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diff --git a/4698-h/4698-h.htm b/4698-h/4698-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d4dd96 --- /dev/null +++ b/4698-h/4698-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2982 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Whitefoot the Wood Mouse, by Thornton W. Burgess + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's Whitefoot the Wood Mouse, by Thornton W. Burgess + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Whitefoot the Wood Mouse + +Author: Thornton W. Burgess + +Release Date: February 17, 2010 [EBook #4698] +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITEFOOT THE WOOD MOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Kent Fielden, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + WHITEFOOT THE WOOD MOUSE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Thornton W. Burgess + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> Whitefoot + Spends A Happy Winter <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. + </a> Whitefoot Sees Queer Things <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> Farmer Brown's Boy + Becomes Acquainted <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> Whitefoot + Grows Anxious <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> The + End Of Whitefoot's Worries <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER + VI. </a> A Very Careless Jump <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> Whitefoot Gives Up + Hope <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> The + Rescue <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> Two + Timid Persons Meet <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> The + White Watchers <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> Jumper + Is In Doubt <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> Whitey + The Owl Saves Jumper <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. + </a> Whitefoot Decides Quickly <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> Shadows Return <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> Whitefoots Dreadful + Journey <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> Whitefoot + Climbs A Tree <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> Whitefoot + Finds A Hole Just In Time <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER + XVIII. </a> An Unpleasant Surprise <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> Whitefoot Finds A + Home At Last <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> Whitefoot + Makes Himself At Home <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. + </a> Whitefoot Envies Timmy <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> + CHAPTER XXII. </a> Timmy Proves To Be A True Neighbor <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> Whitefoot Spends + A Dreadful Night <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> Whitefoot + The Wood Mouse Is Unhappy <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER + XXV. </a> Whitefoot Finds Out What The Matter Was <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> Love Fills The + Heart Of Whitefoot <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. + </a> Mr. And Mrs. Whitefoot <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> + CHAPTER XVIII. </a> Mrs. Whitefoot Decides On A Home <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> Making Over An + Old House <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> The + Whitefoots Enjoy Their New Home <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> + CHAPTER XXXI. </a> Whitefoot Is Hurt <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> The + Surprise <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I: Whitefoot Spends A Happy Winter + </h2> + <p> + In all his short life Whitefoot the Wood Mouse never had spent such a + happy winter. Whitefoot is one of those wise little people who never allow + unpleasant things of the past to spoil their present happiness, and who + never borrow trouble from the future. Whitefoot believes in getting the + most from the present. The things which are past are past, and that is all + there is to it. There is no use in thinking about them. As for the things + of the future, it will be time enough to think about them when they + happen. + </p> + <p> + If you and I had as many things to worry about as does Whitefoot the Wood + Mouse, we probably never would be happy at all. But Whitefoot is happy + whenever he has a chance to be, and in this he is wiser than most human + beings. You see, there is not one of all the little people in the Green + Forest who has so many enemies to watch out for as has Whitefoot. There + are ever so many who would like nothing better than to dine on plump + little Whitefoot. There are Buster Bear and Billy Mink and Shadow the + Weasel and Unc' Billy Possum and Hooty the Owl and all the members of the + Hawk family, not to mention Blacky the Crow in times when other food is + scarce. Reddy and Granny Fox and Old Man Coyote are always looking for + him. + </p> + <p> + So you see Whitefoot never knows at what instant he may have to run for + his life. That is why he is such a timid little fellow and is always + running away at the least little unexpected sound. In spite of all this he + is a happy little chap. + </p> + <p> + It was early in the winter that Whitefoot found a little hole in a corner + of Farmer Brown's sugar-house and crept inside to see what it was like in + there. It didn't take him long to decide that it was the most delightful + place he ever had found. He promptly decided to move in and spend the + winter. In one end of the sugar-house was a pile of wood. Down under this + Whitefoot made himself a warm, comfortable nest. It was a regular castle + to Whitefoot. He moved over to it the store of seeds he had laid up for + winter use. + </p> + <p> + Not one of his enemies ever thought of visiting the sugar-house in search + of Whitefoot, and they wouldn't have been able to get in if they had. When + rough Brother North Wind howled outside, and sleet and snow were making + other little people shiver, Whitefoot was warm and comfortable. There was + all the room he needed or wanted in which to run about and play. He could + go outside when he chose to, but he didn't choose to very often. For days + at a time he didn't have a single fright. Yes indeed, Whitefoot spent a + happy winter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II: Whitefoot Sees Queer Things + </h2> + <p> + Whitefoot had spent the winter undisturbed in Farmer Brown's sugar-house. + He had almost forgotten the meaning of fear. He had come to look on that + sugar-house as belonging to him. It wasn't until Farmer Brown's boy came + over to prepare things for sugaring that Whitefoot got a single real + fright. The instant Farmer Brown's boy opened the door, Whitefoot + scampered down under the pile of wood to his snug little nest, and there + he lay, listening to the strange sounds. At last he could stand it no + longer and crept to a place where he could peep out and see what was going + on. It didn't take him long to discover that this great two-legged + creature was not looking for him, and right away he felt better. After a + while Farmer Brown's boy went away, and Whitefoot had the little + sugar-house to himself again. + </p> + <p> + But Farmer Brown's boy had carelessly left the door wide open. Whitefoot + didn't like that open door. It made him nervous. There was nothing to + prevent those who hunt him from walking right in. So the rest of that + night Whitefoot felt uncomfortable and anxious. + </p> + <p> + He felt still more anxious when next day Farmer Brown's boy returned and + became very busy putting things to right. Then Farmer Brown himself came + and strange things began to happen. It became as warm as in summer. You + see Farmer Brown had built a fire under the evaporator. Whitefoot's + curiosity kept him at a place where he could peep out and watch all that + was done. He saw Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown's boy pour pails of sap + into a great pan. By and by a delicious odor filled the sugar-house. It + didn't take him a great while to discover that these two-legged creatures + were so busy that he had nothing to fear from them, and so he crept out to + watch. He saw them draw the golden syrup from one end of the evaporator + and fill shining tin cans with it. Day after day they did the same thing. + At night when they had left and all was quiet inside the sugar-house, + Whitefoot stole out and found delicious crumbs where they had eaten their + lunch. He tasted that thick golden stuff and found it sweet and good. + Later he watched them make sugar and nearly made himself sick that night + when they had gone home, for they had left some of that sugar where he + could get at it. He didn't understand these queer doings at all. But he + was no longer afraid. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III: Farmer Brown's Boy Becomes Acquainted + </h2> + <p> + It didn't take Farmer Brown's boy long to discover that Whitefoot the Wood + Mouse was living in the little sugar-house. He caught glimpses of + Whitefoot peeping out at him. Now Farmer Brown's boy is wise in the ways + of the little people of the Green Forest. Right away he made up his mind + to get acquainted with Whitefoot. He knew that not in all the Green Forest + is there a more timid little fellow than Whitefoot, and he thought it + would be a fine thing to be able to win the confidence of such a shy + little chap. + </p> + <p> + So at first Farmer Brown's boy paid no attention whatever to Whitefoot. He + took care that Whitefoot shouldn't even know that he had been seen. Every + day when he ate his lunch, Farmer Brown's boy scattered a lot of crumbs + close to the pile of wood under which Whitefoot had made his home. Then he + and Farmer Brown would go out to collect sap. When they returned not a + crumb would be left. + </p> + <p> + One day Farmer Brown's boy scattered some particularly delicious crumbs. + Then, instead of going out, he sat down on a bench and kept perfectly + still. Farmer Brown and Bowser the Hound went out. Of course Whitefoot + heard them go out, and right away he poked his little head out from under + the pile of wood to see if the way was clear. Farmer Brown's boy sat there + right in plain sight, but Whitefoot didn't see him. That was because + Farmer Brown's boy didn't move the least bit. Whitefoot ran out and at + once began to eat those delicious crumbs. When he had filled his little + stomach, he began to carry the remainder back to his storehouse underneath + the woodpile. While he was gone on one of these trips, Farmer Brown's boy + scattered more crumbs in a line that led right up to his foot. Right there + he placed a big piece of bread crust. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot was working so hard and so fast to get all those delicious bits + of food that he took no notice of anything else until he reached that + piece of crust. Then he happened to look up right into the eyes of Farmer + Brown's boy. With a frightened little squeak Whitefoot darted back, and + for a long time he was afraid to come out again. + </p> + <p> + But Farmer Brown's boy didn't move, and at last Whitefoot could stand the + temptation no longer. He darted out halfway, scurried back, came out + again, and at last ventured right up to the crust. Then he began to drag + it back to the woodpile. Still Farmer Brown's boy did not move. + </p> + <p> + For two or three days the same thing happened. By this time, Whitefoot had + lost all fear. He knew that Farmer Brown's boy would not harm him, and it + was not long before he ventured to take a bit of food from Farmer Brown's + boy's hand. After that Farmer Brown's boy took care that no crumbs should + be scattered on the ground. Whitefoot had to come to him for his food, and + always Farmer Brown's boy had something delicious for him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV: Whitefoot Grows Anxious + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Tis sad indeed to trust a friend + Then have that trust abruptly end. + —Whitefoot +</pre> + <p> + I know of nothing that is more sad than to feel that a friend is no longer + to be trusted. There came a time when Whitefoot the Wood Mouse almost had + this feeling. It was a very, very anxious time for Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + You see, Whitefoot and Farmer Brown's boy had become the very best of + friends there in the little sugar-house. They had become such good friends + that Whitefoot did not hesitate to take food from the hands of Farmer + Brown's boy. Never in all his life had he had so much to eat or such good + things to eat. He was getting so fat that his handsome little coat was + uncomfortably tight. He ran about fearlessly while Farmer Brown and Farmer + Brown's boy were making maple syrup and maple sugar. He had even lost his + fear of Bowser the Hound, for Bowser had paid no attention to him + whatever. + </p> + <p> + Now you remember that Whitefoot had made his home way down beneath the + great pile of wood in the sugar-house. Of course Farmer Brown and Farmer + Brown's boy used that wood for the fire to boil the sap to make the syrup + and sugar. Whitefoot thought nothing of this until one day he discovered + that his little home was no longer as dark as it had been. A little ray of + light crept down between the sticks. Presently another little ray of light + crept down between the sticks. + </p> + <p> + It was then that Whitefoot began to grow anxious. It was then he realized + that that pile of wood was growing smaller and smaller, and if it kept on + growing smaller, by and by there wouldn't be any pile of wood and his + little home wouldn't be hidden at all. Of course Whitefoot didn't + understand why that wood was slipping away. In spite of himself he began + to grow suspicious. He couldn't think of any reason why that wood should + be taken away, unless it was to look for his little home. Farmer Brown's + boy was just as kind and friendly as ever, but all the time more and more + light crept in, as the wood vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear, what does it mean?” cried Whitefoot to himself. “They must be + looking for my home, yet they have been so good to me that it is hard to + believe they mean any harm. I do hope they will stop taking this wood + away. I won't have any hiding-place at all, and then I will have to go + outside back to my old home in the hollow stump. I don't want to do that. + Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I was so happy and now I am so worried! Why can't + happy times last always?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V: The End Of Whitefoot's Worries + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You never can tell! You never can tell! + Things going wrong will often end well. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + The next time you meet him just ask Whitefoot if this isn't so. Things had + been going very wrong for Whitefoot. It had begun to look to Whitefoot as + if he would no longer have a snug, hidden little home in Farmer Brown's + sugar-house. The pile of wood under which he had made that snug little + home was disappearing so fast that it began to look as if in a little + while there would be no wood at all. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot quite lost his appetite. He no longer came out to take food from + Farmer Brown's boy's hand. He stayed right in his snug little home and + worried. + </p> + <p> + Now Farmer Brown's boy had not once thought of the trouble he was making. + He wondered what had become of Whitefoot, and in his turn he began to + worry. He was afraid that something had happened to his little friend. He + was thinking of this as he fed the sticks of wood to the fire for boiling + the sap to make syrup and sugar. Finally, as he pulled away two big + sticks, he saw something that made him whistle with surprise. It was + Whitefoot's nest which he had so cleverly hidden way down underneath that + pile of wood when he had first moved into the sugar-house. With a + frightened little squeak, Whitefoot ran out, scurried across the little + sugar-house and out though the open door. + </p> + <p> + Farmer Brown's boy understood. He understood perfectly that little people + like Whitefoot want their homes hidden away in the dark. “Poor little + chap,” said Farmer Brown's boy."He had a regular castle here and we have + destroyed it. He's got the snuggest kind of a little nest here, but he + won't come back to it so long as it is right out in plain sight. He + probably thinks we have been hunting for this little home of his. Hello! + Here's his storehouse! I've often wondered how the little rascal could eat + so much, but now I understand. He stored away here more than half of the + good things I have given him. I am glad he did. If he hadn't, he might not + come back, but I feel sure that to-night, when all is quiet, he will come + back to take away all his food. I must do something to keep him here.” + </p> + <p> + Farmer Brown's boy sat down to think things over. Then he got an old box + and made a little round hole in one end of it. Very carefully he took up + Whitefoot's nest and placed it under the old box in the darkest corner of + the sugar-house. Then he carried all Whitefoot's supplies over there and + put them under the box. He went outside, and got some branches of hemlock + and threw these in a little pile over the box. After this he scattered + some crumbs just outside. + </p> + <p> + Late that night Whitefoot did come back. The crumbs led him to the old + box. He crept inside. There was his snug little home! All in a second + Whitefoot understood, and trust and happiness returned. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI: A Very Careless Jump + </h2> + <p> + Whitefoot once more was happy. When he found his snug little nest and his + store of food under that old box in the darkest corner of Farmer Brown's + sugar-house, he knew that Farmer Brown's boy must have placed them there. + It was better than the old place under the woodpile. It was the best place + for a home Whitefoot ever had had. It didn't take him long to change his + mind about leaving the little sugar-house. Somehow he seemed to know right + down inside that his home would not again be disturbed. + </p> + <p> + So he proceeded to rearrange his nest and to put all his supplies of food + in one corner of the old box. When everything was placed to suit him he + ventured out, for now that he no longer feared Farmer Brown's boy he + wanted to see all that was going on. He liked to jump up on the bench + where Farmer Brown's boy sometimes sat. He would climb up to where Farmer + Brown's boy's coat hung and explore the pockets of it. Once he stole + Farmer Brown's boy's handkerchief. He wanted it to add to the material his + nest was made of. Farmer Brown's boy discovered it just as it was + disappearing, and how he laughed as he pulled it away. + </p> + <p> + So, what with eating and sleeping and playing about, secure in the feeling + that no harm could come to him, Whitefoot was happier than ever before in + his little life. He knew that Farmer Brown's boy and Farmer Brown and + Bowser the Hound were his friends. He knew, too, that so long as they were + about, none of his enemies would dare come near. This being so, of course + there was nothing to be afraid of. No harm could possibly come to him. At + least, that is what Whitefoot thought. + </p> + <p> + But you know, enemies are not the only dangers to watch out for. Accidents + will happen. When they do happen, it is very likely to be when the + possibility of them is farthest from your thoughts. Almost always they are + due to heedlessness or carelessness. It was heedlessness that got + Whitefoot into one of the worst mishaps of his whole life. + </p> + <p> + He had been running and jumping all around the inside of the little + sugar-house. He loves to run and jump, and he had been having just the + best time ever. Finally Whitefoot ran along the old bench and jumped from + the end of it for a box standing on end, which Farmer Brown's boy + sometimes used to sit on. It wasn't a very long jump, but somehow + Whitefoot misjudged it. He was heedless, and he didn't jump quite far + enough. Right beside that box was a tin pail half filled with sap. Instead + of landing on the box, Whitefoot landed with a splash in that pail of sap. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII: Whitefoot Gives Up Hope + </h2> + <p> + Whitefoot had been in many tight places. Yes, indeed, Whitefoot had been + in many tight places. He had had narrow escapes of all kinds. But never + had he felt so utterly hopeless as now. The moment he landed in that sap, + Whitefoot began to swim frantically. He isn't a particularly good swimmer, + but he could swim well enough to keep afloat for a while. His first + thought was to scramble up the side of the tin pail, but when he reached + it and tried to fasten his sharp little claws into it in order to climb, + he discovered that he couldn't. Sharp as they were, his little claws just + slipped, and his struggles to get up only resulted in tiring him out and + in plunging him wholly beneath the sap. He came up choking and gasping. + Then round and round inside that pail he paddled, stopping every two or + three seconds to try to climb up that hateful, smooth, shiny wall. + </p> + <p> + The more he tried to climb out, the more frightened he became. + </p> + <p> + He was in a perfect panic of fear. He quite lost his head, did Whitefoot. + The harder he struggled, the more tired he became, and the greater was his + danger of drowning. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot squeaked pitifully. He didn't want to drown. Of course not. He + wanted to live. But unless he could get out of that pail very soon, he + would drown. He knew it. He knew that he couldn't hold on much longer. He + knew that just as soon as he stopped paddling, he would sink. Already he + was so tired from his frantic efforts to escape that it seemed to him that + he couldn't hold out any longer. But somehow he kept his legs moving, and + so kept afloat. + </p> + <p> + Just why he kept struggling, Whitefoot couldn't have told. It wasn't + because he had any hope. He didn't have the least bit of hope. He knew now + that he couldn't climb the sides of that pail, and there was no other way + of getting out. Still he kept on paddling. It was the only way to keep + from drowning, and though he felt sure that he had got to drown at last, + he just wouldn't until he actually had to. And all the time Whitefoot + squeaked hopelessly, despairingly, pitifully. He did it without knowing + that he did it, just as he kept paddling round and round. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII: The Rescue + </h2> + <p> + When Whitefoot made the heedless jump that landed him in a pail half + filled with sap, no one else was in the little sugar-house. Whitefoot was + quite alone. You see, Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown's boy were out + collecting sap from the trees, and Bowser the Hound was with them. + </p> + <p> + Farmer Brown's boy was the first to return. He came in just after + Whitefoot had given up all hope. He went at once to the fire to put more + wood on. As he finished this job he heard the faintest of little squeaks. + It was a very pitiful little squeak. Farmer Brown's boy stood perfectly + still and listened. He heard it again. He knew right away that it was the + voice of Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” exclaimed Farmer Brown's boy. “That sounds as if Whitefoot is in + trouble of some kind. I wonder where the little rascal is. I wonder what + can have happened to him. I must look into this.” Again Farmer Brown's boy + heard that faint little squeak. It was so faint that he couldn't tell + where it came from. Hurriedly and anxiously he looked all over the little + sugar-house, stopping every few seconds to listen for that pitiful little + squeak. It seemed to come from nowhere in particular. Also it was growing + fainter. + </p> + <p> + At last Farmer Brown's boy happened to stand still close to that tin pail + half filled with sap. He heard the faint little squeak again and with it a + little splash. It was the sound of the little splash that led him to look + down. In a flash he understood what had happened. He saw poor little + Whitefoot struggling feebly, and even as he looked Whitefoot's head went + under. He was very nearly drowned. + </p> + <p> + Stooping quickly, Farmer Brown's boy grabbed Whitefoot's long tail and + pulled him out. Whitefoot was so nearly drowned that he didn't have + strength enough to even kick. A great pity filled the eyes of Farmer + Brown's boy as he held Whitefoot's head down and gently shook him. He was + trying to shake some of the sap out of Whitefoot. It ran out of + Whitefoot's nose and out of his mouth. Whitefoot began to gasp. Then + Farmer Brown's boy spread his coat close by the fire, rolled Whitefoot up + in his handkerchief and gently placed him on the coat. For some time + Whitefoot lay just gasping. But presently his breath came easier, and + after a while he was breathing naturally. But he was too weak and tired to + move, so he just lay there while Farmer Brown's boy gently stroked his + head and told him how sorry he was. + </p> + <p> + Little by little Whitefoot recovered his strength. At last he could sit + up, and finally he began to move about a little, although he was still + wobbly on his legs. Farmer Brown's boy put some bits of food where + Whitefoot could get them, and as he ate, Whitefoot's beautiful soft eyes + were filled with gratitude. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX: Two Timid Persons Meet + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thus always you will meet life's test— + To do the thing you can do best. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Jumper the Hare sat crouched at the foot of a tree in the Green Forest. + Had you happened along there, you would not have seen him. At least, I + doubt if you would. If you had seen him, you probably wouldn't have known + it. You see, in his white coat Jumper was so exactly the color of the snow + that he looked like nothing more than a little heap of snow. + </p> + <p> + Just in front of Juniper was a little round hole. He gave it no attention. + It didn't interest him in the least. All through the Green Forest were + little holes in the snow. Jumper was so used to them that he seldom + noticed them. So he took no notice of this one until something moved down + in that hole. Jumper's eyes opened a little wider and he watched. A sharp + little face with very bright eyes filled that little round hole. Jumper + moved just the tiniest bit, and in a flash that sharp little face with the + bright eyes disappeared. Jumper sat still and waited. After a long wait + the sharp little face with bright eyes appeared again. “Don't be + frightened, Whitefoot,” said Jumper softly. At the first word the sharp + little face disappeared, but in a moment it was back, and the sharp little + eyes were fixed on Jumper suspiciously. After a long stare the suspicion + left them, and out of the little round hole came trim little Whitefoot in + a soft brown coat with white waistcoat and with white feet and a long, + slim tail. This winter he was not living in Farmer Brown's sugarhouse. + </p> + <p> + “Gracious, Jumper, how you did scare me!” said he. + </p> + <p> + Jumper chuckled. “Whitefoot, I believe you are more timid than I am,” he + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't I be? I'm ever so much smaller, and I have more enemies,” + retorted Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “It is true you are smaller, but I am not so sure that you have more + enemies,” replied Jumper thoughtfully. “It sometimes seems to me that I + couldn't have more, especially in winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Name them,” commanded Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “Hooty the Great Horned Owl, Yowler the Bob Cat, Old Man Coyote, Reddy + Fox, Terror the Goshawk, Shadow the Weasel, Billy Mink.” Jumper paused. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” demanded Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't that enough?” retorted Jumper rather sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I have all of those and Blacky the Crow and Butcher the Shrike and Sammy + Jay in winter, and Buster Hear and Jimmy Skunk and several of the Snake + family in summer,” replied Whitefoot. “It seems to me sometimes as if I + need eyes and ears all over me. Night and day there is always some one + hunting for poor little me. And then some folks wonder why I am so timid. + If I were not as timid as I am, I wouldn't be alive now; I would have been + caught long ago. Folks may laugh at me for being so easily frightened, but + I don't care. That is what saves my life a dozen times a day.” + </p> + <p> + Jumper looked interested. “I hadn't thought of that,” said he. “I'm a very + timid person myself, and sometimes I have been ashamed of being so easily + frightened. But come to think of it, I guess you are right; the more timid + I am, the longer I am likely to live.” Whitefoot suddenly darted into his + hole. Jumper didn't move, but his eyes widened with fear. A great white + bird had just alighted on a stump a short distance away. It was Whitey the + Snowy Owl, down from the Far North. + </p> + <p> + “There is another enemy we both forgot,” thought Jumper, and tried not to + shiver. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X: The White Watchers + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Much may be gained by sitting still + If you but have the strength of will. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Jumper the Hare crouched at the foot of a tree in the Green Forest, and a + little way from him on a stump sat Whitey the Snowy Owl. Had you been + there to see them, both would have appeared as white as the snow around + them unless you had looked very closely. Then you might have seen two + narrow black lines back of Jumper's head. They were the tips of his ears, + for these remain black. And near the upper part of the white mound which + was Whitey you might have seen two round yellow spots, his eyes. + </p> + <p> + There they were for all the world like two little heaps of snow. Jumper + didn't move so much as a hair. Whitey didn't move so much as a feather. + Both were waiting and watching. Jumper didn't move because he knew that + Whitey was there. Whitey didn't move because he didn't want any one to + know he was there, and didn't know that Jumper was there. Jumper was + sitting still because he was afraid. Whitey was sitting still because he + was hungry. + </p> + <p> + So there they sat, each in plain sight of the other but only one seeing + the other. This was because Juniper had been fortunate enough to see + Whitey alight on that stump. Jumper had been sitting still when Whitey + arrived, and so those fierce yellow eyes had not yet seen him. But had + Jumper so much as lifted one of those long ears, Whitey would have seen, + and his great claws would have been reaching for Jumper. + </p> + <p> + Jumper didn't want to sit still. No, indeed! He wanted to run. You know it + is on those long legs of his that Jumper depends almost wholly for safety. + But there are times for running and times for sitting still, and this was + a time for sitting still. He knew that Whitey didn't know that he was + anywhere near. But just the same it was hard, very hard to sit there with + one he so greatly feared watching so near. It seemed as if those fierce + yellow eyes of Whitey must see him. They seemed to look right through him. + They made him shake inside. + </p> + <p> + “I want to run. I want to run. I want to run,” Jumper kept saying to + himself. Then he would say, “But I mustn't. I mustn't. I mustn't.” And so + Jumper did the hardest thing in the world,—sat still and stared + danger in the face. He was sitting still to save his life. + </p> + <p> + Whitey the Snowy Owl was sitting still to catch a dinner. I know that + sounds queer, but it was so. He knew that so long as he sat still, he was + not likely to be seen. It was for this purpose that Old Mother Nature had + given him that coat of white. In the Far North, which was his real home, + everything is white for months and months, and any one dressed in a dark + suit can be seen a long distance. So Whitey had been given that white coat + that he might have a better chance to catch food enough to keep him alive. + </p> + <p> + And he had learned how to make the best use of it. Yes, indeed, he knew + how to make the best use of it. It was by doing just what he was doing + now,—sitting perfectly still. Just before he had alighted on that + stump he had seen something move at the entrance to a little round hole in + the snow. He was sure of it. + </p> + <p> + “A Mouse,” thought Whitey, and alighted on that stump. “He saw me flying, + but he'll forget about it after a while and will come out again. He won't + see me then if I don't move. And I won't move until he is far enough from + that hole for me to catch him before he can get back to it.” + </p> + <p> + So the two watchers in white sat without moving for the longest time, one + watching for a dinner and the other watching the other watcher. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI: Jumper Is In Doubt + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When doubtful what course to pursue + 'Tis sometimes best to nothing do. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Jumper the Hare was beginning to feel easier in his mind. He was no longer + shaking inside. In fact, he was beginning to feel quite safe. There he was + in plain sight of Whitey the Snowy Owl, sitting motionless on a stump only + a short distance away, yet Whitey hadn't seen him. Whitey had looked + straight at him many times, but because Jumper had not moved so much as a + hair Whitey had mistaken him for a little heap of snow. + </p> + <p> + “All I have to do is to keep right on sitting perfectly still, and I'll be + as safe as if Whitey were nowhere about. Yes, sir, I will,” thought + Jumper. “By and by he will become tired and fly away. I do hope he'll do + that before Whitefoot comes out again. If Whitefoot should come out, I + couldn't warn him because that would draw Whitey's attention to me, and he + wouldn't look twice at a Wood Mouse when there was a chance to get a Hare + for his dinner. + </p> + <p> + “This is a queer world. It is so. Old Mother Nature does queer things. + Here she has given me a white coat in winter so that I may not be easily + seen when there is snow on the ground, and at the same time she has given + one of those I fear most a white coat so that he may not be easily seen, + either. It certainly is a queer world.” + </p> + <p> + Jumper forgot that Whitey was only a chance visitor from the Far North and + that it was only once in a great while that he came down there, while up + in the Far North where he belonged nearly everybody was dressed in white. + </p> + <p> + Jumper hadn't moved once, but once in a while Whitey turned his great + round head for a look all about in every direction. But it was done in + such a way that only eyes watching him sharply would have noticed it. Most + of the time he kept his fierce yellow eyes fixed on the little hole in the + snow in which Whitefoot had disappeared. You know Whitey can see by day + quite as well as any other bird. + </p> + <p> + Jumper, having stopped worrying about himself, began to worry about + Whitefoot. He knew that Whitefoot had seen Whitey arrive on that stump and + that was why he had dodged back into his hole and since then had not even + poked his nose out. But that had been so long ago that by this time + Whitefoot must think that Whitey had gone on about his business, and + Jumper expected to see Whitefoot appear any moment. What Jumper didn't + know was that Whitefoot's bright little eyes had all the time been + watching Whitey from another little hole in the snow some distance away. A + tunnel led from this little hole to the first little hole. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly off among the trees something moved. At least, Jumper thought he + saw something move. Yes, there it was, a little black spot moving swiftly + this way and that way over the snow. Jumper stared very hard. And then his + heart seemed to jump right up in his throat. It did so. He felt as if he + would choke. That black spot was the tip end of a tail, the tail of a + small, very slim fellow dressed all in white, the only other one in all + the Green Forest who dresses all in white. It was Shadow the Weasel! In + his white winter coat he is called Ermine. + </p> + <p> + He was running this way and that way, back and forth, with his nose to the + snow. He was hunting, and Jumper knew that sooner or later Shadow would + find him. Safety from Shadow lay in making the best possible use of those + long legs of his, but to do that would bring Whitey the Owl swooping after + him. What to do Jumper didn't know. And so he did nothing. It happened to + be the wisest thing he could do. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII: Whitey The Owl Saves Jumper + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It often happens in the end + An enemy may prove a friend. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Was ever any one in a worse position than Jumper the Hare? To move would + be to give himself away to Whitey the Snowy Owl. If he remained where he + was very likely Shadow the Weasel would find him, and the result would be + the same as if he were caught by Whitey the Owl. Neither Whitey nor Shadow + knew he was there, but it would be only a few minutes before one of them + knew it. At least, that is the way it looked to Jumper. + </p> + <p> + Whitey wouldn't know it unless he moved, but Shadow the Weasel would find + his tracks, and his nose would lead him straight there. Back and forth, + back and forth, this way, that way and the other way, just a little + distance off, Shadow was running with his nose to the snow. He was hunting—hunting + for the scent of some one whom he could kill. In a few minutes he would be + sure to find where Jumper had been, and then his nose would lead him + straight to that tree at the foot of which Jumper was crouching. + </p> + <p> + Nearer and nearer came Shadow. He was slim and trim and didn't look at all + terrible. Yet there was no one in all the Green Forest more feared by the + little people in fur, by Jumper, by Peter Rabbit, by Whitefoot, even by + Chatterer the Red Squirrel. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” thought Jumper, “he won't find my scent after all. Perhaps + he'll go in another direction.” But all the time Jumper felt in his bones + that Shadow would find that scent. “When he does, I'll run,” said Jumper + to himself. “I'll have at least a chance to dodge Whitey. I am afraid he + will catch me, but I'll have a chance. I won't have any chance at all if + Shadow finds me.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Shadow stopped running and sat up to look about with fierce + little eyes, all the time testing the air with his nose. Jumper's heart + sank. He knew that Shadow had caught a faint scent of some one. Then + Shadow began to run back and forth once more, but more carefully than + before. And then he started straight for where Jumper was crouching! + Jumper knew then that Shadow had found his trail. + </p> + <p> + Jumper drew a long breath and settled his long hind feet for a great jump, + hoping to so take Whitey the Owl by surprise that he might be able to get + away. And as Jumper did this, he looked over to that stump where Whitey + had been sitting so long. Whitey was just leaving it on his great silent + wings, and his fierce yellow eyes were fixed in the direction of Shadow + the Weasel. He had seen that moving black spot which was the tip of + Shadow's tail. + </p> + <p> + Jumper didn't have time to jump before Whitey was swooping down at Shadow. + So Juniper just kept still and watched with eyes almost popping from his + head with fear and excitement. + </p> + <p> + Shadow hadn't seen Whitey until just as Whitey was reaching for him with + his great cruel claws. Now if there is any one who can move more quickly + than Shadow the Weasel I don't know who it is. Whitey's claws closed on + nothing but snow; Shadow had dodged. Then began a game, Whitey swooping + and Shadow dodging, and all the time they were getting farther and farther + from where Jumper was. + </p> + <p> + The instant it was safe to do so, Jumper took to his long heels and the + way he disappeared, lipperty-lipperty-lip, was worth seeing. Whitey the + Snowy Owl had saved him from Shadow the Weasel and didn't know it. An + enemy had proved to be a friend. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII: Whitefoot Decides Quickly + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your mind made up a certain way + Be swift to act; do not delay. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + When Whitefoot had discovered Whitey the Snowy Owl, he had dodged down in + the little hole in the snow beside which he had been sitting. He had not + been badly frightened. But he was somewhat upset. Yes, sir, he was + somewhat upset. You see, he had so many enemies to watch out for, and here + was another. + </p> + <p> + “Just as if I didn't have troubles enough without having this white robber + to add to them,” grumbled Whitefoot. “Why doesn't he stay where he + belongs, way up in the Far North? It must be that food is scarce up there. + Well, now that I know he is here, he will have to be smarter than I think + he is to catch me. I hope Jumper the Hare will have sense enough to keep + perfectly still. I've sometimes envied him his long legs, but I guess I am + better off than he is, at that. Once he has been seen by an enemy, only + those long legs of his can save him, but I have a hundred hiding-places + down under the snow. Whitey is watching the hole where I disappeared; he + thinks I'll come out there again after a while. I'll fool him.” + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot scampered along through a little tunnel and presently very + cautiously peeped out of another little round hole in the snow. Sure + enough, there was Whitey the Snowy Owl back to him on a stump, watching + the hole down which he had disappeared a few minutes before. Whitefoot + grinned. Then he looked over to where he had last seen Jumper. Jumper was + still there; it was clear that he hadn't moved, and so Whitey hadn't seen + him. Again Whitefoot grinned. Then he settled himself to watch patiently + for Whitey to become tired of watching that hole and fly away. + </p> + <p> + So it was that Whitefoot saw all that happened. He saw Whitey suddenly + sail out on silent wings from that stump and swoop with great claws + reaching for some one. And then he saw who that some one was,—Shadow + the Weasel! He saw Shadow dodge in the very nick of time. Then he watched + Whitey swoop again and again as Shadow dodged this way and that way. + Finally both disappeared amongst the trees. Then he turned just in time to + see Jumper the Hare bounding away with all the speed of his wonderful, + long legs. + </p> + <p> + Fear, the greatest fear he had known for a long time, took possession of + Whitefoot. “Shadow the Weasel!” he gasped and had such a thing been + possible he certainly would have turned pale. “Whitey won't catch him; + Shadow is too quick for him. And when Whitey has given up and flown away, + Shadow will come back. He probably had found the tracks of Jumper the Hare + and he will come back. I know him; he'll come back. Jumper is safe enough + from him now, because he has such a long start, but Shadow will be sure to + find one of my holes in the snow. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What shall I do?” + </p> + <p> + You see Shadow the Weasel is the one enemy that can follow Whitefoot into + most of his hiding-places. + </p> + <p> + For a minute or two Whitefoot sat there, shaking with fright. Then he made + up his mind. “I'll get away from here before he returns,” thought + Whitefoot. “I've got to. I've spent a comfortable winter here so far, but + there will be no safety for me here any longer. I don't know where to go, + but anywhere will be better than here now.” + </p> + <p> + Without waiting another second, Whitefoot scampered away. And how he did + hope that his scent would have disappeared by the time Shadow returned. If + it hadn't, there would be little hope for him and he knew it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV: Shadows Return + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He little gains and has no pride + Who from his purpose turns aside. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Shadow the Weasel believes in persistence. When he sets out to do a thing, + he keeps at it until it is done or he knows for a certainty it cannot be + done. He is not easily discouraged. This is one reason he is so feared by + the little people he delights to hunt. They know that once he gets on + their trail, they will be fortunate indeed if they escape him. + </p> + <p> + When Whitey the Snowy Owl swooped at him and so nearly caught him, he was + not afraid as he dodged this way and that way. Any other of the little + people with the exception of his cousin, Billy Mink, would have been + frightened half to death. But Shadow was simply angry. He was angry that + any one should try to catch him. He was still more angry because his hunt + for Jumper the Hare was interfered with. You see, he had just found + Jumper's trail when Whitey swooped at him. + </p> + <p> + So Shadow's little eyes grew red with rage as he dodged this way and that + and was gradually driven away from the place where he had found the trail + of Jumper the Hare. At last he saw a hole in an old log and into this he + darted. Whitey couldn't get him there. Whitey knew this and he knew, too, + that waiting for Shadow to come out again would be a waste of time. So + Whitey promptly flew away. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he disappeared when Shadow popped out of that hole, for he had + been peeping out and watching Whitey. Without a moment's pause he turned + straight back for the place where he had found the trail of Jumper the + Hare. He had no intention of giving up that hunt just because he had been + driven away. Straight to the very spot where Whitey had first swooped at + him he ran, and there once more his keen little nose took up the trail of + Jumper. It led him straight to the foot of the tree where Jumper had + crouched so long. + </p> + <p> + But, as you know, Jumper wasn't there then. Shadow ran in a circle and + presently he found where Jumper had landed on the snow at the end of that + first bound. Shadow snarled. He understood exactly what had happened. + </p> + <p> + “Jumper was under that tree when that white robber from the Far North + tried to catch me, and he took that chance to leave in a hurry. I can tell + that by the length of this jump. Probably he is still going. It is useless + to follow him because he has too long a start,” said Shadow, and he + snarled again in rage and disappointment. + </p> + <p> + Then, for such is his way, he wasted no more time or thought on Jumper the + Hare. Instead he began to look for other trails. So it was that he found + one of the little holes of Whitefoot the Wood Mouse. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! So this is where Whitefoot has been living this winter!” he + exclaimed. Once more his eyes glowed red, but this time with eagerness and + the joy of the hunt. He plunged down into that little hole in the snow. + Down there the scent of Whitefoot was strong. Shadow followed it until it + led out of another little hole in the snow. But there he lost it. You see, + it was so long since Whitefoot had hurriedly left that the scent on the + surface had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Shadow ran swiftly this way and that way in a big circle, but he couldn't + find Whitefoot's trail again. Snarling with anger and disappointment, he + returned to the little hole in the snow and vanished. Then he followed all + Whitefoot's little tunnels. He found Whitefoot's nest. He found his store + of seeds. But he didn't find Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “He'll come back,” muttered Shadow, and curled up in Whitefoot's nest to + wait. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV: Whitefoots Dreadful Journey + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Danger may be anywhere, + So I expect it everywhere. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Whitefoot the Wood Mouse was terribly frightened. Yes, sir, he was + terribly frightened. It was a long, long time since he had been as + frightened as he now was. He is used to frights, is Whitefoot. He has them + every day and every night, but usually they are sudden frights, quickly + over and as quickly forgotten. + </p> + <p> + This fright was different. You see Whitefoot had caught a glimpse of + Shadow the Weasel. And he knew that if Shadow returned he would be sure to + find the little round holes in the snow that led down to Whitefoot's + private little tunnels underneath. + </p> + <p> + The only thing for Whitefoot to do was to get just as far from that place + as he could before Shadow should return. And so poor little Whitefoot + started out on a journey that was to take him he knew not where. All he + could do was to go and go and go until he could find a safe hiding-place. + </p> + <p> + My, my, but that was a dreadful journey! Every time a twig snapped, + Whitefoot's heart seemed to jump right up in his throat. Every time he saw + a moving shadow, and the branches of the trees moving in the wind were + constantly making moving shadows on the snow, he dodged behind a tree + trunk or under a piece of bark or wherever he could find a hiding-place. + </p> + <p> + You see, Whitefoot has so many enemies always looking for him that he + hides whenever he sees anything moving. When at home, he is forever + dodging in and out of his hiding-places. So, because everything was + strange to him, and because of the great fear of Shadow the Weasel, he + suspected everything that moved and every sound he heard. For a long way + no one saw him, for no one was about. Yet all that way Whitefoot twisted + and dodged and darted from place to place and was just as badly frightened + as if there had been enemies all about. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!” he kept saying over and over to himself. + “Wherever shall I go? Whatever shall I do? However shall I get enough to + eat? I won't dare go back to get food from my little storehouses, and I + shall have to live in a strange place where I won't know where to look for + food. I am getting tired. My legs ache. I 'm getting hungry. I want my + nice, warm, soft bed. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!” + </p> + <p> + But in spite of his frights, Whitefoot kept on. You see, he was more + afraid to stop than he was to go on. He just had to get as far from Shadow + the Weasel as he could. Being such a little fellow, what would be a short + distance for you or me is a long distance for Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + And so that journey was to him very long indeed. Of course, it seemed + longer because of the constant frights which came one right after another. + It really was a terrible journey. Yet if he had only known it, there + wasn't a thing along the whole way to be afraid of. You know it often + happens that people are frightened more by what they don't know than by + what they do know. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI: Whitefoot Climbs A Tree + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I'd rather be frightened With no cause for fear + Than fearful of nothing When danger is near. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Whitefoot kept on going and going. Every time he thought that he was so + tired he must stop, he would think of Shadow the Weasel and then go on + again. By and by he became so tired that not even the thought of Shadow + the Weasel could make him go much farther. So he began to look about for a + safe hiding-place in which to rest. + </p> + <p> + Now the home which he had left had been a snug little room beneath the + roots of a certain old stump. There he had lived for a long time in the + greatest comfort. Little tunnels led to his storehouses and up to the + surface of the snow. It had been a splendid place and one in which he had + felt perfectly safe until Shadow the Weasel had appeared. Had you seen him + playing about there, you would have thought him one of the little people + of the ground, like his cousin Danny Meadow Mouse. + </p> + <p> + But Whitefoot is quite as much at home in trees as on the ground. In fact, + he is quite as much at home in trees as is Chatterer the Red Squirrel, and + a lot more at home in trees than is Striped Chipmunk, although Striped + Chipmunk belongs to the Squirrel family. So now that he must find a + hiding-place, Whitefoot decided that he would feel much safer in a tree + than on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “If only I can find a hollow tree,” whimpered Whitefoot. “I will feel ever + so much safer in a tree than hiding in or near the ground in a strange + place.” + </p> + <p> + So Whitefoot began to look for a dead tree. You see, he knew that there + was more likely to be a hollow in a dead tree than in a living tree. By + and by he came to a tall, dead tree. He knew it was a dead tree, because + there was no bark on it. But, of course, he couldn't tell whether or not + that tree was hollow. I mean he couldn't tell from the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” he whimpered again. “Oh, dear! I suppose I will have to climb + this, and I am so tired. It ought to be hollow. There ought to be splendid + holes in it. It is just the kind of a tree that Drummer the Woodpecker + likes to make his house in. I shall be terribly disappointed if I don't + find one of his houses somewhere in it, but I wish I hadn't got to climb + it to find out. Well, here goes.” + </p> + <p> + He looked anxiously this way. He looked anxiously that way. He looked + anxiously the other way. In fact, he looked anxiously every way. + </p> + <p> + But he saw no one and nothing to be afraid of, and so he started up the + tree. + </p> + <p> + He was half-way up when, glancing down, he saw a shadow moving across the + snow. Once more Whitefoot's heart seemed to jump right up in his throat. + That shadow was the shadow of some one flying. There couldn't be the least + bit of doubt about it. Whitefoot flattened himself against the side of the + tree and peeked around it. He was just in time to see a gray and black and + white bird almost the size of Sammy Jay alight in the very next tree. He + had come along near the ground and then risen sharply into the tree. His + bill was black, and there was just a tiny hook on the end of it. Whitefoot + knew who it was. It was Butcher the Shrike. Whitefoot shivered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII: Whitefoot Finds A Hole Just In Time + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Just in time, not just too late, + Will make you master of your fate. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Whitefoot, half-way up that dead tree, flattened himself against the trunk + and, with his heart going pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat with fright, peered around + the tree at an enemy he had not seen for so long that he had quite + forgotten there was such a one. It was Butcher the Shrike. Often he is + called just Butcher Bird. He did not look at all terrible. He was not + quite as big as Sammy Jay. He had no terrible claws like the Hawks and + Owls. There was a tiny hook at the end of his black bill, but it wasn't + big enough to look very dreadful. But you can not always judge a person by + looks, and Whitefoot knew that Butcher was one to be feared. + </p> + <p> + So his heart went pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat as he wondered if Butcher had seen + him. He didn't have to wait long to find out. Butcher flew to a tree back + of Whitefoot and then straight at him. Whitefoot dodged around to the + other side of the tree. Then began a dreadful game. At least, it was + dreadful to Whitefoot. This way and that way around the trunk of that tree + he dodged, while Butcher did his best to catch him. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot would not have minded this so much, had he not been so tired, + and had he known of a hiding-place close at hand. But he was tired, very + tired, for you remember he had had what was a very long and terrible + journey to him. He had felt almost too tired to climb that tree in the + first place to see if it had any holes in it higher up. Now he didn't know + whether to keep on going up or to go down. Two or three times he dodged + around the tree without doing either. Then he decided to go up. + </p> + <p> + Now Butcher was enjoying this game of dodge. If he should catch Whitefoot, + he would have a good dinner. If he didn't catch Whitefoot, he would simply + go hungry a little longer. So you see, there was a very big difference in + the feelings of Whitefoot and Butcher. Whitefoot had his life to lose, + while Butcher had only a dinner to lose. + </p> + <p> + Dodging this way and dodging that way, Whitefoot climbed higher and + higher. Twice he whisked around that tree trunk barely in time. All the + time he was growing more and more tired, and more and more discouraged. + Supposing he should find no hole in that tree! + </p> + <p> + “There must be one. There must be one,” he kept saying over and over to + himself, to keep his courage up. “I can't keep dodging much longer. If I + don't find a hole pretty soon, Butcher will surely catch me. Oh, dear! Oh, + dear!” + </p> + <p> + Just above Whitefoot was a broken branch. Only the stub of it remained. + The next time he dodged around the trunk he found himself just below that + stub. Oh, joy! There, close under that stub, was a round hole. Whitefoot + didn't hesitate a second. He didn't wait to find out whether or not any + one was in that hole. He didn't even think that there might be some one in + there. With a tiny little squeak of relief he darted in. He was just in + time. He was just in the nick of time. Butcher struck at him and just + missed him as he disappeared in that hole. Whitefoot had saved his life + and Butcher had missed a dinner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII: An Unpleasant Surprise + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Be careful never to be rude + Enough to thoughtlessly intrude. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + If ever anybody in the Great World felt relief and thankfulness, it was + Whitefoot when he dodged into that hole in the dead tree just as Butcher + the Shrike all but caught him. For a few minutes he did nothing but pant, + for he was quite out of breath. + </p> + <p> + “I was right,” he said over and over to himself, “I was right. I was sure + there must be a hole in this tree. It is one of the old houses of Drummer + the Woodpecker. Now I am safe.” + </p> + <p> + Presently he peeped out. He wanted to see if Butcher was watching outside. + He was just in time to see Butcher's gray and black and white coat + disappearing among the trees. Butcher was not foolish enough to waste time + watching for Whitefoot to come out. Whitefoot sighed happily. For the + first time since he had started on his dreadful journey he felt safe. + Nothing else mattered. He was hungry, but he didn't mind that. He was + willing to go hungry for the sake of being safe. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot watched until Butcher was out of sight. Then he turned to see + what that house was like. Right away he discovered that there was a soft, + warm bed in it. It was made of leaves, grass, moss, and the lining of + bark. It was a very fine bed indeed. + </p> + <p> + “My, my, my, but I am lucky,” said Whitefoot to himself. “I wonder who + could have made this fine bed. I certainly shall sleep comfortably here. + Goodness knows, I need a rest. If I can find food enough near here, I'll + make this my home. I couldn't ask for a better one.” + </p> + <p> + Chuckling happily, Whitefoot began to pull away the top of that bed so as + to get to the middle of it. And then he got a surprise. It was an + unpleasant surprise. It was a most unpleasant surprise. There was some one + in that bed! Yes, sir, there was some one curled up in a little round ball + in the middle of that fine bed. It was some one with a coat of the + softest, finest fur. Can you guess who it was? It was Timmy the Flying + Squirrel. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Whitefoot as if his heart flopped right over. You see at + first he didn't recognize Timmy. Whitefoot is himself so very timid that + his thought was to run; to get out of there as quickly as possible. But he + had no place to run to, so he hesitated. Never in all his life had + Whitefoot had a greater disappointment. He knew now that this splendid + house was not for him. + </p> + <p> + Timmy the Flying Squirrel didn't move. He remained curled up in a soft + little ball. He was asleep. Whitefoot remembered that Timmy sleeps during + the day and seldom comes out until the Black Shadows come creeping out + from the Purple Hills at the close of day. Whitefoot felt easier in his + mind then. Timmy was so sound asleep that he knew nothing of his visitor. + And so Whitefoot felt safe in staying long enough to get rested. Then he + would go out and hunt for another home. + </p> + <p> + So down in the middle of that soft, warm bed Timmy the Flying Squirrel, + curled up in a little round ball with his flat tail wrapped around him, + slept peacefully, and on top of that soft bed Whitefoot the Wood Mouse + rested and wondered what he should do next. Not in all the Green Forest + could two more timid little people be found than the two in that old home + of Drummer the Woodpecker. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX: Whitefoot Finds A Home At Last + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + True independence he has known + Whose home has been his very own. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Curled up in his splendid warm bed, Timmy the Flying Squirrel slept + peacefully. He didn't know he had a visitor. He didn't know that on top of + that same bed lay Whitefoot the Wood Mouse. Whitefoot wasn't asleep. No, + indeed! Whitefoot was too worried to sleep. He knew he couldn't stay in + that fine house because it belonged to Timmy. He knew that as soon as + Timmy awoke, he, Whitefoot, would have to get out. Where should he go? He + wished he knew. How he did long for the old home he had left. But when he + thought of that, he remembered Shadow the Weasel. It was better to be + homeless than to feel that at any minute Shadow the Weasel might appear. + </p> + <p> + It was getting late in the afternoon. Before long, jolly, round, red Mr. + Sun would go to bed behind the Purple Hills, and the Black Shadows would + come creeping through the Green Forest. Then Timmy the Flying Squirrel + would awake. “It won't do for me to be here then,” said Whitefoot to + himself. “I must find some other place before he wakes. If only I knew + this part of the Green Forest I might know where to go. As it is, I shall + have to go hunt for a new home and trust to luck. Did ever a poor little + Mouse have so much trouble?” + </p> + <p> + After awhile Whitefoot felt rested and peeped out of the doorway. No enemy + was to be seen anywhere. Whitefoot crept out and climbed a little higher + up in the tree. Presently he found another hole. He peeped inside and + listened long and carefully. He didn't intend to make the mistake of going + into another house where some one might be living. + </p> + <p> + At last, sure that there was no one in there, he crept in. Then he made a + discovery. There were beech nuts in there and there were seeds. + </p> + <p> + It was a storehouse! Whitefoot knew at once that it must be Timmy's + storehouse. Right away he realized how very, very hungry he was. Of + course, he had no right to any of those seeds or nuts. Certainly not! That + is, he wouldn't have had any right had he been a boy or girl. But it is + the law of the Green Forest that whatever any one finds he may help + himself to if he can. + </p> + <p> + So Whitefoot began to fill his empty little stomach with some of those + seeds. He ate and ate and ate and quite forgot all his troubles. Just as + he felt that he hadn't room for another seed, he heard the sound of claws + outside on the trunk of the tree. In a flash he knew that Timmy the Flying + Squirrel was awake, and that it wouldn't do to be found in there by him. + In a jiffy Whitefoot was outside. He was just in time. Timmy was almost up + to the entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Hi, there!” cried Timmy. “What were you doing in my storehouse?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I—I was looking for a new home,” stammered Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “You mean you were stealing some of my food,” snapped Timmy suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—I did take a few seeds because I was almost starved. But + truly I was looking for a new home,” replied Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “What was the matter with your old home?” demanded Timmy. + </p> + <p> + Then Whitefoot told Timmy all about how he had been obliged to leave his + old home because of Shadow the Weasel, of the terrible journey he had had, + and how he didn't know where to go or what to do. Timmy listened + suspiciously at first, but soon he made up his mind that Whitefoot was + telling the truth. The mere mention of Shadow the Weasel made him very + sober. + </p> + <p> + He scratched his nose thoughtfully. “Over in that tall, dead stub you can + see from here is an old home of mine,” said he. “No one lives in it now. I + guess you can live there until you can find a better home. But remember to + keep away from my storehouse.” + </p> + <p> + So it was that Whitefoot found a new home. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX: Whitefoot Makes Himself At Home + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Look not too much on that behind + Lest to the future you be blind. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Whitefoot didn't wait to be told twice of that empty house. He thanked + Timmy and then scampered over to that stub as fast as his legs would take + him. Up the stub he climbed, and near the top he found a little round + hole. Timmy had said no one was living there now, and so Whitefoot didn't + hesitate to pop inside. + </p> + <p> + There was even a bed in there. It was an old bed, but it was dry and soft. + It was quite clear that no one had been in there for a long time. With a + little sigh of pure happiness, Whitefoot curled up in that bed for the + sleep he so much needed. His stomach was full, and once more he felt safe. + The very fact that this was an old house in which no one had lived for a + long time made it safer. Whitefoot knew that those who lived in that part + of the Green Forest probably knew that no one lived in that old stub, and + so no one was likely to visit it. + </p> + <p> + He was so tired that he slept all night. Whitefoot is one of those who + sleeps when he feels sleepy, whether it be by day or night. He prefers the + night to be out and about in, because he feels safer then, but he often + comes out by day. So when he awoke in the early morning, he promptly went + out for a look about and to get acquainted with his new surroundings. + </p> + <p> + Just a little way off was the tall, dead tree in which Timmy the Flying + Squirrel had his home. Timmy was nowhere to be seen. You see, he had been + out most of the night and had gone to bed to sleep through the day. + Whitefoot thought longingly of the good things in Timmy's storehouse in + that same tree, but decided that it would be wisest to keep away from + there. So he scurried about to see what he could find for a breakfast. It + didn't take him long to find some pine cones in which a few seeds were + still clinging. These would do nicely. Whitefoot ate what he wanted and + then carried some of them back to his new home in the tall stub. + </p> + <p> + Then he went to work to tear to pieces the old bed in there and make it + over to suit himself. It was an old bed of Timmy the Flying Squirrel, for + you know this was Timmy's old house. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot soon had the bed made over to suit him. And when this was done + he felt quite at home. Then he started out to explore all about within a + short distance of the old stub. He wanted to know every hole and every + possible hiding-place all around, for it is on such knowledge that his + life depends. + </p> + <p> + When at last he returned home he was very well satisfied. “It is going to + be a good place to live,” said he to himself. “There are plenty of + hiding-places and I am going to be able to find enough to eat. It will be + very nice to have Timmy the Flying Squirrel for a neighbor. I am sure he + and I will get along together very nicely. I don't believe Shadow the + Weasel, even if he should come around here, would bother to climb up this + old stub. He probably would expect to find me living down in the ground or + close to it, anyway. I certainly am glad that I am such a good climber. + Now if Buster Bear doesn't come along in the spring and pull this old stub + over, I'll have as fine a home as any one could ask for.” + </p> + <p> + And then, because happily it is the way with the little people of the + Green Forest and the Green Meadows, Whitefoot forgot all about his + terrible journey and the dreadful time he had had in finding his new home. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI: Whitefoot Envies Timmy + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A useless thing is envy; + A foolish thing to boot. + Why should a Fox who has a bark + Want like an Owl to hoot? +</pre> + <p> + Whitefoot was beginning to feel quite at home. He would have been wholly + contented but for one thing,—he had no well-filled storehouse. This + meant that each day he must hunt for his food. + </p> + <p> + It wasn't that Whitefoot minded hunting for food. He would have done that + anyway, even though he had had close at hand a store-house with plenty in + it. But he would have felt easier in his mind. He would have had the + comfortable feeling that if the weather turned so bad that he could not + easily get out and about, he would not have to go hungry. + </p> + <p> + But Whitefoot is a happy little fellow and wisely made the best of things. + At first he came out very little by day. He knew that there were many + sharp eyes watching for him, and that he was more likely to be seen in the + light of day than when the Black Shadows had crept all through the Green + Forest. + </p> + <p> + He would peek out of his doorway and watch for chance visitors in the + daytime. Twice he saw Butcher the Shrike alight a short distance from the + tree in which Timmy lived. He knew Butcher had not forgotten that he had + chased a badly frightened Mouse into a hole in that tree. Once he saw + Whitey the Snowy Owl and so knew that Whitey had not yet returned to the + Far North. Once Reddy Fox trotted along right past the foot of the old + stub in which Whitefoot lived, and didn't even suspect that he was + anywhere near. Twice he saw Old Man Coyote trotting past, and once Terror + the Goshawk alighted on that very stub, and sat there for half an hour. + </p> + <p> + So Whitefoot formed the habit of doing just what Timmy the Flying Squirrel + did; he remained in his house for most of the day and came out when the + Black Shadows began to creep in among the trees. Timmy came out about the + same time, and they had become the best of friends. + </p> + <p> + Now Whitefoot is not much given to envying others, but as night after + night he watched Timmy a little envy crept into his heart in spite of all + he could do. Timmy would nimbly climb to the top of a tree and then jump. + Down he would come in a long beautiful glide, for all the world as if he + were sliding on the air. + </p> + <p> + The first time Whitefoot saw him do it he held his breath. He really + didn't know what to make of it. The nearest tree to the one from which + Timmy had jumped was so far away that it didn't seem possible any one + without wings could reach it without first going to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” squeaked Whitefoot. “Oh! he'll kill himself! He surely will kill + himself! He'll break his neck!” But Timmy did nothing of the kind. He + sailed down, down, down and alighted on that distant tree a foot or two + from the bottom; and without stopping a second scampered up to the top of + that tree and once more jumped. Whitefoot had hard work to believe his own + eyes. Timmy seemed to be jumping just for the pleasure of it. As a matter + of fact, he was. He was getting his evening exercise. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot sighed. “I wish I could jump like that,” said he to himself. “I + wouldn't ever be afraid of anybody if I could jump like that. I envy + Timmy. I do so.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII: Timmy Proves To Be A True Neighbor + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He proves himself a neighbor true + Who seeks a kindly deed to do. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Occasionally Timmy the Flying Squirrel came over to visit Whitefoot. If + Whitefoot was in his house he always knew when Timmy arrived. He would + hear a soft thump down near the bottom of the tall stub. He would know + instantly that thump was made by Timmy striking the foot of the stub after + a long jump from the top of a tree. Whitefoot would poke his head out of + his doorway and there, sure enough, would be Timmy scrambling up towards + him. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot had grown to admire Timmy with all his might. It seemed to him + that Timmy was the most wonderful of all the people he knew. You see there + was none of the others who could jump as Timmy could. Timmy on his part + enjoyed having Whitefoot for a neighbor. Few of the little people of the + Green Forest are more timid than Timmy the Flying Squirrel, but here was + one beside whom Timmy actually felt bold. It was such a new feeling that + Timmy enjoyed it. + </p> + <p> + So it was that in the dusk of early evening, just after the Black Shadows + had come creeping out from the Purple Hills across the Green Meadows and + through the Green Forest, these two little neighbors would start out to + hunt for food. Whitefoot never went far from the tall, dead stub in which + he was now living. He didn't dare to. He wanted to be where at the first + sign of danger he could scamper back there to safety. Timmy would go some + distance, but he was seldom gone long. He liked to be where he could watch + and talk with Whitefoot. You see Timmy is very much like other people,—he + likes to gossip a little. + </p> + <p> + One evening Whitefoot had found it hard work to find enough food to fill + his stomach. He had kept going a little farther and a little farther from + home. Finally he was farther from it than he had ever been before. Timmy + had filled his stomach and from near the top of a tree was watching + Whitefoot. Suddenly what seemed like a great Black Shadow floated right + over the tree in which Timmy was sitting, and stopped on the top of a + tall, dead tree. It was Hooty the Owl, and it was simply good fortune that + Timmy happened to see him. Timmy did not move. He knew that he was safe so + long as he kept perfectly still. He knew that Hooty didn't know he was + there. Unless he moved, those great eyes of Hooty's, wonderful as they + were, would not see him. + </p> + <p> + Timmy looked over to where he had last seen Whitefoot. There he was + picking out seeds from a pine cone on the ground. The trunk of a tree was + between him and Hooty. But Timmy knew that Whitefoot hadn't seen Hooty, + and that any minute he might run out from behind that tree. If he did + Hooty would see him, and silently as a shadow would swoop down and catch + him. What was to be done? + </p> + <p> + “It's no business of mine,” said Timmy to himself. “Whitefoot must look + out for himself. It is no business of mine at all. Perhaps Hooty will fly + away before Whitefoot moves. I don't want anything to happen to Whitefoot, + but if something does, it will be his own fault; he should keep better + watch.” + </p> + <p> + For a few minutes nothing happened. Then Whitefoot finished the last seed + in that cone and started to look for more. Timmy knew that in a moment + Hooty would see Whitefoot. What do you think Timmy did? He jumped. Yes, + sir, he jumped. Down, down, down, straight past the tree on which sat + Hooty the Owl, Timmy sailed. Hooty saw him. Of course. He couldn't help + but see him. He spread his great wings and was after Timmy in an instant. + Timmy struck near the foot of a tree and without wasting a second darted + around to the other side. He was just in time. Hooty was already reaching + for him. Up the tree ran Timmy and jumped again. Again Hooty was too late. + And so Timmy led Hooty the Owl away from Whitefoot the Wood Mouse. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII: Whitefoot Spends A Dreadful Night + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Pity those who suffer fright + In the dark and stilly night. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + One night of his life Whitefoot will never forget so long as he lives. + Even now it makes him shiver just to think of it. Yes, sir, he shivers + even now whenever he thinks of that night. The Black Shadows had come + early that evening, so that it was quite dusk when Whitefoot crept out of + his snug little bed and climbed up to the round hole which was the doorway + of his home. He had just poked his nose out that little round doorway when + there was the most terrible sound. It seemed to him as if it was in his + very ears, so loud and terrible was it. It frightened him so that he + simply let go and tumbled backward down inside his house. Of course it + didn't hurt him any, for he landed on his soft bed. + </p> + <p> + “Whooo-hoo-hoo, whooo-hoo!” came that terrible sound again, and Whitefoot + shook until his little teeth rattled. At least, that is the way it seemed + to him. It was the voice of Hooty the Owl, and Whitefoot knew that Hooty + was sitting on the top of that very stub. He was, so to speak, on the roof + of Whitefoot's house. + </p> + <p> + Now in all the Green Forest there is no sound that strikes terror to the + hearts of the little people of feathers and fur equal to the hunting call + of Hooty the Owl. Hooty knows this. No one knows it better than he does. + That is why he uses it. He knows that many of the little people are + asleep, safely hidden away. He knows that it would be quite useless for + him to simply look for them. He would starve before he could find a dinner + in that way. But he knows that any one wakened from sleep in great fright + is sure to move, and if they do this they are almost equally sure to make + some little sound. His ears are so wonderful that they can catch the + faintest sound and tell exactly where it comes from. So he uses that + terrible hunting cry to frighten the little people and make them move. + </p> + <p> + Now Whitefoot knew that he was safe. Hooty couldn't possibly get at him, + even should he find out that he was in there. There was nothing to fear, + but just the same, Whitefoot shivered and shook and jumped almost out of + his skin every time that Hooty hooted. He just couldn't help it. + </p> + <p> + “He can't get me. I know he can't get me. I'm perfectly safe. I'm just as + safe as if he were miles away. There's nothing to be afraid of. It is + silly to be afraid. Probably Hooty doesn't even know I am inside here. + Even if he does, it doesn't really matter.” Whitefoot said these things to + himself over and over again. Then Hooty would send out that fierce, + terrible hunting call and Whitefoot would jump and shake just as before. + </p> + <p> + After awhile all was still. Gradually Whitefoot stopped trembling. He + guessed that Hooty had flown away. Still he remained right where he was + for a very long time. He didn't intend to foolishly take any chances. So + he waited and waited and waited. + </p> + <p> + At last he was sure that Hooty had left. Once more he climbed up to his + little round doorway and there he waited some time before poking even his + nose outside. Then, just as he had made up his mind to go out, that + terrible sound rang out again, and just as before he tumbled heels over + head down on his bed. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot didn't go out that night at all. It was a moonlight night and + just the kind of a night to be out. Instead Whitefoot lay in his little + bed and shivered and shook, for all through that long night every once in + a while Hooty the Owl would hoot from the top of that stub. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV: Whitefoot The Wood Mouse Is Unhappy + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Unhappiness without a cause you never, never find; + It may be in the stomach, or it may be in the mind. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Whitefoot the Wood Mouse should have been happy, but he wasn't. Winter had + gone and sweet Mistress Spring had brought joy to all the Green Forest. + Every one was happy, Whitefoot no less so than his neighbors at first. Up + from the Sunny South came the feathered friends and at once began planning + new homes. Twitterings and songs filled the air. Joy was everywhere. Food + became plentiful, and Whitefoot became sleek and fat. That is, he became + as fat as a lively Wood Mouse ever does become. None of his enemies had + discovered his new home, and he had little to worry about. + </p> + <p> + But by and by Whitefoot began to feel less joyous. Day by day he grew more + and more unhappy. He no longer took pleasure in his fine home. He began to + wander about for no particular reason. He wandered much farther from home + than he had ever been in the habit of doing. At times he would sit and + listen, but what he was listening for he didn't know. “There is something + the matter with me, and I don't know what it is,” said Whitefoot to + himself forlornly. “It can't be anything I have eaten. I have nothing to + worry about. Yet there is something wrong with me. I'm losing my appetite. + Nothing tastes good any more. I want something, but I don't know what it + is I want.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to tell his troubles to his nearest neighbor, Timmy the Flying + Squirrel, but Timmy was too busy to listen. When Peter Rabbit happened + along, Whitefoot tried to tell him. But Peter himself was too happy and + too eager to learn all the news in the Green Forest to listen. No one had + any interest in Whitefoot's troubles. Every one was too busy with his own + affairs. + </p> + <p> + So day by day Whitefoot the Wood Mouse grew more and more unhappy, and + when the dusk of early evening came creeping through the Green Forest, he + sat about and moped instead of running about and playing as he had been in + the habit of doing. The beautiful song of Melody the Wood Thrush somehow + filled him with sadness instead of with the joy he had always felt before. + The very happiness of those about him seemed to make him more unhappy. + </p> + <p> + Once he almost decided to go hunt for another home, but somehow he + couldn't get interested even in this. He did start out, but he had not + gone far before he had forgotten all about what he had started for. Always + he had loved to run about and climb and jump for the pure pleasure of it, + but now he no longer did these things. He was unhappy, was Whitefoot. Yes, + sir, he was unhappy; and for no cause at all so far as he could see. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV: Whitefoot Finds Out What The Matter Was + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Pity the lonely, for deep in the heart + Is an ache that no doctor can heal by his art. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Of all the little people of the Green Forest Whitefoot seemed to be the + only one who was unhappy. And because he didn't know why he felt so he + became day by day more unhappy. Perhaps I should say that night by night + he became more unhappy, for during the brightness of the day he slept most + of the time. + </p> + <p> + “There is something wrong, something wrong,” he would say over and over to + himself. + </p> + <p> + “It must be with me, because everybody else is happy, and this is the + happiest time of all the year. I wish some one would tell me what ails me. + I want to be happy, but somehow I just can't be.” + </p> + <p> + One evening he wandered a little farther from home than usual. He wasn't + going anywhere in particular. He had nothing in particular to do. He was + just wandering about because somehow he couldn't remain at home. Not far + away Melody the Wood Thrush was pouring out his beautiful evening song. + Whitefoot stopped to listen. Somehow it made him more unhappy than ever. + Melody stopped singing for a few moments. It was just then that Whitefoot + heard a faint sound. It was a gentle drumming. Whitefoot pricked up his + ears and listened. There it was again. He knew instantly how that sound + was made. It was made by dainty little feet beating very fast on an old + log. Whitefoot had drummed that way himself many times. It was soft, but + clear, and it lasted only a moment. + </p> + <p> + Right then something very strange happened to Whitefoot. Yes, sir, + something very strange happened to Whitefoot. All in a flash he felt + better. At first he didn't know why. He just did, that was all. Without + thinking what he was doing, he began to drum himself. Then he listened. At + first he heard nothing. Then, soft and low, came that drumming sound + again. Whitefoot replied to it. All the time he kept feeling better. He + ran a little nearer to the place from which that drumming sound had come + and then once more drummed. At first he got no reply. + </p> + <p> + Then in a few minutes he heard it again, only this time it came from a + different place. Whitefoot became quite excited. He knew that that + drumming was done by another Wood Mouse, and all in a flash it came over + him what had been the matter with him. + </p> + <p> + “I have been lonely!” exclaimed Whitefoot. “That is all that has been the + trouble with me. I have been lonely and didn't know it. I wonder if that + other Wood Mouse has felt the same way.” + </p> + <p> + Again he drummed and again came that soft reply. Once more Whitefoot + hurried in the direction of it, and once more he was disappointed when the + next reply came from a different place. By now he was getting quite + excited. He was bound to find that other Wood Mouse. Every time he heard + that drumming, funny little thrills ran all over him. He didn't know why. + They just did, that was all. He simply must find that other Wood Mouse. He + forgot everything else. He didn't even notice where he was going. He would + drum, then wait for a reply. As soon as he heard it, he would scamper in + the direction of it, and then pause to drum again. Sometimes the reply + would be very near, then again it would be so far away that a great fear + would fill Whitefoot's heart that the stranger was running away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI: Love Fills The Heart Of Whitefoot + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Joyous all the winds that blow + To the heart with love aglow. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + It was a wonderful game of hide-and-seek that Whitefoot the Wood Mouse was + playing in the dusk of early evening. Whitefoot was “it” all the time. + That is, he was the one who had to do all the hunting. Just who he was + hunting for he didn't know. He knew it was another Wood Mouse, but it was + a stranger, and do what he would, he couldn't get so much as a glimpse of + this little stranger. He would drum with his feet and after a slight pause + there would be an answering drum. Then Whitefoot would run as fast as he + could in that direction only to find no one at all. Then he would drum + again and the reply would come from another direction. + </p> + <p> + Every moment Whitefoot became more excited. He forgot everything, even + danger, in his desire to see that little drummer. Once or twice he + actually lost his temper in his disappointment. But this was only for a + moment. He was too eager to find that little drummer to be angry very + long. + </p> + <p> + At last there came a time when there was no reply to his drumming. He + drummed and listened, then drummed again and listened. Nothing was to be + heard. There was no reply. Whitefoot's heart sank. + </p> + <p> + All the old lonesomeness crept over him again. He didn't know which way to + turn to look for that stranger. When he had drummed until he was tired, he + sat on the end of an old log, a perfect picture of disappointment. He was + so disappointed that he could have cried if it would have done any good. + </p> + <p> + Just as he had about made up his mind that there was nothing to do but to + try to find his way home, his keen little ears caught the faintest rustle + of dry leaves. Instantly Whitefoot was alert and watchful. Long ago he had + learned to be suspicious of rustling leaves. They might have been rustled + by the feet of an enemy stealing up on him. No Wood Mouse who wants to + live long is ever heedless of rustling leaves. As still as if he couldn't + move, Whitefoot sat staring at the place from which that faint sound had + seemed to come. For two or three minutes he heard and saw nothing. Then + another leaf rustled a little bit to one side. Whitefoot turned like a + flash, his feet gathered under him ready for a long jump for safety. + </p> + <p> + At first he saw nothing. Then he became aware of two bright, soft little + eyes watching him. He stared at them very hard and then all over him crept + those funny thrills he had felt when he had first heard the drumming of + the stranger. He knew without being told that those eyes belonged to the + little drummer with whom he had been playing hide and seek so long. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot held his breath, he was so afraid that those eyes would vanish. + Finally he rather timidly jumped down from the log and started toward + those two soft eyes. They vanished. Whitefoot's heart sank. He was tempted + to rush forward, but he didn't. He sat still. There was a slight rustle + off to the right. A little ray of moonlight made its way down through the + branches of the trees just there, and in the middle of the light spot it + made sat a timid little person. It seemed to Whitefoot that he was looking + at the most beautiful Wood Mouse in all the Great World. Suddenly he felt + very shy and timid himself. + </p> + <p> + “Who—who—who are you?” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “I am little Miss Dainty,” replied the stranger bashfully. + </p> + <p> + Right then and there Whitefoot's heart was filled so full of something + that it seemed as if it would burst. It was love. All in that instant he + knew that he had found the most wonderful thing in all the Great World, + which of course is love. He knew that he just couldn't live without little + Miss Dainty. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII: Mr. And Mrs. Whitefoot + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When all is said and all is done + 'Tis only love of two makes one. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Little Miss Dainty, the most beautiful and wonderful Wood Mouse in all the + Great World, according to Whitefoot, was very shy and very timid. It took + Whitefoot a long time to make her believe that he really couldn't live + without her. At least, she pretended not to believe it. If the truth were + known, little Miss Dainty felt just the same way about Whitefoot. But + Whitefoot didn't know this, and I am afraid she teased him a great deal + before she told him that she loved him just as he loved her. + </p> + <p> + But at last little Miss Dainty shyly admitted that she loved Whitefoot + just as much as he loved her and was willing to become Mrs. Whitefoot. + Secretly she thought Whitefoot the most wonderful Wood Mouse in the Great + World, but she didn't tell him so. The truth is, she made him feel as if + she were doing him a great favor. + </p> + <p> + As for Whitefoot, he was so happy that he actually tried to sing. Yes, + sir, Whitefoot tried to sing, and he really did very well for a Mouse. He + was ready and eager to do anything that Mrs. Whitefoot wanted to do. + Together they scampered about in the moonlight, hunting for good things to + eat, and poking their inquisitive little noses into every little place + they could find. Whitefoot forgot that he had ever been sad and lonely. He + raced about and did all sorts of funny things from pure joy, but he never + once forgot to watch out for danger. In fact he was more watchful than + ever, for now he was watching for Mrs. Whitefoot as well as for himself. + </p> + <p> + At last Whitefoot rather timidly suggested that they should go see his + fine home in a certain hollow stub. Mrs. Whitefoot insisted that they + should go to her home. Whitefoot agreed on condition that she would + afterwards visit his home. So together they went back to Mrs. Whitefoot's + home. Whitefoot pretended that he liked it very much, but in his heart he + thought his own home was very much better, and he felt quite sure that + Mrs. Whitefoot would agree with him once she had seen it. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Whitefoot was very well satisfied with her old home and not at + all anxious to leave it. It was in an old hollow stump close to the + ground. It was just such a place as Shadow the Weasel would be sure to + visit should he happen along that way. It didn't seem at all safe to + Whitefoot. In fact it worried him. Then, too, it was not in such a + pleasant place as was his own home. Of course he didn't say this, but + pretended to admire everything. + </p> + <p> + Two days and nights they spent there. Then Whitefoot suggested that they + should visit his home. “Of course, my dear, we will not have to live there + unless you want to, but I want you to see it,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Whitefoot didn't appear at all anxious to go. She began to make + excuses for staying right where they were. You see, she had a great love + for that old home. They were sitting just outside the doorway talking + about the matter when Whitefoot caught a glimpse of a swiftly moving form + not far off. It was Shadow the Weasel. Neither of them breathed. Shadow + passed without looking in their direction. When he was out of sight, Mrs. + Whitefoot shivered. + </p> + <p> + “Let's go over to your home right away,” she whispered. “I've never seen + Shadow about here before, but now that he has been here once, he may come + again.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll start at once,” replied Whitefoot, and for once he was glad that + Shadow the Weasel was about. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII: Mrs. Whitefoot Decides On A Home + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When Mrs. Mouse makes up her mind + Then Mr. Mouse best get behind. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Whitefoot the Wood Mouse was very proud of his home. He showed it as he + led Mrs. Whitefoot there. He felt sure that she would say at once that + that would be the place for them to live. You remember that it was high up + in a tall, dead stub and had once been the home of Timmy the Flying + Squirrel. + </p> + <p> + “There, my dear, what do you think of that?” said Whitefoot proudly as + they reached the little round doorway. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Whitefoot said nothing, but at once went inside. She was gone what + seemed a long time to Whitefoot, anxiously waiting outside. You see, Mrs. + Whitefoot is a very thorough small person, and she was examining the + inside of that house from top to bottom. At last she appeared at the + doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think this is a splendid house?” asked Whitefoot rather + timidly. + </p> + <p> + “It is very good of its kind,” replied Mrs. Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot's heart sank. He didn't like the tone in which Mrs. Whitefoot + had said that. + </p> + <p> + “Just what do you mean, my dear?” Whitefoot asked. + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” replied Mrs. Whitefoot, in a most decided way, “that it is a + very good house for winter, but it won't do at all for summer. That is, it + won't do for me. In the first place it is so high up that if we should + have babies, I would worry all the time for fear the darlings would have a + bad fall. Besides, I don't like an inside house for summer. I think, + Whitefoot, we must look around and find a new home.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke Mrs. Whitefoot was already starting down the stub. Whitefoot + followed. + </p> + <p> + “All right, my dear, all right,” said he meekly. “You know best. This + seems to me like a very fine home, but of course, if you don't like it + we'll look for another.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Whitefoot said nothing, but led the way down the tree with Whitefoot + meekly following. Then began a patient search all about. Mrs. Whitefoot + appeared to know just what she wanted and turned up her nose at several + places Whitefoot thought would make fine homes. She hardly glanced at a + fine hollow log Whitefoot found. She merely poked her nose in at a + splendid hole beneath the roots of an old stump. Whitefoot began to grow + tired from running about and climbing stumps and trees and bushes. + </p> + <p> + He stopped to rest and lost sight of Mrs. Whitefoot. A moment later he + heard her calling excitedly. When he found her, she was up in a small + tree, sitting on the edge of an old nest a few feet above the ground. It + was a nest that had once belonged to Melody the Wood Thrush. Mrs. + Whitefoot was sitting on the edge of it, and her bright eyes snapped with + excitement and pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “I've found it!” she cried. “I've found it! It is just what I have been + looking for.” + </p> + <p> + “Found what?” Whitefoot asked. “I don't see anything but an old nest of + Melody's.” + </p> + <p> + “I've found the home we've been looking for, stupid,” retorted Mrs. + Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + Still Whitefoot stared. “I don't see any house,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Whitefoot stamped her feet impatiently. “Right here, stupid,” said + she. “This old nest will make us the finest and safest home that ever was. + No one will ever think of looking for us here. We must get busy at once + and fix it up.” + </p> + <p> + Even then Whitefoot didn't understand. Always he had lived either in a + hole in the ground, or in a hollow stump or tree. How they were to live in + that old nest he couldn't see at all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX: Making Over An Old House + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A home is always what you make it. + With love there you will ne'er forsake it. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Whitefoot climbed up to the old nest of Melody the Wood Thrush over the + edge of which little Mrs. Whitefoot was looking down at him. It took + Whitefoot hardly a moment to get up there, for the nest was only a few + feet above the ground in a young tree, and you know Whitefoot is a very + good climber. + </p> + <p> + He found Mrs. Whitefoot very much excited. She was delighted with that old + nest and she showed it. For his part, Whitefoot couldn't see anything but + a deserted old house of no use to any one. To be sure, it had been a very + good home in its time. It had been made of tiny twigs, stalks of old + weeds, leaves, little fine roots and mud. It was still quite solid, and + was firmly fixed in a crotch of the young tree. But Whitefoot couldn't see + how it could be turned into a home for a Mouse. He said as much. + </p> + <p> + Little Mrs. Whitefoot became more excited than ever. “You dear old + stupid,” said she, “whatever is the matter with you? Don't you see that + all we need do is to put a roof on, make an entrance on the under side, + and make a soft comfortable bed inside to make it a delightful home?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why we don't make a new home altogether,” protested + Whitefoot. “It seems to me that hollow stub of mine is ever so much better + than this. That has good solid walls, and we won't have to do a thing to + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you once before that it doesn't suit me for summer,” replied + little Mrs. Whitefoot rather sharply, because she was beginning to lose + patience. “It will be all right for winter, but winter is a long way off. + It may suit you for summer, but it doesn't suit me, and this place does. + So this is where we are going to live.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my dear. Certainly,” replied Whitefoot very meekly. “If you + want to live here, here we will live. But I must confess it isn't clear to + me yet how we are going to make a decent home out of this old nest.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you worry about that,” replied Mrs. Whitefoot. “You can get the + material, and I'll attend to the rest. Let us waste no time about it. I am + anxious to get our home finished and to feel a little bit settled. I have + already planned just what has got to be done and how we will do it. Now + you go look for some nice soft, dry weed stalks and strips of soft bark, + and moss and any other soft, tough material that you can find. Just get + busy and don't stop to talk.” + </p> + <p> + Of course Whitefoot did as he was told. He ran down to the ground and + began to hunt for the things Mrs. Whitefoot wanted. He was very particular + about it. He still didn't think much of her idea of making over that old + home of Melody's, but if she would do it, he meant that she should have + the very best of materials to do it with. + </p> + <p> + So back and forth from the ground to the old nest in the tree Whitefoot + hurried, and presently there was quite a pile of weed stalks and soft + grass and strips of bark in the old nest. Mrs. Whitefoot joined Whitefoot + in hunting for just the right things, but she spent more time in arranging + the material. Over that old nest she made a fine high roof. Down through + the lower side she cut a little round doorway just big enough for them to + pass through. Unless you happened to be underneath looking up, you never + would have guessed there was an entrance at all. Inside was a snug, round + room, and in this she made the softest and most comfortable of beds. As it + began to look more and more like a home, Whitefoot himself became as + excited and eager as Mrs. Whitefoot had been from the beginning. “It + certainly is going to be a fine home,” said Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I tell you it would be?” retorted Mrs. Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX: The Whitefoots Enjoy Their New Home + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + No home is ever mean or poor + Where love awaits you at the door. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + “There,” said Mrs. Whitefoot, as she worked a strip of white birch bark + into the roof of the new home she and Whitefoot had been building out of + the old home of Melody the Wood Thrush, “this finishes the roof. I don't + think any water will get through it even in the hardest rain.” + </p> + <p> + “It is wonderful,” declared Whitefoot admiringly. “Wherever did you learn + to build such a house as this?” + </p> + <p> + “From my mother,” replied Mrs. Whitefoot. “I was born in just such a home. + It makes the finest kind of a home for Wood Mouse babies.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't think there is danger that the wind will blow it down, do you?” + ventured Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I don't,” retorted little Mrs. Whitefoot scornfully. “Hasn't + this old nest remained right where it is for over a year? Do you suppose + that if I had thought there was the least bit of danger that it would blow + down, I would have used it? Do credit me with a little sense, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm, I do,” replied Whitefoot meekly. “You are the most sensible person + in all the Great World. I wasn't finding fault. You see, I have always + lived in a hole in the ground or a hollow stump, or a hole in a tree, and + I have not yet become used to a home that moves about and rocks as this + one does when the wind blows. But if you say it is all right, why of + course it is all right. Probably I will get used to it after awhile.” + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot did get used to it. After living in it for a few days, it no + longer seemed strange, and he no longer minded its swaying when the wind + blew. The fact is, he rather enjoyed it. So Whitefoot and Mrs. Whitefoot + settled down to enjoy their new home. Now and then they added a bit to it + here and there. + </p> + <p> + Somehow Whitefoot felt unusually safe, safer than he had ever felt in any + of his other homes. You see, he had seen several feathered folk alight + close to it and not give it a second look. He knew that they had seen that + home, but had mistaken it for what it had once been, the deserted home of + one of their own number. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot had chuckled. He had chuckled long and heartily. “If they make + that mistake,” said he to himself, “everybody else is likely to make it. + That home of ours is right in plain sight, yet I do believe it is safer + than the best hidden home I ever had before. Shadow the Weasel never will + think of climbing up this little tree to look at an old nest, and Shadow + is the one I am most afraid of.” + </p> + <p> + It was only a day or two later that Buster Bear happened along that way. + Now Buster is very fond of tender Wood Mouse. More than once Whitefoot had + had a narrow escape from Buster's big claws as they tore open an old stump + or dug into the ground after him. He saw Buster glance up at the new home + without the slightest interest in those shrewd little eyes of his. Then + Buster shuffled on to roll over an old log and lick up the ants he found + under it. Again Whitefoot chuckled. “Yes, sir,” said he. “It is the safest + home I 've ever had.” + </p> + <p> + So Whitefoot and little Mrs. Whitefoot were very happy in the home which + they had built, and for once in his life Whitefoot did very little + worrying. Life seemed more beautiful than it had ever been before. And he + almost forgot that there was such a thing as a hungry enemy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI: Whitefoot Is Hurt + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The hurts that hardest are to bear + Come from those for whom we care. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + Whitefoot was hurt. Yes, sir, Whitefoot was hurt. He was very much hurt. + It wasn't a bodily hurt; it was an inside hurt. It was a hurt that made + his heart ache. And to make it worse, he couldn't understand it at all. + One evening he had been met at the little round doorway by little Mrs. + Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “You can't come in,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Why can't I?” demanded Whitefoot, in the greatest surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind why. You can't, and that is all there is to it,” replied Mrs. + Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “You mean I can't ever come in any more?” asked Whitefoot. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that,” replied Mrs. Whitefoot, “but you can't come in + now, nor for some time. I think the best thing you can do is to go back to + your old home in the hollow stub.” + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot stared at little Mrs. Whitefoot quite as if he thought she had + gone crazy. Then he lost his temper. “I guess I'll come in if I want to,” + said he. “This home is quite as much my home as it is yours. You have no + right to keep me out of it. Just you get out of my way.” + </p> + <p> + But little Mrs. Whitefoot didn't get out of his way, and do what he would, + Whitefoot couldn't get in. You see she quite filled that little round + doorway. Finally, he had to give up trying. Three times he came back and + each time he found little Mrs. Whitefoot in the doorway. And each time she + drove him away. Finally, for lack of any other place to go to, he returned + to his old home in the old stub. Once he had thought this the finest home + possible, but now somehow it didn't suit him at all. The truth is he + missed little Mrs. Whitefoot, and so what had once been a home was now + only a place in which to hide and sleep. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot's anger did not last long. It was replaced by that hurt feeling. + He felt that he must have done something little Mrs. Whitefoot did not + like, but though he thought and thought he couldn't remember a single + thing. Several times he went back to see if Mrs. Whitefoot felt any + differently, but found she didn't. Finally she told him rather sharply to + go away and stay away. After that Whitefoot didn't venture over to the new + home. He would sometimes sit a short distance away and gaze at it + longingly. All the joy had gone out of the beautiful springtime for him. + He was quite as unhappy as he had been before he met little Mrs. + Whitefoot. You see, he was even more lonely than he had been then. And + added to this loneliness was that hurt feeling, which made it ever and + ever so much worse. It was very hard to bear. + </p> + <p> + “If I could understand it, it wouldn't be so bad,” he kept saying over and + over again to himself, “but I don't understand it. I don't understand why + Mrs. Whitefoot doesn't love me any more.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII: The Surprise + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Surprises sometimes are so great + You're tempted to believe in fate. + —Whitefoot. +</pre> + <p> + One never-to-be forgotten evening Whitefoot met Mrs. Whitefoot and she + invited him to come back to their home. Of course Whitefoot was delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Sh-h-h,” said little Mrs. Whitefoot, as Whitefoot entered the snug little + room of the house they had built in the old nest of Melody the Wood + Thrush. Whitefoot hesitated. In the first place, it was dark in there. In + the second place, he had the feeling that somehow that little bedroom + seemed crowded. It hadn't been that way the last time he was there. Mrs. + Whitefoot was right in front of him, and she seemed very much excited + about something. + </p> + <p> + Presently she crowded to one side. “Come here and look,” said she. + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot looked. In the middle of a soft bed of moss was a squirming mass + of legs and funny little heads. At first that was all Whitefoot could make + out. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think this is the most wonderful surprise that ever was?” + whispered little Mrs. Whitefoot. “Aren't they darlings? Aren't you proud + of them?” + </p> + <p> + By this time Whitefoot had made out that that squirming mass of legs and + heads was composed of baby Mice. He counted them. There were four. “Whose + are they, and what are they doing here?” Whitefoot asked in a queer voice. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you old stupid, they are yours,—yours and mine,” declared + little Mrs. Whitefoot. “Did you ever, ever see such beautiful babies? Now + I guess you understand why I kept you away from here.” + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot shook his head. “No,” said he, “I don't understand at all. I + don't see yet what you drove me away for.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you blessed old dear, there wasn't room for you when those babies + came; I had to have all the room there was. It wouldn't have done to have + had you running in and out and disturbing them when they were so tiny. I + had to be alone with them, and that is why I made you go off and live by + yourself. I am so proud of them, I don't know what to do. Aren't you + proud, Whitefoot? Aren't you the proudest Wood Mouse in all the Green + Forest?” + </p> + <p> + Of course Whitefoot should have promptly said that he was, but the truth + is, Whitefoot wasn't proud at all. You see, he was so surprised that he + hadn't yet had time to feel that they were really his. In fact, just then + he felt a wee bit jealous of them. It came over him that they would take + all the time and attention of little Mrs. Whitefoot. So Whitefoot didn't + answer that question. He simply sat and stared at those four squirming + babies. + </p> + <p> + Finally little Mrs. Whitefoot gently pushed him out and followed him. “Of + course,” said she, “there isn't room for you to stay here now. You will + have to sleep in your old home because there isn't room in here for both + of us and the babies too.” + </p> + <p> + Whitefoot's heart sank. He had thought that he was to stay and that + everything would be just as it had been before. “Can't I come over here + any more?” he asked rather timidly. + </p> + <p> + “What a foolish question!” cried little Mrs. Whitefoot. “Of course you + can. You will have to help take care of these babies. Just as soon as they + are big enough, you will have to help teach them how to hunt for food and + how to watch out for danger, and all the things that a wise Wood Mouse + knows. Why, they couldn't get along without you. Neither could I,” she + added softly. + </p> + <p> + At that Whitefoot felt better. And suddenly there was a queer swelling in + his heart. It was the beginning of pride, pride in those wonderful babies. + </p> + <p> + “You have given me the best surprise that ever was, my dear,” said + Whitefoot softly. “Now I think I will go and look for some supper.” + </p> + <p> + So now we will leave Whitefoot and his family. You see there are two very + lively little people of the Green Forest who demand attention and insist + on having it. They are Buster Bear's Twins, and this is to be the title of + the next book. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Whitefoot the Wood Mouse, by Thornton W. 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