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    Cinnabar, the One O'Clock Fox
    Cinnabar, the One O'Clock Fox
    Cinnabar, the One O'Clock Fox
    Ebook134 pages1 hour

    Cinnabar, the One O'Clock Fox

    By Marguerite Henry and Wesley Dennis

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    George Washington meets his match in a wily fox in this legendary hunting tale from Newbery Award–winning author Marguerite Henry, back in print by popular demand.

    Cinnabar is a fox. He lives in a den with his family, Vicky and four little cubs. He’s a hardworking fox who does everything he can to ensure that his family has what they need. But during fox hunting season, he likes to have a little fun: Every hunt day, promptly at one o’clock, Cinnabar shows up and runs until nightfall. Can the huntsmen ever catch this clever fox?

    Based on an old legend about fox hunting in the area around Mount Vernon, Cinnabar pits one very wily fox against George Washington himself—and the result is a wild chase for all! This beloved story from Newbery Award–winning author Marguerite Henry features the original text and illustrations with gorgeous new cover art.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAladdin
    Release dateJul 22, 2014
    ISBN9781481404020
    Cinnabar, the One O'Clock Fox
    Author

    Marguerite Henry

    Marguerite Henry (1902–1997) was the beloved author of such classic horse stories as King of the Wind, Misty of Chincoteague, and Stormy, Misty’s Foal, and her work has won several Newbery Awards and Honors. 

    Read more from Marguerite Henry

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    Reviews for Cinnabar, the One O'Clock Fox

    4/5

    218 ratings9 reviews

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    • 4/5
      This is one of the few books by this author that I'd not read as a youth, but I enjoyed reading it as an adult. Brighty is a not-quite wild burro that lives partly in an offshoot of the Grand Canyon, and partly with those humans he likes. He deals with challenges including mountain lions, and those who would abuse his good nature. Though somber in parts, and with some brief mentions of violence, it is an entertaining read for young and older animal lovers alike.
    • 4/5
      When I was a girl I read every Henry horse story I could find. I sure do wish our tiny town library had owned this one, too. I don't think it's as good as King of Wind (the very best), Justin Morgan had a Horse, or probably even Black Gold - but everything by her is worth reading. And everything illustrated by Dennis is worth viewing. Sorry I can't be more objective or specific - all I can do is recommend you read whichever you can get yourself.
    • 3/5
      I first learned about Brighty from Cleveland Amory in his Save the Burros of the Grand Canyon campaign. It was this introduction that has intrigued me to someday read the story about Brighty to learn about him and it was just plain luck my sister me this story. For anyone who has read any of the Misty stories Marguerite Henry continues with her own style of writing. The reading is to-the-point, entertaining and a bit on the dry side as the book gets a bit lengthier. But for the dryness of the plot at times she makes a wonderful story that otherwise captures your imagination while staying with you. The characters in here didn't really seem to have much of a personality while they were a bit on the flat side. Even Brighty after the first introduction seemed to be introduced rather strong before thinning out in the latter half of the book. Definitely would interest any child that is interested in horses, ponies and possibly donkeys or even a introductory book to the Grand Canyon for a family trip. Some parts of the book although not gruesome by most standards of today may cause an issue for the smallest of audiences but otherwise it didn't botch the story.
    • 4/5
      I have the first hardback edition....the story line is fun, the pictures are great. Good as a kid's book and for an easy adult read that is informative about the Big Hole, especially if you've never been here.
    • 4/5
      Henry is well known for her children’s book focusing on horses and other animals. This was one of my favorites as a child.

      Bright Angel was a wild burro named for the creek along which he made his home. In the early 1900s he befriended tourists and naturalists who visited what was to become our 17th National Park – The Grand Canyon. He had a sixth sense about people’s characters and would kick at or run from anyone he deemed unfriendly or a threat. But he was gentle with children and helped carry water and other supplies for those he trusted.

      Henry uses the historical facts and embellishes the story to create a murder mystery with some valuable lessons in natural history. Reading it as an adult, I can definitely see why I loved her books as a child. There are some darker moments in this book, including animal cruelty, but the murder occurs off text and Henry keeps the violence to a bare minimum and uses humor and joy to temper any negative images.

      Illustrations by Wesley Dennis add to the charm of the book.

      NOTE: "Date read" is the approximate time I first read this ... I must have read it 3 or 4 times as a child, as I did with all of Henry's books. Most recent re-read was in March 2013.
    • 5/5
      I loved this book when I was a little kid.
    • 5/5
      A childhood favorite re-visited.Is the story as good as I remember? – YesWhat ages would I recommend it too? – All ages. Children will enjoy the single storyline; while adults enjoy an easy afternoon read (especially while waiting on a bus, show, doctor, or other appointments).Length? – Reasonable for an afternoon.Characters? – Memorable, several characters, though a bit confusing in the beginning.Setting? – Real world, Recent times (Theodore Roosevelt and the naming of the Grand Canyon as a national park).Written approximately? – 1953.Does the story leave questions in the readers mind? – Yes! What was the final sentence for the murderer?Any issues the author (or a more recent publisher) should cover? None.
    • 4/5
      This is a story of the Grand Canyon during the early 1900s when it was the home of trappers, hunters, miners, and mountain men. The story is told through the eyes of a wild burro who lived the live of freedom yet sometimes lived alongside the men of the Canyon. This is based on a true story of real burro who even met Theodore Roosevelt. This is a wonderful well-written story with compelling characters. There is a continuing plot line involving a thief and murderer but much of the book contains episodic chapters of Brighty's adventures. The first half of the book is a slow, gentle read and I did find it hard to settle down with this book but the pace picks up at the mid-point and overall a good read. Recommended, especially if you are interested in this area.
    • 5/5
      I remember vividly on my first trip to the Grand Canyon (at age twelve) my parents let me take take a solo hike down the first part of Bright Angel Trail at dawn. The story of Brighty echo'd in my mind as I spent that 1/2 hour experiencing the Canyon for the first time - it was a defining experience of my youth.

    Book preview

    Cinnabar, the One O'Clock Fox - Marguerite Henry

    Chapter 1

    FOUR IS A JOLLY NICE NUMBER

    It was April in Virginia. The brooks and runs on George Washington’s estate were overflowing in their hurry to join the big Potomac. Pussy willows along the banks were swollen to plumpness. And everywhere, the woods and meadows were alive with cheeps and chirrings and little feet scampering.

    One morning just before the break of dawn, when the moon was still shining brightly, four little fox cubs were born in a den tucked away in a sassafras thicket.

    Cinnabar, their father, had been out all night, hunting. He wanted to bring a nice plump hen to his wife, because she liked nice plump hens. And if ever there was a time to please Vicky, as he called her, it was now. This very night.

    Cinnabar’s masklike face, with its slanted amber eyes, looked up at the great white face of the moon. But that is not what he saw. He saw instead the warm coziness of his own den. And there was Vicky, still busy at the nestbox weaving a mattress of grasses and reeds. He knew what that meant. It meant furry little foxes—any moment now.

    He bayed his happiness to the moon: Yapp yurr. Yapp yur-rrr. He disappeared into a tangle of honeysuckle and hauled out the fat hen that he had cached away an hour before. Then he pawed deeper into the tanglewood and gathered up four good-sized barn mice. He took them one at a time and placed them side by side neatly and securely underneath the hen’s wings.

    My stars and garters! he barked to himself. It’s been a capital night for hunting! Grabbing the hen’s neck in his mouth, he flung her over his shoulder and trotted off toward home.

    Cinnabar was a big, red, magnificent fellow. Courage and heart showed in the very look of him. A rough scar across his nose and a nick on one ear in no way marred his handsomeness. On the contrary, they gave him a gay and gallant air. They spoke of battles won—over eagles and buzzards and hawks and weasels.

    Cinnabar was, in truth, afraid of nothing. Neither of dark nor of storm; nor of hunters nor hounds. He was free and unfearing, the very spirit of the wilds.

    With a windblown movement he went gliding along, his brush of a tail stretched out full. His lively ears pricked to and fro, catching every sound of the night. Pine needles singing. Frogs playing their bassoons. Birds beginning to stir and twitter. It seemed to him that the morning was coming in with a peculiar gladness.

    Silently he left the big trees behind and trotted down a little avenue of hemlocks. Fast as he traveled, his imagination went faster still. He could almost hear Vicky’s cry of delight when she spied not only the plump hen, but the four good mice as well. How she likes hens and mice! he mused. Better than grouse and grasshoppers. Better than anything . . . except me! he chuckled, as he shifted his burden to the other shoulder.

    Chatting and laughing and happy in himself, he threaded his way through the sassafras thicket that hid his den. But as he approached the opening, he stopped dead. What were those strange sounds? He thought he heard small trills and whimperings.

    Criminy, criminy, and by Jimminy! he exploded. I must be a father. I hear puppy voices. Unmistakably, I do.

    Parting the ferns that screened the doorway, he pattered softly through them. Then wriggling forward on his belly, he bunted the hen down the dark entry and finally emerged into the warm comfort of his own den. He blinked his eyes at the brightness. A wick burning in an oyster shell gave off a yellow light, and the fire in the grate was a red glow.

    That you, Cinny? a voice came muffled.

    In reply, Cinnabar barked two short barks and one long. It was the family signal, and it meant Good hunting tonight. He saw Vicky now—up on one elbow, half sitting, half reclining in the nestbox—and he could hear her tongue strokes, licking, licking, licking.

    Little shivers of excitement raced up and down his spine. How many pups would there be this time? Two? Four? Nine? Twelve?

    I shall be quite content with three, he told himself as he took a step closer, and I hope they all have blue eyes. Blue eyes bewitch me.

    Vicky was eager to tell about her babies. She gave four quick, happy barks.

    Oh! Four is a jolly nice number, Cinnabar assured her. ’Twill be easy to provide for them. He laid the big white hen in a splash of firelight, hoping Vicky would notice. But she was concerned only with her young ones.

    My dear, said Cinnabar with a proud grin, have you thought of names for the funny snub-nosed things?

    "Cinnabar! They are not funny snub-nosed things. Oh, yes, they are, she laughed, contradicting herself all in the same breath. Well, anyway, I’ve named the two little boys."

    So? asked Cinnabar, shoving the hen closer.

    Yes. And I do hope you like family names.

    F’rinstance?

    Rascal for my brother, and Pascal for my father.

    I like them indeed! Cinnabar nodded in approval as he plucked at his whiskers thoughtfully. Then reaching into the nestbox he fondled the fuzzy little creatures. Hmmm—how about Merry and Mischief for the vixens? he asked, looking all merry and mischievous himself.

    Vicky sighed in envy. "How do you do it? It took me hours to think up Rascal and Pascal, and you . . . you thought up Merry

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