I guess then it was sorry it ever took people's ham, and their greens, and their blankets; and it could see and hear that it had no chance--to save its skin.
"Oh Lord! Dear Lord! Help me!" I prayed.
It had to be me, there was no one else.

I never had opened the big doors; I thought it took a man, but when I pushed with all my might--and maybe if the hairs of our heads were numbered, and the sparrows counted, there would be a little mercy for the foxes--I asked for help; maybe I got it.

The doors went back, and I climbed up the ladder to the haymow a few steps and clung there, praying with all my might: "Make them come in! Dear Lord, make them come in! Give them a chance! Help them to save their skins, O Lord!" With a whizz and a flash one went past me, skimmed the cider press, and rushed across the hay; then the other.

I fell to the floor and the next thing I knew the doors were shut, and I was back at my place.

I just went down in a heap and leaned against the wall and shook, and then I laughed and said: "Thank you, Lord! Thank you for helping with the door! And the foxes! The beautiful little red and white foxes! They've got their chance! They'll save their skins! They'll get back to their holes and their babies! Praise the Lord!" I knew when I heard that come out, that it was exactly like my father said it when Amos Hurd was redeemed.