midday
He trotted on , hair risen in an angry tuft down his back . He slept curled up in an abandoned shed , but not for long . The morning stars lingering low over the flat horizon kept pace with him , then a sea of mottled pink clouds , then the huge red face of the rising sun . At midday he pounced on an animal like a muskrat that tried to cross the track -- a tough thing to kill , a tougher to eat . At dusk he drew near a farmhouse , where a man was chopping wood . The man picked up a stick , ordered him away , then went on chopping . He made no more overtures after this , but many a farmer thought a fox had been among his chickens .