.
But Smirre couldn't endure the humiliation of his failure to get the
better of such a little tot, so he lay down under the tree, that he
might keep a close watch on him.
The boy didn't have any too good a time of it where he sat, astride a
frail branch. The young beech did not, as yet, reach the high
branch-canopy, so the boy couldn't get over to another tree, and he
didn't dare to come down again.
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