Neither fox nor porcupine spoke for a while.
Flip sighed. “I figured out something,” he said.
“Yeah? What?”
“You don’t like us very much.”
“I do like you,” Ereth growled.
“Do you like us enough to stay with us?”
“I told you I’d stay, didn’t I? But the minute your father gets back, I’m out of here.”
“Oh.” Flip wiggled a little closer to Ereth. “Mr. Ereth,” he said, “I like you.”
Ereth grunted. “Why?”
“You’re nice, but I don’t think you like it when I say that.”
“Shut up!” Ereth snapped.
Tumble popped down from the entryway. “Ereth!” he cried.
“What?”
“Nimble couldn’t catch that vole. So we’re really hungry. It’s your job to get us some food.”
CHAPTER 15
Chores
THE THREE FOXES sat side by side, tails wagging, tongues lolling, big eyes staring at Ereth.
“All right,” the porcupine said. “It’s perfectly obvious to anybody but a belching boomerang that there’s a whole lot to get done. That means you’ve got work to do.”
“Work?” Tumble asked, irritation in his voice. “What are you talking about?”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed, sludge foot,” Ereth snapped, “but there’s a need to collect food, and to clean the mess around here. Look at those bones scattered about. And the floor! Messy! We need to get the meat stink out. I can’t stand it. There’s your sleeping pile too. It needs to be made neat. Just because you hung around me last night doesn’t mean that it’s going to happen again. From now on—as long as I’m around—you’ll sleep on your side of the den, in your own bed. Am I making myself understood?”
The foxes stared at him blankly.
“All right then, who does what? What chores do you each have?”
The foxes exchanged puzzled looks.
“What’s the problem?” Ereth demanded. “All I’m asking is, who does what around here?”
“We don’t do any of that stuff,” Tumble said disdainfully.
“Moose midges on frog fudge!” Ereth barked. “All I’m asking is, who does what chores?”
Flip said, “Mr. Ereth, all we do is play. And eat.”
“And sleep late,” Nimble added.
“Then who the puppy pancakes does all the work around here?” Ereth demanded.
“Mom,” Nimble replied.
“Right,” Tumble said angrily. “So if you’re going to be our mother, you should be doing all that stuff too.”
“I am not your mother!” Ereth roared. “If you think I’m going to take care of you like some servant while you do nothing, you can go take a slide on the sludge pile.
“This is your den, not mine,” he raged on. “And it’s absolutely disgusting. So first of all, you’re going to clean up.”
“But I hate work,” Tumble announced. “It gives me a headache.”
“Look here, stinkweed,” Ereth said. “You hankering to turn your nose into a pincushion?”
“No.”
“Then you’ll work like everyone else.”
Tumble glowered but said nothing more.
Ereth said, “Who’s the best hunter?”
“I am,” Nimble piped up. “I almost caught that vole. Next time I’m sure I’ll get something.”
“Fine, after we do the den you can go hunting. As for you,” Ereth said to Tumble, “you’ll keep the den floor clean. And you,” he told Flip, “will make sure the bed is kept neat. Now hit it!” the porcupine roared.
The foxes didn’t move.
“What’s the matter?” Ereth demanded.
“What chores are you going to do?” Tumble asked.
“Look here,” Ereth roared, “you wasted wedge of woodchuck wallow, this is your den, not mine!”
“But Mr. Ereth sir,” Flip asked cautiously, “don’t you clean up your own den?”
“One more word out of any of you, and you’ll get fifteen quills in each of your backsides.” Ereth waved his tail ominously. “Now move it!”
With much sighing and grumbling as well as dirty looks at Ereth, the foxes set about their tasks.
Flip began by pushing the bed leaves into a pile, then went about the den picking up stray bits of leaves and twigs with his teeth and depositing them on the heap. Nimble, meanwhile, gathered gnawed bones and carried them one by one—and slowly at that—out of the nest, where she deposited them a short distance from the den’s entryway. As for Tumble, he set about trying to smooth down the dirt floor of the den with his tail. In fact, he spent most of the time cleaning his tail of any twigs, leaves, and bone bits he happened to pick up.
A glowering Ereth watched the work progress. Now and again he called out useful suggestions, such as, “You missed that bone over there, sack foot!” Or, “Hey, armpit brain, don’t forget to smooth down that corner.”
The three foxes worked slowly, resting more often than they labored. They also spent a considerable amount of time complaining about what they were doing. Then, whenever they got close to one another, they fell into bickering and snapping. More than once Ereth had to come between them.
“Mr. Ereth?” It was Flip who called.
“What is it?” Ereth growled.
“Could you help me? I can’t get the leaf pile right.”
“What’s the matter with it?”
“It’s all lopsided. I need you to tell me what to do. Please.”
With a grunt Ereth heaved himself up and waddled over to the corner where Flip was working. Balefully he surveyed the pile of leaves. It was as the fox had said. The leaves had simply been shoved into a corner where they were still quite a mess.
“Typical,” Ereth muttered. “Youngsters don’t know how to do anything right.” In a fury of frustration the porcupine pushed the leaves from first one side, then another, shaping the mass into an orderly pile. As he worked Flip looked on approvingly, but did not lend a paw.
“There!” Ereth said, when he had finished. “Did you see how I did it?”
“Oh, wow!” Flip cried. “It looks so much better than I ever could have done. And you did it faster too.”
Tail wagging with pleasure, he waded clumsily into the pile, then threw himself down right in the middle. “Oh, this is wonderful,” he barked with delight as he squirmed down so that the leaves were all about him. “You do it so well. You should do this chore all the time.”
Flip lifted his head. “Hey, guys,” he cried.
