Well, anyhow, Flop Ear had his fire going, and the potatoes were roasting in the hot leaves, and he had the salt all ready to eat on them.  As he came running back to the blaze, out of the shadows stepped someone, and a voice said: 

“Ah ha!  Good evening!  I was wondering who had made this good fire for me.”

“I—­I did,” said Flop Ear, “but I didn’t make it for you.  I made it for us.”

“Never mind, it will do very well for me,” went on the voice.  “It will save me the trouble of kindling one to roast my pork sausage and chops—­I mean you!” exclaimed the voice.

Flop Ear gave a jump, and looked more closely at the figure in the shadow by the fire.  And then he saw that it was a big, bad old fox, with a fuzzy tail.

“Oh!  Oh!” gasped the little piggie boy.  “You don’t mean that, do you; that you’re going to roast me!”

“Exactly what I’m going to do,” replied the fox, and he caught hold of Flop Ear.  “We will wait until the fire is a little hotter,” he said.

Oh, how poor Flop Ear did try to get loose, but he couldn’t because the fox held him too tightly.  And the fire got hotter and hotter, and the little piggie boy was hoping that Curly Tail and the other animal boys would come back in time to save him, but he could neither see nor hear anything of them.

“I guess I’m going to be roasted!” he cried.  “Oh, if Uncle Wiggily were only here.  Or even Grandpa Squealer!”

“Ha!  No one will come to save you!” snarled the bad fox, and just then, what do you think?  Out from the fire rolled some of the potatoes Flop Ear was roasting for his friends.  Out rolled two big potatoes, and the fox, seeing them, exclaimed: 

“Ha!  What have we here?  Something good to eat, I should say,” and he smelled the baked potato.  “Oh Yum yum!” he cried, and he smacked his lips.  “That will go most excellently with roast pork.  I think I will eat one, and then I’ll put you on the fire to cook,” he said to Flop Ear.

The little piggie boy didn’t say anything, but he felt very bad.  And the fox, holding him with one paw, took up a roasted potato in the other, and cracked it open with his teeth.

And then—!

Well, you know how hot roast potatoes are, just out of the oven, I dare say.  This one, from Flop Ear’s bonfire, was even hotter.  It was just roasting hot, and the fox had bitten into it.

“Oh, wow!” cried the fuzzy creature.  “Oh, double wow, and some ice cream cones!  Oh, pepper casters!  Oh, mustard!  Oh, my mouth, how it burns!  And my paws!”

And then he had to let go of Flop Ear, and run to the brook to get a drink of cold water—­that fox did—­because the hot potato burned his mouth so, but I guess it served him right.

Anyhow, Flop Ear was free, and the next minute along came Curly Tail and all the other animal boys, and then of course the bad fox had to run away and put cold cream on his tongue.  Flop Ear told all that had happened, and then the bonfire was made bigger than ever, and when the roast potatoes were cool they all ate some, and had a fine time.