"Now you need to deliver the goods."

Balanandaswami's paws grew heavy as he neared the mansion. There was a smell of grilling creature which nauseated him. And a lot of nasty smoke.

He decided he would quietly ease his way through the backdoor and slip up to bed.

No such luck.



"Bala! Look what a mess we have gotten into with you shirking your duties. You are supposed to be the cook. Jags and I know nothing about saucepans and seasonings! Get in here at once."

Balananda looked over and saw the terrible mess. Grilling pans ruined. Charred things dumped into the sink. Burned pots on the floor. Smoke billowing everywhere. For the first time he had a sudden image of the German family returning from the Alps and walking in to this.

"You take over. Clean this up and start afresh," bossed Jagaswami. "We'll be strategizing in the livingroom. Bring the food in there. And then go and get that Spotty and bring him back here. You've had enough time studying his habits. Now you need to deliver the goods ... the cub. To us."

Balananda was left alone in the kitchen. Spotty had licked him clean only an hour ago, when he had been a little foxcub. Spotty had taught him how to lap blackberry shake from the mugs Mum Lioness had served the shakes in. Spotty had nibbled the iddli crumbs from his (Bala's) fur. He could not possibly deliver Spotty to Jags and Kracks. Who knew what they would do to him! (he recalled his own plans, and shivered.)



He was staring at a saucepan on the floor when his legs seemed to start walking of their own accord. They walked him right out the door. The air, as he left the mansion behind, was so sweet! He breathed in big lungfuls of it.

But where was he going? He was amazed at the way his legs were just carrying him along with no planning on his part.



That was when he heard the cry. His legs rushed him toward the source of the sound.

There, under a fern, he found a tiny baby fox crying his heart out.



He picked up the baby. From his own cubhood, he knew that cry. Hunger. Fear.

He could not possibly leave the baby here alone. But what was he to do with him? Where could he take him?

Just then he heard the snapping of twigs, the crunching of leaves, the chuckling of cubses.

"Balanandaswami!" they greeted him. They looked with surprise at the little cub on his back.

"That little chap looks azackly like the baby vohrshun of you," said Omcub. "But he is hungry..."

"I know he is, but what to do about it?" asked Balanandaswami.