'Where are the turkeys?' asked the Smallest Fox, staring into the gloom. 'I thought Bean was a turkey man.'
'He is a turkey man,' said Mr Fox. 'But we're not after turkeys now. We've got plenty of food.'
'Then what do we need, Dad?'
'Take a good look round,' said Mr Fox. 'Don't you see anything that interests you?'
Badger and the Smallest Fox peered into the half-darkness. As their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, they began to see what looked like a whole lot of big glass jars standing upon shelves around the walls. They went closer. They were jars. There were hundreds of them, and upon each one was written the word CIDER.
The Smallest Fox leaped high in the air. 'Oh, Dad!' he cried out. 'Look what we've found! It's cider!'
'Ex-actly,' said Mr Fox.
'Tremendous!' shouted Badger.
'Bean's Secret Cider Cellar,' said Mr Fox. 'But go carefully, my dears. Don't make a noise. This cellar is right underneath the farmhouse itself.'
'Cider,' said Badger, 'is especially good for Badgers. We take it as medicine - one large glass three times a day with meals and another at bedtime.'
'It will make the feast into a banquet,' said Mr Fox.
While they were talking, the Smallest Fox had sneaked a jar off the shelf and had taken a gulp. 'Wow!' he gasped. 'Wow-ee!'
You must understand this was not the ordinary weak fizzy cider one buys in a store. It was the real stuff, a home-brewed fiery liquor that burned in your throat and boiled in your stomach.
'Ah-h-h-h-h-h!' gasped the Smallest Fox. 'This is some cider!'
'That's quite enough of that,' said Mr Fox, grabbing the jar and putting it to his own lips. He took a tremendous gulp. 'It's miraculous!' he whispered, fighting for breath. 'It's fabulous! It's beautiful!'
'It's my turn,' said Badger, taking the jar and tilting his head well back. The cider gurgled and bubbled down his throat. 'It's... it's like melted gold!' he gasped. 'Oh, Foxy, it's... like drinking sunbeams and rainbows!'
'You're poaching!' shrieked Rat. 'Put that down at once! There'll be none left for me!' Rat was perched upon the highest shelf in the cellar, peering out from behind a huge jar. There was a small rubber tube inserted in the neck of the jar, and Rat was using this tube to suck out the cider.
'You're drunk!' said Mr Fox.
'Mind your own business!' shrieked Rat. 'And if you great clumsy brutes come messing about in here we'll all be caught! Get out and leave me to sip my cider in peace.'
At that moment they heard a woman's voice calling out in the house above them. 'Hurry up and get that cider, Mabel!' the voice called. 'You know Mr Bean doesn't like to be kept waiting! Especially when he's been out all night in a tent!'
The animals froze. They stayed absolutely still, their ears pricked, their bodies tense. Then they heard the sound of a door being opened. The door was at the top of a flight of stone steps leading down from the house to the cellar.
And now someone was starting to come down those steps.
16
The Woman
'Quick!' said Mr Fox. 'Hide!' He and Badger and the Smallest Fox jumped up on to a shelf and crouched behind a row of big cider jars. Peering around the jars, they saw a huge woman coming down into the cellar. At the foot of the steps, the woman paused, looking to right and left. Then she turned and headed straight for the place where Mr Fox and Badger and the Smallest Fox were hiding. She stopped right in front of them. The only thing between her and them was a row of cider jars. She was so close, Mr Fox could hear the sound of her breathing. Peeping through the crack between two bottles, he noticed that she carried a big rolling-pin in one hand.
'How many will he want this time, Mrs Bean?' the woman shouted. And from the top of the steps the other voice called back, 'Bring up two or three jars.'
'He drank four yesterday, Mrs Bean.'
'Yes, but he won't want that many today because he's not going to be up there more than a few hours longer. He says the fox is bound to make a run for it this morning. It can't possibly stay down that hole another day without food.'
The woman in the cellar reached out and lifted ajar of cider from the shelf. The jar she took was next but one to the jar behind which Mr Fox was crouching.
'I'll be glad when the rotten brute is killed and strung up on the front porch,' she called out. 'And by the way, Mrs Bean, your husband promised I could have the tail as a souvenir.'