For three days and three nights this waiting-game went on. 'How long can a fox go without food or water?' Boggis asked on the third day. 'Not much longer now,' Bean told him. 'He'll make a run for it soon. He'll have to.' Bean was right. Down in the tunnel the foxes were slowly but surely starving to death. 'If only we could have just a tiny sip of water,' said one of the small foxes. 'Oh Dad, can't you do something?' 'Couldn't we make a dash for it, Dad? We'd have a little bit of a chance, wouldn't we?' 'No chance at all,' snapped Mrs Fox. 'I refuse to let you go up there and face those guns. I'd sooner you stay down here and die in peace...' Mr Fox looked at the four Small Foxes and he smiled. What fine children I have, he thought. They are starving to death and they haven't had a drink for three days, but they are still undefeated. I must not let them down. 'I... suppose we could give it a try,' he said. 'Let's go, Dad! Tell us what you want us to do!' Slowly, Mrs Fox got to her feet. She was suffering more than any of them from the lack of food and water. She was very weak. 'I am so sorry,' she said, 'but I don't think I am going to be much help.' 'You stay right where you are, my darling,' said Mr Fox. 'We can handle this by ourselves.'