WHITEFOOT THE WOOD MOUSE

BY

THORNTON W. BURGESS

CONTENTS

 I: Whitefoot Spends A Happy Winter II: Whitefoot Sees Queer Things III: Farmer Brown's Boy Becomes Acquainted IV: Whitefoot Grows Anxious V: The End Of Whitefoot's Worries VI: A Very Careless Jump VII: Whitefoot Gives Up Hope VIII: The Rescue IX: Two Timid Persons Meet X: The White Watchers XI: Jumper Is In Doubt XII: Whitey The Owl Saves Jumper XIII: Whitefoot Decides Quickly XIV: Shadows Return XV: Whitefoots Dreadful Journey XVI: Whitefoot Climbs A Tree XVII: Whitefoot Finds A Hole Just In Time XVIII: An Unpleasant Surprise XIX: Whitefoot Finds A Home At Last XX: Whitefoot Makes Himself At Home XXI: Whitefoot Envies Timmy XXII: Timmy Proves To Be A True Neighbor XXIII: Whitefoot Spends A Dreadful Night XXIV: Whitefoot The Wood Mouse Is Unhappy XXV: Whitefoot Finds Out What The Matter Was XXVI: Love Fills The Heart Of Whitefoot XXVII: Mr. And Mrs. Whitefoot XXVIII: Mrs. Whitefoot Decides On A Home XXIX: Making Over An Old House XXX: The Whitefoots Enjoy Their New Home XXXI: Whitefoot Is Hurt XXXII: The Surprise

CHAPTER I: Whitefoot Spends A Happy Winter

In all his short life Whitefoot the Wood Mouse never had spent sucha happy winter. Whitefoot is one of those wise little people whonever allow unpleasant things of the past to spoil their presenthappiness, and who never borrow trouble from the future. Whitefoot believes in getting the most from the present. The thingswhich are past are past, and that is all there is to it. There isno use in thinking about them. As for the things of the future, it will be time enough to think about them when they happen. 

If you and I had as many things to worry about as does Whitefoot theWood Mouse, we probably never would be happy at all. But Whitefootis happy whenever he has a chance to be, and in this he is wiserthan most human beings. You see, there is not one of all the littlepeople in the Green Forest who has so many enemies to watch out foras has Whitefoot. There are ever so many who would like nothingbetter than to dine on plump little Whitefoot. There are BusterBear and Billy Mink and Shadow the Weasel and Unc' Billy Possum andHooty the Owl and all the members of the Hawk family, not to mentionBlacky the Crow in times when other food is scarce. Reddy andGranny Fox and Old Man Coyote are always looking for him. 

So you see Whitefoot never knows at what instant he may have to runfor his life. That is why he is such a timid little fellow and isalways running away at the least little unexpected sound. In spiteof all this he is a happy little chap. 

It was early in the winter that Whitefoot found a little hole in acorner of Farmer Brown's sugar-house and crept inside to see what itwas like in there. It didn't take him long to decide that it wasthe most delightful place he ever had found. He promptly decided tomove in and spend the winter. In one end of the sugar-house wasa pile of wood. Down under this Whitefoot made himself a warm, comfortable nest. It was a regular castle to Whitefoot. He movedover to it the store of seeds he had laid up for winter use. 

Not one of his enemies ever thought of visiting the sugar-house insearch of Whitefoot, and they wouldn't have been able to get in ifthey had. When rough Brother North Wind howled outside, and sleetand snow were making other little people shiver, Whitefoot was warmand comfortable. There was all the room he needed or wanted inwhich 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'thave a single fright. Yes indeed, Whitefoot spent a happy winter. 

CHAPTER II: Whitefoot Sees Queer Things

Whitefoot had spent the winter undisturbed in Farmer Brown'ssugar-house. He had almost forgotten the meaning of fear. He hadcome to look on that sugar-house as belonging to him. It wasn'tuntil Farmer Brown's boy came over to prepare things for sugaringthat Whitefoot got a single real fright. The instant Farmer Brown'sboy opened the door, Whitefoot scampered down under the pile of woodto his snug little nest, and there he lay, listening to the strangesounds. At last he could stand it no longer and crept to a placewhere he could peep out and see what was going on. It didn't takehim long to discover that this great two-legged creature was notlooking for him, and right away he felt better. After a whileFarmer Brown's boy went away, and Whitefoot had the littlesugar-house to himself again. 

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. 

He felt still more anxious when next day Farmer Brown's boy returnedand became very busy putting things to right. Then Farmer Brownhimself came and strange things began to happen. It became as warmas in summer. You see Farmer Brown had built a fire under theevaporator. Whitefoot's curiosity kept him at a place where hecould peep out and watch all that was done. He saw Farmer Brown andFarmer Brown's boy pour pails of sap into a great pan. By and by adelicious odor filled the sugar-house. It didn't take him a greatwhile to discover that these two-legged creatures were so busy thathe had nothing to fear from them, and so he crept out to watch. Hesaw them draw the golden syrup from one end of the evaporator andfill shining tin cans with it. Day after day they did the samething. At night when they had left and all was quiet inside thesugar-house, Whitefoot stole out and found delicious crumbs wherethey had eaten their lunch. He tasted that thick golden stuff andfound it sweet and good. Later he watched them make sugar andnearly made himself sick that night when they had gone home, forthey had left some of that sugar where he could get at it. He didn't understand these queer doings at all. But he was nolonger afraid. 

CHAPTER III: Farmer Brown's Boy Becomes Acquainted

It didn't take Farmer Brown's boy long to discover that Whitefootthe Wood Mouse was living in the little sugar-house. He caughtglimpses of Whitefoot peeping out at him. Now Farmer Brown's boyis 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 timidlittle fellow than Whitefoot, and he thought it would be a fine thingto be able to win the confidence of such a shy little chap. 

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 scattereda lot of crumbs close to the pile of wood under which Whitefoot hadmade his home. Then he and Farmer Brown would go out to collect sap. When they returned not a crumb would be left. 

One day Farmer Brown's boy scattered some particularly delicious crumbs. Then, instead of going out, he sat down on a bench and keptperfectly still. Farmer Brown and Bowser the Hound went out. Of course Whitefoot heard them go out, and right away he poked hislittle 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 Whitefootdidn't see him. That was because Farmer Brown's boy didn't movethe least bit. Whitefoot ran out and at once began to eatthose delicious crumbs. When he had filled his little stomach, he began to carry the remainder back to his storehouse underneaththe woodpile. While he was gone on one of these trips, FarmerBrown's boy scattered more crumbs in a line that led right up to hisfoot. Right there he placed a big piece of bread crust. 

Whitefoot was working so hard and so fast to get all those deliciousbits of food that he took no notice of anything else until hereached that piece of crust. Then he happened to look up right intothe eyes of Farmer Brown's boy. With a frightened little squeakWhitefoot darted back, and for a long time he was afraid to come outagain. 

But Farmer Brown's boy didn't move, and at last Whitefoot couldstand the temptation no longer. He darted out halfway, scurriedback, 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'sboy did not move. 

For two or three days the same thing happened. By this time, Whitefoot had lost all fear. He knew that Farmer Brown's boy wouldnot harm him, and it was not long before he ventured to take a bitof food from Farmer Brown's boy's hand. After that Farmer Brown'sboy took care that no crumbs should be scattered on the ground. Whitefoot had to come to him for his food, and always Farmer Brown'sboy had something delicious for him. 

CHAPTER IV: Whitefoot Grows Anxious

 'Tis sad indeed to trust a friend Then have that trust abruptly end. --Whitefoot

I know of nothing that is more sad than to feel that a friend isno longer to be trusted. There came a time when Whitefoot theWood Mouse almost had this feeling. It was a very, very anxious timefor Whitefoot. 

You see, Whitefoot and Farmer Brown's boy had become the very bestof friends there in the little sugar-house. They had become suchgood friends that Whitefoot did not hesitate to take food from thehands of Farmer Brown's boy. Never in all his life had he had somuch to eat or such good things to eat. He was getting so fat thathis handsome little coat was uncomfortably tight. He ran aboutfearlessly while Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown's boy were makingmaple syrup and maple sugar. He had even lost his fear of Bowserthe Hound, for Bowser had paid no attention to him whatever. 

Now you remember that Whitefoot had made his home way down beneaththe great pile of wood in the sugar-house. Of course Farmer Brownand Farmer Brown's boy used that wood for the fire to boil the sapto make the syrup and sugar. Whitefoot thought nothing of thisuntil one day he discovered that his little home was no longer asdark as it had been. A little ray of light crept down between thesticks. Presently another little ray of light crept down betweenthe sticks. 

It was then that Whitefoot began to grow anxious. It was thenhe realized that that pile of wood was growing smaller and smaller, and if it kept on growing smaller, by and by there wouldn'tbe 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 thinkof any reason why that wood should be taken away, unless it wasto look for his little home. Farmer Brown's boy was just askind and friendly as ever, but all the time more and more lightcrept in, as the wood vanished. 

"Oh dear, what does it mean?" cried Whitefoot to himself. "They must be looking for my home, yet they have been so good to methat it is hard to believe they mean any harm. I do hope they will stoptaking this wood away. I won't have any hiding-place at all, andthen 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 happyand now I am so worried! Why can't happy times last always?"

CHAPTER V: The End Of Whitefoot's Worries

 You never can tell! You never can tell! Things going wrong will often end well. --Whitefoot. 

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 tolook to Whitefoot as if he would no longer have a snug, hiddenlittle home in Farmer Brown's sugar-house. The pile of wood underwhich he had made that snug little home was disappearing so fastthat it began to look as if in a little while there would be no woodat all. 

Whitefoot quite lost his appetite. He no longer came out to takefood from Farmer Brown's boy's hand. He stayed right in his snuglittle home and worried. 

Now Farmer Brown's boy had not once thought of the trouble he wasmaking. He wondered what had become of Whitefoot, and in his turnhe began to worry. He was afraid that something had happened to hislittle friend. He was thinking of this as he fed the sticks of woodto the fire for boiling the sap to make syrup and sugar. Finally, as he pulled away two big sticks, he saw something that made himwhistle with surprise. It was Whitefoot's nest which he had socleverly hidden way down underneath that pile of wood when he hadfirst moved into the sugar-house. With a frightened little squeak, Whitefoot ran out, scurried across the little sugar-house and outthough the open door. 

Farmer Brown's boy understood. He understood perfectly that littlepeople like Whitefoot want their homes hidden away in the dark. "Poor little chap, " said Farmer Brown's boy. "He had a regularcastle here and we have destroyed it. He's got the snuggest kind ofa little nest here, but he won't come back to it so long as it isright out in plain sight. He probably thinks we have been huntingfor this little home of his. Hello! Here's his storehouse!I've often wondered how the little rascal could eat so much, butnow I understand. He stored away here more than half of the goodthings I have given him. I am glad he did. If he hadn't, he mightnot come back, but I feel sure that to-night, when all is quiet, hewill come back to take away all his food. I must do something to keephim here. "

Farmer Brown's boy sat down to think things over. Then he gotan 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 theold box in the darkest corner of the sugar-house. Then he carried allWhitefoot's supplies over there and put them under the box. He wentoutside, and got some branches of hemlock and threw these in a littlepile over the box. After this he scattered some crumbs just outside. 

Late that night Whitefoot did come back. The crumbs led him to theold box. He crept inside. There was his snug little home! All ina second Whitefoot understood, and trust and happiness returned. 

CHAPTER VI: A Very Careless Jump

Whitefoot once more was happy. When he found his snug little nestand his store of food under that old box in the darkest corner ofFarmer Brown's sugar-house, he knew that Farmer Brown's boy musthave placed them there. It was better than the old place under thewoodpile. 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 littlesugar-house. Somehow he seemed to know right down inside that hishome would not again be disturbed. 

So he proceeded to rearrange his nest and to put all his suppliesof food in one corner of the old box. When everything was placedto suit him he ventured out, for now that he no longer fearedFarmer Brown's boy he wanted to see all that was going on. He likedto 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 explorethe 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 howhe laughed as he pulled it away. 

So, what with eating and sleeping and playing about, secure in thefeeling that no harm could come to him, Whitefoot was happier thanever before in his little life. He knew that Farmer Brown's boy andFarmer Brown and Bowser the Hound were his friends. He knew, too, that so long as they were about, none of his enemies would dare comenear. This being so, of course there was nothing to be afraid of. No harm could possibly come to him. At least, that is whatWhitefoot thought. 

But you know, enemies are not the only dangers to watch out for. Accidents will happen. When they do happen, it is very likely tobe 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 mishapsof his whole life. 

He had been running and jumping all around the inside of the littlesugar-house. He loves to run and jump, and he had been having justthe best time ever. Finally Whitefoot ran along the old bench andjumped from the end of it for a box standing on end, which FarmerBrown'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'tjump quite far enough. Right beside that box was a tin pail halffilled with sap. Instead of landing on the box, Whitefoot landedwith a splash in that pail of sap. 

CHAPTER VII: Whitefoot Gives Up Hope

Whitefoot had been in many tight places. Yes, indeed, Whitefoot hadbeen in many tight places. He had had narrow escapes of all kinds. But never had he felt so utterly hopeless as now. The moment helanded in that sap, Whitefoot began to swim frantically. He isn't aparticularly good swimmer, but he could swim well enough to keepafloat for a while. His first thought was to scramble up the sideof the tin pail, but when he reached it and tried to fasten hissharp little claws into it in order to climb, he discovered that hecouldn't. Sharp as they were, his little claws just slipped, andhis struggles to get up only resulted in tiring him out and inplunging him wholly beneath the sap. He came up choking andgasping. Then round and round inside that pail he paddled, stoppingevery two or three seconds to try to climb up that hateful, smooth, shiny wall. 

The more he tried to climb out, the more frightened he became. 

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. 

Whitefoot squeaked pitifully. He didn't want to drown. Of course not. He wanted to live. But unless he could get out of that pailvery soon, he would drown. He knew it. He knew that he couldn'thold on much longer. He knew that just as soon as he stoppedpaddling, he would sink. Already he was so tired from his franticefforts to escape that it seemed to him that he couldn't hold outany longer. But somehow he kept his legs moving, and so kept afloat. 

Just why he kept struggling, Whitefoot couldn't have told. It wasn'tbecause 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 feltsure that he had got to drown at last, he just wouldn't untilhe 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. 

CHAPTER VIII: The Rescue

When Whitefoot made the heedless jump that landed him in a pail halffilled with sap, no one else was in the little sugar-house. Whitefoot was quite alone. You see, Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown'sboy were out collecting sap from the trees, and Bowser the Hound waswith them. 

Farmer Brown's boy was the first to return. He came in just afterWhitefoot had given up all hope. He went at once to the fire toput more wood on. As he finished this job he heard the faintestof little squeaks. It was a very pitiful little squeak. FarmerBrown's boy stood perfectly still and listened. He heard it again. He knew right away that it was the voice of Whitefoot. 

"Hello!" exclaimed Farmer Brown's boy. "That sounds as ifWhitefoot is in trouble of some kind. I wonder where the littlerascal is. I wonder what can have happened to him. I must lookinto this. " Again Farmer Brown's boy heard that faint littlesqueak. It was so faint that he couldn't tell where it camefrom. Hurriedly and anxiously he looked all over the littlesugar-house, stopping every few seconds to listen for thatpitiful little squeak. It seemed to come from nowhere in particular. Also it was growing fainter. 

At last Farmer Brown's boy happened to stand still close to that tinpail half filled with sap. He heard the faint little squeak again andwith it a little splash. It was the sound of the little splash thatled him to look down. In a flash he understood what had happened. He saw poor little Whitefoot struggling feebly, and even as helooked Whitefoot's head went under. He was very nearly drowned. 

Stooping quickly, Farmer Brown's boy grabbed Whitefoot's long tailand pulled him out. Whitefoot was so nearly drowned that he didn't havestrength enough to even kick. A great pity filled the eyes of FarmerBrown'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 outof Whitefoot's nose and out of his mouth. Whitefoot began to gasp. Then Farmer Brown's boy spread his coat close by the fire, rolledWhitefoot up in his handkerchief and gently placed him on the coat. For some time Whitefoot lay just gasping. But presently his breathcame easier, and after a while he was breathing naturally. But hewas too weak and tired to move, so he just lay there while FarmerBrown's boy gently stroked his head and told him how sorry he was. 

Little by little Whitefoot recovered his strength. At last he couldsit up, and finally he began to move about a little, although he wasstill wobbly on his legs. Farmer Brown's boy put some bits of foodwhere Whitefoot could get them, and as he ate, Whitefoot's beautifulsoft eyes were filled with gratitude. 

CHAPTER IX: Two Timid Persons Meet

 Thus always you will meet life's test-- To do the thing you can do best. --Whitefoot. 

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'thave known it. You see, in his white coat Jumper was so exactlythe color of the snow that he looked like nothing more thana little heap of snow. 

Just in front of Juniper was a little round hole. He gave it noattention. It didn't interest him in the least. All through theGreen Forest were little holes in the snow. Jumper was so used tothem that he seldom noticed them. So he took no notice of this oneuntil something moved down in that hole. Jumper's eyes opened alittle wider and he watched. A sharp little face with very brighteyes filled that little round hole. Jumper moved just the tiniestbit, and in a flash that sharp little face with the bright eyesdisappeared. Jumper sat still and waited. After a long wait thesharp little face with bright eyes appeared again. "Don't befrightened, Whitefoot, " said Jumper softly. At the first word thesharp little face disappeared, but in a moment it was back, and thesharp little eyes were fixed on Jumper suspiciously. After a longstare the suspicion left them, and out of the little round hole cametrim little Whitefoot in a soft brown coat with white waistcoat andwith white feet and a long, slim tail. This winter he was notliving in Farmer Brown's sugarhouse. 

"Gracious, Jumper, how you did scare me!" said he. 

Jumper chuckled. "Whitefoot, I believe you are more timid than I am, "he replied. 

"Why shouldn't I be? I'm ever so much smaller, and I have more enemies, "retorted Whitefoot. 

"It is true you are smaller, but I am not so sure that you have moreenemies, " replied Jumper thoughtfully. "It sometimes seems to me thatI couldn't have more, especially in winter. "

"Name them, " commanded Whitefoot. 

"Hooty the Great Horned Owl, Yowler the Bob Cat, Old Man Coyote, Reddy Fox, Terror the Goshawk, Shadow the Weasel, Billy Mink. "Jumper paused. 

"Is that all?" demanded Whitefoot. 

"Isn't that enough?" retorted Jumper rather sharply. 

"I have all of those and Blacky the Crow and Butcher the Shrike andSammy Jay in winter, and Buster Hear and Jimmy Skunk and several ofthe Snake family in summer, " replied Whitefoot. "It seems to mesometimes as if I need eyes and ears all over me. Night and daythere is always some one hunting for poor little me. And then somefolks 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 maylaugh at me for being so easily frightened, but I don't care. That is what saves my life a dozen times a day. "

Jumper looked interested. "I hadn't thought of that, " said he. "I'm a very timid person myself, and sometimes I have been ashamed ofbeing so easily frightened. But come to think of it, I guess you areright; the more timid I am, the longer I am likely to live. "Whitefoot suddenly darted into his hole. Jumper didn't move, buthis eyes widened with fear. A great white bird had just alighted ona stump a short distance away. It was Whitey the Snowy Owl, downfrom the Far North. 

"There is another enemy we both forgot, " thought Jumper, and tried not to shiver. 

CHAPTER X: The White Watchers

 Much may be gained by sitting still If you but have the strength of will. --Whitefoot. 

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 asthe snow around them unless you had looked very closely. Then you mighthave seen two narrow black lines back of Jumper's head. They werethe tips of his ears, for these remain black. And near the upperpart of the white mound which was Whitey you might have seen tworound yellow spots, his eyes. 

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 asa feather. Both were waiting and watching. Jumper didn't movebecause he knew that Whitey was there. Whitey didn't move becausehe didn't want any one to know he was there, and didn't know thatJumper was there. Jumper was sitting still because he was afraid. Whitey was sitting still because he was hungry. 

So there they sat, each in plain sight of the other but only oneseeing the other. This was because Juniper had been fortunateenough to see Whitey alight on that stump. Jumper had been sittingstill when Whitey arrived, and so those fierce yellow eyes had notyet seen him. But had Jumper so much as lifted one of those longears, Whitey would have seen, and his great claws would have beenreaching for Jumper. 

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 almostwholly for safety. But there are times for running and times forsitting still, and this was a time for sitting still. He knew thatWhitey didn't know that he was anywhere near. But just the same itwas hard, very hard to sit there with one he so greatly fearedwatching so near. It seemed as if those fierce yellow eyes ofWhitey must see him. They seemed to look right through him. They made him shake inside. 

"I want to run. I want to run. I want to run, " Jumper kept sayingto 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 andstared danger in the face. He was sitting still to save his life. 

Whitey the Snowy Owl was sitting still to catch a dinner. I knowthat sounds queer, but it was so. He knew that so long as he satstill, he was not likely to be seen. It was for this purpose thatOld 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 havea better chance to catch food enough to keep him alive. 

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 whathe was doing now, --sitting perfectly still. Just before he hadalighted on that stump he had seen something move at the entranceto a little round hole in the snow. He was sure of it. 

"A Mouse, " thought Whitey, and alighted on that stump. "He saw meflying, but he'll forget about it after a while and will come outagain. He won't see me then if I don't move. And I won't moveuntil he is far enough from that hole for me to catch him before hecan get back to it. "

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. 

CHAPTER XI: Jumper Is In Doubt

 When doubtful what course to pursue 'Tis sometimes best to nothing do. --Whitefoot. 

Jumper the Hare was beginning to feel easier in his mind. He was nolonger shaking inside. In fact, he was beginning to feel quite safe. There he was in plain sight of Whitey the Snowy Owl, sitting motionlesson a stump only a short distance away, yet Whitey hadn't seen him. Whitey had looked straight at him many times, but because Jumperhad not moved so much as a hair Whitey had mistaken him for alittle heap of snow. 

"All I have to do is to keep right on sitting perfectly still, andI'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 thatwould draw Whitey's attention to me, and he wouldn't look twiceat a Wood Mouse when there was a chance to get a Hare for his dinner. 

"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 notbe easily seen when there is snow on the ground, and at the sametime she has given one of those I fear most a white coat so that hemay not be easily seen, either. It certainly is a queer world. "

Jumper forgot that Whitey was only a chance visitor from the Far Northand that it was only once in a great while that he came downthere, while up in the Far North where he belonged nearly everybodywas dressed in white. 

Jumper hadn't moved once, but once in a while Whitey turned hisgreat round head for a look all about in every direction. But itwas done in such a way that only eyes watching him sharply wouldhave noticed it. Most of the time he kept his fierce yellow eyesfixed on the little hole in the snow in which Whitefoot haddisappeared. You know Whitey can see by day quite as well as anyother bird. 

Jumper, having stopped worrying about himself, began to worry aboutWhitefoot. He knew that Whitefoot had seen Whitey arrive on thatstump and that was why he had dodged back into his hole and sincethen had not even poked his nose out. But that had been so long agothat by this time Whitefoot must think that Whitey had gone on abouthis business, and Jumper expected to see Whitefoot appear any moment. What Jumper didn't know was that Whitefoot's bright little eyeshad all the time been watching Whitey from another little holein the snow some distance away. A tunnel led from this little holeto the first little hole. 

Suddenly off among the trees something moved. At least, Jumper thought he saw something move. Yes, there it was, a littleblack spot moving swiftly this way and that way over the snow. Jumper stared very hard. And then his heart seemed to jump right upin his throat. It did so. He felt as if he would choke. That black spotwas the tip end of a tail, the tail of a small, very slim fellowdressed all in white, the only other one in all the Green Forest whodresses all in white. It was Shadow the Weasel! In his whitewinter coat he is called Ermine. 

He was running this way and that way, back and forth, with his noseto the snow. He was hunting, and Jumper knew that sooner or laterShadow would find him. Safety from Shadow lay in making the bestpossible use of those long legs of his, but to do that would bringWhitey 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 coulddo. 

CHAPTER XII: Whitey The Owl Saves Jumper

 It often happens in the end An enemy may prove a friend. --Whitefoot. 

Was ever any one in a worse position than Jumper the Hare? To movewould be to give himself away to Whitey the Snowy Owl. If heremained 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 onlya few minutes before one of them knew it. At least, that isthe way it looked to Jumper. 

Whitey wouldn't know it unless he moved, but Shadow the Weaselwould 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 thefoot of which Jumper was crouching. 

Nearer and nearer came Shadow. He was slim and trim and didn't lookat all terrible. Yet there was no one in all the Green Forest morefeared by the little people in fur, by Jumper, by Peter Rabbit, byWhitefoot, even by Chatterer the Red Squirrel. 

"Perhaps, " thought Jumper, "he won't find my scent after all. Perhaps he'll go in another direction. " But all the time Jumperfelt 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 tododge 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. "

Suddenly Shadow stopped running and sat up to look about withfierce little eyes, all the time testing the air with his nose. Jumper's heart sank. He knew that Shadow had caught a faint scentof some one. Then Shadow began to run back and forth once more, but more carefully than before. And then he started straight forwhere Jumper was crouching! Jumper knew then that Shadow had found histrail. 

Jumper drew a long breath and settled his long hind feet for a greatjump, hoping to so take Whitey the Owl by surprise that he might beable to get away. And as Jumper did this, he looked over to thatstump where Whitey had been sitting so long. Whitey was justleaving it on his great silent wings, and his fierce yellow eyeswere fixed in the direction of Shadow the Weasel. He had seen thatmoving black spot which was the tip of Shadow's tail. 

Jumper didn't have time to jump before Whitey was swooping downat Shadow. So Juniper just kept still and watched with eyes almostpopping from his head with fear and excitement. 

Shadow hadn't seen Whitey until just as Whitey was reaching for himwith his great cruel claws. Now if there is any one who can movemore 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 timethey were getting farther and farther from where Jumper was. 

The instant it was safe to do so, Jumper took to his long heels andthe way he disappeared, lipperty-lipperty-lip, was worth seeing. Whitey the Snowy Owl had saved him from Shadow the Weasel and didn'tknow it. An enemy had proved to be a friend. 

CHAPTER XIII: Whitefoot Decides Quickly

 Your mind made up a certain way Be swift to act; do not delay. --Whitefoot. 

When Whitefoot had discovered Whitey the Snowy Owl, he had dodgeddown 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 enemiesto watch out for, and here was another. 

"Just as if I didn't have troubles enough without having this whiterobber to add to them, " grumbled Whitefoot. "Why doesn't he staywhere he belongs, way up in the Far North? It must be that food isscarce up there. Well, now that I know he is here, he will have tobe smarter than I think he is to catch me. I hope Jumper the Harewill have sense enough to keep perfectly still. I've sometimesenvied him his long legs, but I guess I am better off than he is, atthat. Once he has been seen by an enemy, only those long legs of hiscan save him, but I have a hundred hiding-places down under the snow. Whitey is watching the hole where I disappeared; he thinksI'll come out there again after a while. I'll fool him. "

Whitefoot scampered along through a little tunnel and presently verycautiously 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 minutesbefore. Whitefoot grinned. Then he looked over to where he hadlast seen Jumper. Jumper was still there; it was clear that hehadn't moved, and so Whitey hadn't seen him. Again Whitefoot grinned. Then he settled himself to watch patiently for Whitey to become tiredof watching that hole and fly away. 

So it was that Whitefoot saw all that happened. He saw Whiteysuddenly sail out on silent wings from that stump and swoop withgreat claws reaching for some one. And then he saw who that someone was, --Shadow the Weasel! He saw Shadow dodge in the very nickof time. Then he watched Whitey swoop again and again as Shadowdodged this way and that way. Finally both disappeared amongst thetrees. Then he turned just in time to see Jumper the Hare boundingaway with all the speed of his wonderful, long legs. 

Fear, the greatest fear he had known for a long time, took possessionof Whitefoot. "Shadow the Weasel!" he gasped and had such a thingbeen possible he certainly would have turned pale. "Whitey won'tcatch him; Shadow is too quick for him. And when Whitey has given upand flown away, Shadow will come back. He probably had found thetracks of Jumper the Hare and he will come back. I know him; he'llcome back. Jumper is safe enough from him now, because he has such along start, but Shadow will be sure to find one of my holes in the snow. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What shall I do?"

You see Shadow the Weasel is the one enemy that can follow Whitefootinto most of his hiding-places. 

For a minute or two Whitefoot sat there, shaking with fright. Thenhe made up his mind. "I'll get away from here before he returns, "thought Whitefoot. "I've got to. I've spent a comfortable winterhere 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. "

Without waiting another second, Whitefoot scampered away. And howhe did hope that his scent would have disappeared by the time Shadowreturned. If it hadn't, there would be little hope for him and heknew it. 

CHAPTER XIV: Shadows Return

 He little gains and has no pride Who from his purpose turns aside. --Whitefoot. 

Shadow the Weasel believes in persistence. When he sets out to do athing, he keeps at it until it is done or he knows for a certaintyit cannot be done. He is not easily discouraged. This is onereason he is so feared by the little people he delights to hunt. They know that once he gets on their trail, they will be fortunateindeed if they escape him. 

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 ofthe 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 stillmore 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. 

So Shadow's little eyes grew red with rage as he dodged this way andthat and was gradually driven away from the place where he hadfound the trail of Jumper the Hare. At last he saw a hole in anold 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 outagain would be a waste of time. So Whitey promptly flew away. 

Hardly had he disappeared when Shadow popped out of that hole, for hehad been peeping out and watching Whitey. Without a moment's pause heturned straight back for the place where he had found the trail ofJumper the Hare. He had no intention of giving up that hunt justbecause he had been driven away. Straight to the very spot whereWhitey had first swooped at him he ran, and there once more his keenlittle nose took up the trail of Jumper. It led him straight to thefoot of the tree where Jumper had crouched so long. 

But, as you know, Jumper wasn't there then. Shadow ran in a circleand presently he found where Jumper had landed on the snow at theend of that first bound. Shadow snarled. He understood exactlywhat had happened. 

"Jumper was under that tree when that white robber from the FarNorth 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 isstill going. It is useless to follow him because he has too long astart, " said Shadow, and he snarled again in rage and disappointment. 

Then, for such is his way, he wasted no more time or thought onJumper the Hare. Instead he began to look for other trails. Soit was that he found one of the little holes of Whitefoot the Wood Mouse. 

"Ha! So this is where Whitefoot has been living this winter!"he exclaimed. Once more his eyes glowed red, but this time witheagerness and the joy of the hunt. He plunged down into that littlehole 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 Whitefoothad hurriedly left that the scent on the surface had disappeared. 

Shadow ran swiftly this way and that way in a big circle, but hecouldn't find Whitefoot's trail again. Snarling with anger anddisappointment, he returned to the little hole in the snow andvanished. Then he followed all Whitefoot's little tunnels. He foundWhitefoot's nest. He found his store of seeds. But he didn't findWhitefoot. 

"He'll come back, " muttered Shadow, and curled up in Whitefoot'snest to wait. 

CHAPTER XV: Whitefoots Dreadful Journey

 Danger may be anywhere, So I expect it everywhere. --Whitefoot. 

Whitefoot the Wood Mouse was terribly frightened. Yes, sir, he wasterribly frightened. It was a long, long time since he had beenas frightened as he now was. He is used to frights, is Whitefoot. He has them every day and every night, but usually they are suddenfrights, quickly over and as quickly forgotten. 

This fright was different. You see Whitefoot had caught a glimpseof Shadow the Weasel. And he knew that if Shadow returned he wouldbe sure to find the little round holes in the snow that led down toWhitefoot's private little tunnels underneath. 

The only thing for Whitefoot to do was to get just as far from thatplace as he could before Shadow should return. And so poor littleWhitefoot started out on a journey that was to take him he knew notwhere. All he could do was to go and go and go until he could finda safe hiding-place. 

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 timehe saw a moving shadow, and the branches of the trees moving in thewind were constantly making moving shadows on the snow, he dodgedbehind a tree trunk or under a piece of bark or wherever he couldfind a hiding-place. 

You see, Whitefoot has so many enemies always looking for him thathe hides whenever he sees anything moving. When at home, he isforever dodging in and out of his hiding-places. So, becauseeverything was strange to him, and because of the great fear ofShadow the Weasel, he suspected everything that moved and every soundhe 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 toplace and was just as badly frightened as if there had been enemiesall about. 

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!" he kept saying over and over to himself. "Wherever shall I go? Whatever shall I do? However shall I getenough to eat? I won't dare go back to get food from my littlestorehouses, and I shall have to live in a strange place where Iwon'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!"

But in spite of his frights, Whitefoot kept on. You see, he wasmore afraid to stop than he was to go on. He just had to get as farfrom Shadow the Weasel as he could. Being such a little fellow, whatwould be a short distance for you or me is a long distance for Whitefoot. 

And so that journey was to him very long indeed. Of course, itseemed longer because of the constant frights which came one rightafter another. It really was a terrible journey. Yet if he had onlyknown 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 whatthey don't know than by what they do know. 

CHAPTER XVI: Whitefoot Climbs A Tree

 I'd rather be frightened With no cause for fear Than fearful of nothing When danger is near. --Whitefoot. 

Whitefoot kept on going and going. Every time he thought that hewas so tired he must stop, he would think of Shadow the Weasel andthen go on again. By and by he became so tired that not even thethought of Shadow the Weasel could make him go much farther. So hebegan to look about for a safe hiding-place in which to rest. 

Now the home which he had left had been a snug little room beneaththe roots of a certain old stump. There he had lived for a longtime in the greatest comfort. Little tunnels led to his storehousesand up to the surface of the snow. It had been a splendid placeand one in which he had felt perfectly safe until Shadow the Weaselhad appeared. Had you seen him playing about there, you would havethought him one of the little people of the ground, like his cousinDanny Meadow Mouse. 

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 theRed 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 hewould feel much safer in a tree than on the ground. 

"If only I can find a hollow tree, " whimpered Whitefoot. "I willfeel ever so much safer in a tree than hiding in or near the groundin a strange place. "

So Whitefoot began to look for a dead tree. You see, he knew thatthere was more likely to be a hollow in a dead tree than in a livingtree. By and by he came to a tall, dead tree. He knew it was adead tree, because there was no bark on it. But, of course, hecouldn't tell whether or not that tree was hollow. I mean he couldn'ttell from the ground. 

"Oh, dear!" he whimpered again. "Oh, dear! I suppose I willhave 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 treethat Drummer the Woodpecker likes to make his house in. I shall beterribly disappointed if I don't find one of his houses somewhere init, but I wish I hadn't got to climb it to find out. Well, heregoes. "

He looked anxiously this way. He looked anxiously that way. He lookedanxiously the other way. In fact, he looked anxiously every way. 

But he saw no one and nothing to be afraid of, and so he started upthe tree. 

He was half-way up when, glancing down, he saw a shadow movingacross the snow. Once more Whitefoot's heart seemed to jump rightup in his throat. That shadow was the shadow of some one flying. There couldn't be the least bit of doubt about it. Whitefootflattened 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 almostthe size of Sammy Jay alight in the very next tree. He had comealong 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. Whitefootshivered. 

CHAPTER XVII: Whitefoot Finds A Hole Just In Time

 Just in time, not just too late, Will make you master of your fate. --Whitefoot. 

Whitefoot, half-way up that dead tree, flattened himself against thetrunk 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 thathe had quite forgotten there was such a one. It was Butcher theShrike. Often he is called just Butcher Bird. He did not look atall terrible. He was not quite as big as Sammy Jay. He had noterrible claws like the Hawks and Owls. There was a tiny hook atthe end of his black bill, but it wasn't big enough to look verydreadful. But you can not always judge a person by looks, andWhitefoot knew that Butcher was one to be feared. 

So his heart went pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat as he wondered if Butcher hadseen him. He didn't have to wait long to find out. Butcher flew toa tree back of Whitefoot and then straight at him. Whitefoot dodgedaround to the other side of the tree. Then began a dreadful game. At least, it was dreadful to Whitefoot. This way and that wayaround the trunk of that tree he dodged, while Butcher did his bestto catch him. 

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 andterrible journey to him. He had felt almost too tired to climb thattree 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. 

Now Butcher was enjoying this game of dodge. If he should catchWhitefoot, he would have a good dinner. If he didn't catch Whitefoot, he would simply go hungry a little longer. So you see, there wasa very big difference in the feelings of Whitefoot and Butcher. Whitefoot had his life to lose, while Butcher had only a dinnerto lose. 

Dodging this way and dodging that way, Whitefoot climbed higher andhigher. Twice he whisked around that tree trunk barely in time. All the time he was growing more and more tired, and more and morediscouraged. Supposing he should find no hole in that tree!

"There must be one. There must be one, " he kept saying over andover to himself, to keep his courage up. "I can't keep dodging muchlonger. If I don't find a hole pretty soon, Butcher will surelycatch me. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"

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 belowthat stub. Oh, joy! There, close under that stub, was a round hole. Whitefoot didn't hesitate a second. He didn't wait to find outwhether or not any one was in that hole. He didn't even think thatthere might be some one in there. With a tiny little squeak ofrelief he darted in. He was just in time. He was just in the nickof time. Butcher struck at him and just missed him as hedisappeared in that hole. Whitefoot had saved his life and Butcherhad missed a dinner. 

CHAPTER XVIII: An Unpleasant Surprise

 Be careful never to be rude Enough to thoughtlessly intrude. --Whitefoot. 

If ever anybody in the Great World felt relief and thankfulness, itwas Whitefoot when he dodged into that hole in the dead tree just asButcher the Shrike all but caught him. For a few minutes he didnothing but pant, for he was quite out of breath. 

"I was right, " he said over and over to himself, "I was right. Iwas sure there must be a hole in this tree. It is one of the oldhouses of Drummer the Woodpecker. Now I am safe. "

Presently he peeped out. He wanted to see if Butcher was watchingoutside. He was just in time to see Butcher's gray and black andwhite coat disappearing among the trees. Butcher was not foolishenough to waste time watching for Whitefoot to come out. Whitefootsighed happily. For the first time since he had started on hisdreadful journey he felt safe. Nothing else mattered. He washungry, but he didn't mind that. He was willing to go hungry forthe sake of being safe. 

Whitefoot watched until Butcher was out of sight. Then he turned tosee what that house was like. Right away he discovered that therewas a soft, warm bed in it. It was made of leaves, grass, moss, andthe lining of bark. It was a very fine bed indeed. 

"My, my, my, but I am lucky, " said Whitefoot to himself. "I wonderwho could have made this fine bed. I certainly shall sleepcomfortably here. Goodness knows, I need a rest. If I can findfood enough near here, I'll make this my home. I couldn't ask for abetter one. "

Chuckling happily, Whitefoot began to pull away the top of thatbed 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 curledup in a little round ball in the middle of that fine bed. It wassome one with a coat of the softest, finest fur. Can you guess whoit was? It was Timmy the Flying Squirrel. 

It seemed to Whitefoot as if his heart flopped right over. You seeat first he didn't recognize Timmy. Whitefoot is himself so verytimid that his thought was to run; to get out of there as quickly aspossible. But he had no place to run to, so he hesitated. Never inall his life had Whitefoot had a greater disappointment. He knewnow that this splendid house was not for him. 

Timmy the Flying Squirrel didn't move. He remained curled up in asoft little ball. He was asleep. Whitefoot remembered that Timmysleeps during the day and seldom comes out until the Black Shadowscome creeping out from the Purple Hills at the close of day. Whitefoot felt easier in his mind then. Timmy was so sound asleepthat he knew nothing of his visitor. And so Whitefoot felt safe instaying long enough to get rested. Then he would go out and huntfor another home. 

So down in the middle of that soft, warm bed Timmy the FlyingSquirrel, curled up in a little round ball with his flat tailwrapped around him, slept peacefully, and on top of that soft bedWhitefoot the Wood Mouse rested and wondered what he should do next. Not in all the Green Forest could two more timid little people befound than the two in that old home of Drummer the Woodpecker. 

CHAPTER XIX: Whitefoot Finds A Home At Last

 True independence he has known Whose home has been his very own. --Whitefoot. 

Curled up in his splendid warm bed, Timmy the Flying Squirrel sleptpeacefully. He didn't know he had a visitor. He didn't know thaton top of that same bed lay Whitefoot the Wood Mouse. Whitefootwasn't asleep. No, indeed! Whitefoot was too worried to sleep. He knew he couldn't stay in that fine house because it belongedto 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 thoughtof that, he remembered Shadow the Weasel. It was better to behomeless than to feel that at any minute Shadow the Weasel mightappear. 

It was getting late in the afternoon. Before long, jolly, round, red Mr. Sun would go to bed behind the Purple Hills, and the BlackShadows would come creeping through the Green Forest. Then Timmythe Flying Squirrel would awake. "It won't do for me to be herethen, " said Whitefoot to himself. "I must find some other placebefore he wakes. If only I knew this part of the Green Forest Imight know where to go. As it is, I shall have to go hunt for anew home and trust to luck. Did ever a poor little Mouse have somuch trouble?"

After awhile Whitefoot felt rested and peeped out of the doorway. No enemy was to be seen anywhere. Whitefoot crept out and climbeda little higher up in the tree. Presently he found another hole. He peeped inside and listened long and carefully. He didn't intendto make the mistake of going into another house where some one mightbe living. 

At last, sure that there was no one in there, he crept in. Then hemade a discovery. There were beech nuts in there and there were seeds. 

It was a storehouse! Whitefoot knew at once that it must be Timmy'sstorehouse. 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 hemay help himself to if he can. 

So Whitefoot began to fill his empty little stomach with some of thoseseeds. 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 thesound of claws outside on the trunk of the tree. In a flash he knewthat Timmy the Flying Squirrel was awake, and that it wouldn't do tobe found in there by him. In a jiffy Whitefoot was outside. He wasjust in time. Timmy was almost up to the entrance. 

"Hi, there!" cried Timmy. "What were you doing in my storehouse?"

"I--I--I was looking for a new home, " stammered Whitefoot. 

"You mean you were stealing some of my food, " snapped Timmy suspiciously. 

"I--I--I did take a few seeds because I was almost starved. But truly I was looking for a new home, " replied Whitefoot. 

"What was the matter with your old home?" demanded Timmy. 

Then Whitefoot told Timmy all about how he had been obliged to leavehis old home because of Shadow the Weasel, of the terrible journeyhe 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 mindthat Whitefoot was telling the truth. The mere mention of Shadowthe Weasel made him very sober. 

He scratched his nose thoughtfully. "Over in that tall, dead stubyou can see from here is an old home of mine, " said he. "No onelives in it now. I guess you can live there until you can find abetter home. But remember to keep away from my storehouse. "

So it was that Whitefoot found a new home. 

CHAPTER XX: Whitefoot Makes Himself At Home

 Look not too much on that behind Lest to the future you be blind. --Whitefoot. 

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 hislegs would take him. Up the stub he climbed, and near the top hefound a little round hole. Timmy had said no one was living there now, and so Whitefoot didn't hesitate to pop inside. 

There was even a bed in there. It was an old bed, but it was dryand soft. It was quite clear that no one had been in there for along time. With a little sigh of pure happiness, Whitefoot curledup in that bed for the sleep he so much needed. His stomach wasfull, and once more he felt safe. The very fact that this was anold 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 Forestprobably knew that no one lived in that old stub, and so no one waslikely to visit it. 

He was so tired that he slept all night. Whitefoot is one of thosewho 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 saferthen, but he often comes out by day. So when he awoke in the earlymorning, he promptly went out for a look about and to get acquaintedwith his new surroundings. 

Just a little way off was the tall, dead tree in which Timmy theFlying 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 tosleep through the day. Whitefoot thought longingly of the goodthings in Timmy's storehouse in that same tree, but decided that itwould be wisest to keep away from there. So he scurried about tosee what he could find for a breakfast. It didn't take him long tofind some pine cones in which a few seeds were still clinging. These would do nicely. Whitefoot ate what he wanted and thencarried some of them back to his new home in the tall stub. 

Then he went to work to tear to pieces the old bed in there andmake it over to suit himself. It was an old bed of Timmy theFlying Squirrel, for you know this was Timmy's old house. 

Whitefoot soon had the bed made over to suit him. And when this wasdone he felt quite at home. Then he started out to explore allabout within a short distance of the old stub. He wanted to knowevery hole and every possible hiding-place all around, for it is onsuch knowledge that his life depends. 

When at last he returned home he was very well satisfied. "It is goingto be a good place to live, " said he to himself. "There are plentyof 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'tbelieve Shadow the Weasel, even if he should come around here, wouldbother to climb up this old stub. He probably would expect to findme living down in the ground or close to it, anyway. I certainly amglad that I am such a good climber. Now if Buster Bear doesn't comealong in the spring and pull this old stub over, I'll have as fine ahome as any one could ask for. "

And then, because happily it is the way with the little people ofthe Green Forest and the Green Meadows, Whitefoot forgot all abouthis terrible journey and the dreadful time he had had in finding hisnew home. 

CHAPTER XXI: Whitefoot Envies Timmy

 A useless thing is envy; A foolish thing to boot. Why should a Fox who has a bark Want like an Owl to hoot?

Whitefoot was beginning to feel quite at home. He would have beenwholly contented but for one thing, --he had no well-filled storehouse. This meant that each day he must hunt for his food. 

It wasn't that Whitefoot minded hunting for food. He would havedone that anyway, even though he had had close at hand a store-housewith plenty in it. But he would have felt easier in his mind. He would have had the comfortable feeling that if the weather turnedso bad that he could not easily get out and about, he would not haveto go hungry. 

But Whitefoot is a happy little fellow and wisely made the best ofthings. At first he came out very little by day. He knew thatthere were many sharp eyes watching for him, and that he was morelikely to be seen in the light of day than when the Black Shadowshad crept all through the Green Forest. 

He would peek out of his doorway and watch for chance visitors inthe daytime. Twice he saw Butcher the Shrike alight a shortdistance from the tree in which Timmy lived. He knew Butcher hadnot forgotten that he had chased a badly frightened Mouse into ahole in that tree. Once he saw Whitey the Snowy Owl and so knewthat Whitey had not yet returned to the Far North. Once Reddy Foxtrotted along right past the foot of the old stub in which Whitefootlived, and didn't even suspect that he was anywhere near. Twice hesaw Old Man Coyote trotting past, and once Terror the Goshawkalighted on that very stub, and sat there for half an hour. 

So Whitefoot formed the habit of doing just what Timmy the FlyingSquirrel did; he remained in his house for most of the day and cameout when the Black Shadows began to creep in among the trees. Timmycame out about the same time, and they had become the best of friends. 

Now Whitefoot is not much given to envying others, but as nightafter night he watched Timmy a little envy crept into his heart inspite of all he could do. Timmy would nimbly climb to the top of atree and then jump. Down he would come in a long beautiful glide, for all the world as if he were sliding on the air. 

The first time Whitefoot saw him do it he held his breath. Hereally didn't know what to make of it. The nearest tree to the onefrom which Timmy had jumped was so far away that it didn't seempossible any one without wings could reach it without first going tothe ground. 

"Oh!" squeaked Whitefoot. "Oh! he'll kill himself! He surelywill kill himself! He'll break his neck!" But Timmy did nothing ofthe kind. He sailed down, down, down and alighted on that distanttree a foot or two from the bottom; and without stopping a secondscampered up to the top of that tree and once more jumped. Whitefoot had hard work to believe his own eyes. Timmy seemed to bejumping just for the pleasure of it. As a matter of fact, he was. He was getting his evening exercise. 

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. "

CHAPTER XXII: Timmy Proves To Be A True Neighbor

 He proves himself a neighbor true Who seeks a kindly deed to do. --Whitefoot. 

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 thefoot of the stub after a long jump from the top of a tree. Whitefoot would poke his head out of his doorway and there, sureenough, would be Timmy scrambling up towards him. 

Whitefoot had grown to admire Timmy with all his might. It seemedto 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 ofthe little people of the Green Forest are more timid than Timmy theFlying Squirrel, but here was one beside whom Timmy actually feltbold. It was such a new feeling that Timmy enjoyed it. 

So it was that in the dusk of early evening, just after the BlackShadows had come creeping out from the Purple Hills across the GreenMeadows and through the Green Forest, these two little neighborswould start out to hunt for food. Whitefoot never went far fromthe 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 scamperback there to safety. Timmy would go some distance, but he wasseldom gone long. He liked to be where he could watch and talk withWhitefoot. You see Timmy is very much like other people, --helikes to gossip a little. 

One evening Whitefoot had found it hard work to find enough food tofill his stomach. He had kept going a little farther and a littlefarther from home. Finally he was farther from it than he had everbeen before. Timmy had filled his stomach and from near the top ofa tree was watching Whitefoot. Suddenly what seemed like a greatBlack 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 keptperfectly still. He knew that Hooty didn't know he was there. Unless he moved, those great eyes of Hooty's, wonderful as theywere, would not see him. 

Timmy looked over to where he had last seen Whitefoot. There he waspicking out seeds from a pine cone on the ground. The trunk of atree was between him and Hooty. But Timmy knew that Whitefoothadn't seen Hooty, and that any minute he might run out from behindthat tree. If he did Hooty would see him, and silently as a shadowwould swoop down and catch him. What was to be done?

"It's no business of mine, " said Timmy to himself. "Whitefoot mustlook out for himself. It is no business of mine at all. PerhapsHooty will fly away before Whitefoot moves. I don't want anythingto happen to Whitefoot, but if something does, it will be his ownfault; he should keep better watch. "

For a few minutes nothing happened. Then Whitefoot finished thelast seed in that cone and started to look for more. Timmy knew thatin a moment Hooty would see Whitefoot. What do you think Timmy did?He jumped. Yes, sir, he jumped. Down, down, down, straight pastthe 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 wingsand was after Timmy in an instant. Timmy struck near the foot of atree and without wasting a second darted around to the other side. He was just in time. Hooty was already reaching for him. Up thetree ran Timmy and jumped again. Again Hooty was too late. And soTimmy led Hooty the Owl away from Whitefoot the Wood Mouse. 

CHAPTER XXIII: Whitefoot Spends A Dreadful Night

 Pity those who suffer fright In the dark and stilly night. --Whitefoot. 

One night of his life Whitefoot will never forget so long as helives. Even now it makes him shiver just to think of it. Yes, sir, he shivers even now whenever he thinks of that night. The BlackShadows had come early that evening, so that it was quite dusk whenWhitefoot crept out of his snug little bed and climbed up to theround hole which was the doorway of his home. He had just poked hisnose out that little round doorway when there was the most terriblesound. It seemed to him as if it was in his very ears, so loud andterrible was it. It frightened him so that he simply let go andtumbled backward down inside his house. Of course it didn't hurthim any, for he landed on his soft bed. 

"Whooo-hoo-hoo, whooo-hoo!" came that terrible sound again, andWhitefoot shook until his little teeth rattled. At least, that isthe way it seemed to him. It was the voice of Hooty the Owl, andWhitefoot knew that Hooty was sitting on the top of that very stub. He was, so to speak, on the roof of Whitefoot's house. 

Now in all the Green Forest there is no sound that strikes terror tothe hearts of the little people of feathers and fur equal to thehunting call of Hooty the Owl. Hooty knows this. No one knows itbetter than he does. That is why he uses it. He knows that many ofthe little people are asleep, safely hidden away. He knows that itwould be quite useless for him to simply look for them. He wouldstarve before he could find a dinner in that way. But he knows thatany one wakened from sleep in great fright is sure to move, and ifthey do this they are almost equally sure to make some little sound. His ears are so wonderful that they can catch the faintest sound andtell exactly where it comes from. So he uses that terrible huntingcry to frighten the little people and make them move. 

Now Whitefoot knew that he was safe. Hooty couldn't possibly get athim, even should he find out that he was in there. There wasnothing to fear, but just the same, Whitefoot shivered and shook andjumped almost out of his skin every time that Hooty hooted. He justcouldn't help it. 

"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 beafraid of. It is silly to be afraid. Probably Hooty doesn't evenknow I am inside here. Even if he does, it doesn't really matter. "Whitefoot said these things to himself over and over again. ThenHooty would send out that fierce, terrible hunting call and Whitefootwould jump and shake just as before. 

After awhile all was still. Gradually Whitefoot stopped trembling. He guessed that Hooty had flown away. Still he remained right wherehe was for a very long time. He didn't intend to foolishly take anychances. So he waited and waited and waited. 

At last he was sure that Hooty had left. Once more he climbed up tohis little round doorway and there he waited some time before pokingeven 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 tumbledheels over head down on his bed. 

Whitefoot didn't go out that night at all. It was a moonlight nightand just the kind of a night to be out. Instead Whitefoot lay inhis little bed and shivered and shook, for all through that longnight every once in a while Hooty the Owl would hoot from the top ofthat stub. 

CHAPTER XXIV: Whitefoot The Wood Mouse Is Unhappy

 Unhappiness without a cause you never, never find; It may be in the stomach, or it may be in the mind. --Whitefoot. 

Whitefoot the Wood Mouse should have been happy, but he wasn't. Winter had gone and sweet Mistress Spring had brought joy to all theGreen Forest. Every one was happy, Whitefoot no less so than hisneighbors at first. Up from the Sunny South came the featheredfriends and at once began planning new homes. Twitterings and songsfilled the air. Joy was everywhere. Food became plentiful, andWhitefoot became sleek and fat. That is, he became as fat as alively Wood Mouse ever does become. None of his enemies haddiscovered his new home, and he had little to worry about. 

But by and by Whitefoot began to feel less joyous. Day by day hegrew more and more unhappy. He no longer took pleasure in hisfine home. He began to wander about for no particular reason. He wandered much farther from home than he had ever been in thehabit of doing. At times he would sit and listen, but what he waslistening for he didn't know. "There is something the matter withme, 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 knowwhat it is I want. "

He tried to tell his troubles to his nearest neighbor, Timmy theFlying Squirrel, but Timmy was too busy to listen. When PeterRabbit happened along, Whitefoot tried to tell him. But Peterhimself was too happy and too eager to learn all the news in theGreen Forest to listen. No one had any interest in Whitefoot'stroubles. Every one was too busy with his own affairs. 

So day by day Whitefoot the Wood Mouse grew more and more unhappy, and when the dusk of early evening came creeping through the GreenForest, he sat about and moped instead of running about and playingas he had been in the habit of doing. The beautiful song of Melodythe Wood Thrush somehow filled him with sadness instead of with thejoy he had always felt before. The very happiness of those abouthim seemed to make him more unhappy. 

Once he almost decided to go hunt for another home, but somehow hecouldn't get interested even in this. He did start out, but he hadnot gone far before he had forgotten all about what he had startedfor. Always he had loved to run about and climb and jump for thepure pleasure of it, but now he no longer did these things. He was unhappy, was Whitefoot. Yes, sir, he was unhappy; and for nocause at all so far as he could see. 

CHAPTER XXV: Whitefoot Finds Out What The Matter Was

 Pity the lonely, for deep in the heart Is an ache that no doctor can heal by his art. --Whitefoot. 

Of all the little people of the Green Forest Whitefoot seemed to bethe only one who was unhappy. And because he didn't know why hefelt so he became day by day more unhappy. Perhaps I should saythat night by night he became more unhappy, for during thebrightness of the day he slept most of the time. 

"There is something wrong, something wrong, " he would sayover and over to himself. 

"It must be with me, because everybody else is happy, and this isthe happiest time of all the year. I wish some one would tell mewhat ails me. I want to be happy, but somehow I just can't be. "

One evening he wandered a little farther from home than usual. He wasn't going anywhere in particular. He had nothing inparticular to do. He was just wandering about because somehow hecouldn't remain at home. Not far away Melody the Wood Thrush waspouring out his beautiful evening song. Whitefoot stopped tolisten. Somehow it made him more unhappy than ever. Melody stoppedsinging for a few moments. It was just then that Whitefoot heard afaint sound. It was a gentle drumming. Whitefoot pricked up hisears and listened. There it was again. He knew instantly how thatsound was made. It was made by dainty little feet beating very faston an old log. Whitefoot had drummed that way himself many times. It was soft, but clear, and it lasted only a moment. 

Right then something very strange happened to Whitefoot. Yes, sir, something very strange happened to Whitefoot. All in a flash hefelt 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. Thenhe listened. At first he heard nothing. Then, soft and low, camethat drumming sound again. Whitefoot replied to it. All the timehe kept feeling better. He ran a little nearer to the place fromwhich that drumming sound had come and then once more drummed. At first he got no reply. 

Then in a few minutes he heard it again, only this time it came froma different place. Whitefoot became quite excited. He knew thatthat drumming was done by another Wood Mouse, and all in a flash itcame over him what had been the matter with him. 

"I have been lonely!" exclaimed Whitefoot. "That is all that hasbeen 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. "

Again he drummed and again came that soft reply. Once moreWhitefoot hurried in the direction of it, and once more he wasdisappointed when the next reply came from a different place. By now he was getting quite excited. He was bound to find that otherWood Mouse. Every time he heard that drumming, funny little thrillsran 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 waitfor a reply. As soon as he heard it, he would scamper in thedirection of it, and then pause to drum again. Sometimes the replywould be very near, then again it would be so far away that a greatfear would fill Whitefoot's heart that the stranger was running away. 

CHAPTER XXVI: Love Fills The Heart Of Whitefoot

 Joyous all the winds that blow To the heart with love aglow. --Whitefoot. 

It was a wonderful game of hide-and-seek that Whitefoot the WoodMouse 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 anotherWood Mouse, but it was a stranger, and do what he would, he couldn'tget so much as a glimpse of this little stranger. He would drumwith his feet and after a slight pause there would be an answeringdrum. Then Whitefoot would run as fast as he could in that directiononly to find no one at all. Then he would drum again and the replywould come from another direction. 

Every moment Whitefoot became more excited. He forgot everything, even danger, in his desire to see that little drummer. Once ortwice he actually lost his temper in his disappointment. But thiswas only for a moment. He was too eager to find that little drummerto be angry very long. 

At last there came a time when there was no reply to his drumming. He drummed and listened, then drummed again and listened. Nothingwas to be heard. There was no reply. Whitefoot's heart sank. 

All the old lonesomeness crept over him again. He didn't know whichway to turn to look for that stranger. When he had drummed until hewas tired, he sat on the end of an old log, a perfect picture ofdisappointment. He was so disappointed that he could have cried ifit would have done any good. 

Just as he had about made up his mind that there was nothing to do butto try to find his way home, his keen little ears caught the faintestrustle 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 onhim. No Wood Mouse who wants to live long is ever heedless ofrustling leaves. As still as if he couldn't move, Whitefoot satstaring at the place from which that faint sound had seemed to come. For two or three minutes he heard and saw nothing. Then anotherleaf rustled a little bit to one side. Whitefoot turned like aflash, his feet gathered under him ready for a long jump for safety. 

At first he saw nothing. Then he became aware of two bright, softlittle eyes watching him. He stared at them very hard and then allover him crept those funny thrills he had felt when he had firstheard the drumming of the stranger. He knew without being told thatthose eyes belonged to the little drummer with whom he had beenplaying hide and seek so long. 

Whitefoot held his breath, he was so afraid that those eyes would vanish. Finally he rather timidly jumped down from the log and startedtoward 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 ofmoonlight made its way down through the branches of the trees justthere, and in the middle of the light spot it made sat a timidlittle person. It seemed to Whitefoot that he was looking at themost beautiful Wood Mouse in all the Great World. Suddenly he feltvery shy and timid himself. 

"Who--who--who are you?" he stammered. 

"I am little Miss Dainty, " replied the stranger bashfully. 

Right then and there Whitefoot's heart was filled so full ofsomething that it seemed as if it would burst. It was love. All inthat instant he knew that he had found the most wonderful thing inall the Great World, which of course is love. He knew that he justcouldn't live without little Miss Dainty. 

CHAPTER XXVII: Mr. And Mrs. Whitefoot

 When all is said and all is done 'Tis only love of two makes one. --Whitefoot. 

Little Miss Dainty, the most beautiful and wonderful Wood Mouse in allthe Great World, according to Whitefoot, was very shy and very timid. It took Whitefoot a long time to make her believe that he reallycouldn't live without her. At least, she pretended not to believe it. If the truth were known, little Miss Dainty felt just the same wayabout Whitefoot. But Whitefoot didn't know this, and I am afraidshe teased him a great deal before she told him that she loved himjust as he loved her. 

But at last little Miss Dainty shyly admitted that she loved Whitefootjust as much as he loved her and was willing to become Mrs. Whitefoot. Secretly she thought Whitefoot the most wonderful Wood Mouse in theGreat World, but she didn't tell him so. The truth is, she made himfeel as if she were doing him a great favor. 

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 aMouse. He was ready and eager to do anything that Mrs. Whitefootwanted to do. Together they scampered about in the moonlight, hunting for good things to eat, and poking their inquisitive littlenoses into every little place they could find. Whitefoot forgotthat he had ever been sad and lonely. He raced about and did allsorts of funny things from pure joy, but he never once forgot towatch out for danger. In fact he was more watchful than ever, fornow he was watching for Mrs. Whitefoot as well as for himself. 

At last Whitefoot rather timidly suggested that they should go seehis fine home in a certain hollow stub. Mrs. Whitefoot insistedthat they should go to her home. Whitefoot agreed on condition thatshe would afterwards visit his home. So together they went back toMrs. Whitefoot's home. Whitefoot pretended that he liked it verymuch, 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 onceshe had seen it. 

But Mrs. Whitefoot was very well satisfied with her old home and notat all anxious to leave it. It was in an old hollow stump close tothe ground. It was just such a place as Shadow the Weasel would besure to visit should he happen along that way. It didn't seem atall safe to Whitefoot. In fact it worried him. Then, too, it wasnot in such a pleasant place as was his own home. Of course hedidn't say this, but pretended to admire everything. 

Two days and nights they spent there. Then Whitefoot suggested thatthey should visit his home. "Of course, my dear, we will not haveto live there unless you want to, but I want you to see it, " said he. 

Mrs. Whitefoot didn't appear at all anxious to go. She began tomake excuses for staying right where they were. You see, she had agreat love for that old home. They were sitting just outside thedoorway talking about the matter when Whitefoot caught a glimpse ofa swiftly moving form not far off. It was Shadow the Weasel. Neither of them breathed. Shadow passed without looking in theirdirection. When he was out of sight, Mrs. Whitefoot shivered. 

"Let's go over to your home right away, " she whispered. "I've neverseen Shadow about here before, but now that he has been here once, he may come again. "

"We'll start at once, " replied Whitefoot, and for once he was gladthat Shadow the Weasel was about. 

CHAPTER XXVIII: Mrs. Whitefoot Decides On A Home

 When Mrs. Mouse makes up her mind Then Mr. Mouse best get behind. --Whitefoot. 

Whitefoot the Wood Mouse was very proud of his home. He showed itas he led Mrs. Whitefoot there. He felt sure that she would say atonce that that would be the place for them to live. You rememberthat it was high up in a tall, dead stub and had once been the homeof Timmy the Flying Squirrel. 

"There, my dear, what do you think of that?" said Whitefoot proudlyas they reached the little round doorway. 

Mrs. Whitefoot said nothing, but at once went inside. She was gonewhat seemed a long time to Whitefoot, anxiously waiting outside. You see, Mrs. Whitefoot is a very thorough small person, and she wasexamining the inside of that house from top to bottom. At last sheappeared at the doorway. 

"Don't you think this is a splendid house?" asked Whitefootrather timidly. 

"It is very good of its kind, " replied Mrs. Whitefoot. 

Whitefoot's heart sank. He didn't like the tone in which Mrs. Whitefoot had said that. 

"Just what do you mean, my dear?" Whitefoot asked. 

"I mean, " replied Mrs. Whitefoot, in a most decided way, "that it isa 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 upthat if we should have babies, I would worry all the time for fearthe darlings would have a bad fall. Besides, I don't like an insidehouse for summer. I think, Whitefoot, we must look around and finda new home. "

As she spoke Mrs. Whitefoot was already starting down the stub. Whitefoot followed. 

"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'tlike it we'll look for another. "

Mrs. Whitefoot said nothing, but led the way down the tree withWhitefoot meekly following. Then began a patient search all about. Mrs. Whitefoot appeared to know just what she wanted and turned upher nose at several places Whitefoot thought would make fine homes. She hardly glanced at a fine hollow log Whitefoot found. She merelypoked her nose in at a splendid hole beneath the roots of an old stump. Whitefoot began to grow tired from running about and climbing stumpsand trees and bushes. 

He stopped to rest and lost sight of Mrs. Whitefoot. A moment later heheard her calling excitedly. When he found her, she was up in a smalltree, 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 eyessnapped with excitement and pleasure. 

"I've found it!" she cried. "I've found it! It is just what Ihave been looking for. "

"Found what?" Whitefoot asked. "I don't see anything but an oldnest of Melody's. "

"I've found the home we've been looking for, stupid, " retortedMrs. Whitefoot. 

Still Whitefoot stared. "I don't see any house, " said he. 

Mrs. Whitefoot stamped her feet impatiently. "Right here, stupid, "said she. "This old nest will make us the finest and safest homethat ever was. No one will ever think of looking for us here. We must get busy at once and fix it up. "

Even then Whitefoot didn't understand. Always he had lived eitherin a hole in the ground, or in a hollow stump or tree. How theywere to live in that old nest he couldn't see at all. 

CHAPTER XXIX: Making Over An Old House

 A home is always what you make it. With love there you will ne'er forsake it. --Whitefoot. 

Whitefoot climbed up to the old nest of Melody the Wood Thrush overthe edge of which little Mrs. Whitefoot was looking down at him. It took Whitefoot hardly a moment to get up there, for the nest wasonly a few feet above the ground in a young tree, and you knowWhitefoot is a very good climber. 

He found Mrs. Whitefoot very much excited. She was delighted withthat old nest and she showed it. For his part, Whitefoot couldn'tsee anything but a deserted old house of no use to any one. To besure, it had been a very good home in its time. It had been made oftiny twigs, stalks of old weeds, leaves, little fine roots and mud. It was still quite solid, and was firmly fixed in a crotch of theyoung tree. But Whitefoot couldn't see how it could be turned intoa home for a Mouse. He said as much. 

Little Mrs. Whitefoot became more excited than ever. "You dear oldstupid, " said she, "whatever is the matter with you? Don't you seethat all we need do is to put a roof on, make an entrance on theunder side, and make a soft comfortable bed inside to make it adelightful home?"

"I don't see why we don't make a new home altogether, " protestedWhitefoot. "It seems to me that hollow stub of mine is ever so muchbetter than this. That has good solid walls, and we won't have todo a thing to it. "

"I told you once before that it doesn't suit me for summer, " repliedlittle Mrs. Whitefoot rather sharply, because she was beginning tolose patience. "It will be all right for winter, but winter is along 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. "

"Certainly, my dear. Certainly, " replied Whitefoot very meekly. "If you want to live here, here we will live. But I must confess itisn't clear to me yet how we are going to make a decent home out ofthis old nest. "

"Don't you worry about that, " replied Mrs. Whitefoot. "You can getthe material, and I'll attend to the rest. Let us waste no timeabout it. I am anxious to get our home finished and to feel alittle bit settled. I have already planned just what has got to bedone and how we will do it. Now you go look for some nice soft, dryweed stalks and strips of soft bark, and moss and any other soft, toughmaterial that you can find. Just get busy and don't stop to talk. "

Of course Whitefoot did as he was told. He ran down to the groundand began to hunt for the things Mrs. Whitefoot wanted. He was veryparticular about it. He still didn't think much of her idea ofmaking over that old home of Melody's, but if she would do it, hemeant that she should have the very best of materials to do it with. 

So back and forth from the ground to the old nest in the treeWhitefoot hurried, and presently there was quite a pile of weedstalks and soft grass and strips of bark in the old nest. Mrs. Whitefoot joined Whitefoot in hunting for just the rightthings, but she spent more time in arranging the material. Over that old nest she made a fine high roof. Down through thelower side she cut a little round doorway just big enough for themto pass through. Unless you happened to be underneath looking up, you never would have guessed there was an entrance at all. Insidewas a snug, round room, and in this she made the softest and mostcomfortable of beds. As it began to look more and more like a home, Whitefoot himself became as excited and eager as Mrs. Whitefoot hadbeen from the beginning. "It certainly is going to be a fine home, "said Whitefoot. 

"Didn't I tell you it would be?" retorted Mrs. Whitefoot. 

CHAPTER XXX: The Whitefoots Enjoy Their New Home

 No home is ever mean or poor Where love awaits you at the door. --Whitefoot. 

"There, " said Mrs. Whitefoot, as she worked a strip of white birchbark into the roof of the new home she and Whitefoot had beenbuilding out of the old home of Melody the Wood Thrush, "thisfinishes the roof. I don't think any water will get through it evenin the hardest rain. "

"It is wonderful, " declared Whitefoot admiringly. "Wherever did youlearn to build such a house as this?"

"From my mother" replied Mrs. Whitefoot. "I was born in just sucha home. It makes the finest kind of a home for Wood Mouse babies. "

"You don't think there is danger that the wind will blow it down, doyou?" ventured Whitefoot. 

"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 ofdanger that it would blow down, I would have used it? Do credit mewith a little sense, my dear. "

"Yes'm, I do, " replied Whitefoot meekly. "You are the most sensibleperson in all the Great World. I wasn't finding fault. You see, Ihave always lived in a hole in the ground or a hollow stump, or ahole in a tree, and I have not yet become used to a home that movesabout and rocks as this one does when the wind blows. But if yousay it is all right, why of course it is all right. Probably I willget used to it after awhile. "

Whitefoot did get used to it. After living in it for a few days, itno longer seemed strange, and he no longer minded its swaying whenthe wind blew. The fact is, he rather enjoyed it. So Whitefoot andMrs. Whitefoot settled down to enjoy their new home. Now and thenthey added a bit to it here and there. 

Somehow Whitefoot felt unusually safe, safer than he had ever feltin any of his other homes. You see, he had seen several featheredfolk alight close to it and not give it a second look. He knew thatthey had seen that home, but had mistaken it for what it had oncebeen, the deserted home of one of their own number. 

Whitefoot had chuckled. He had chuckled long and heartily. "If they make that mistake, " said he to himself, "everybody else islikely to make it. That home of ours is right in plain sight, yet Ido believe it is safer than the best hidden home I ever had before. Shadow the Weasel never will think of climbing up this little treeto look at an old nest, and Shadow is the one I am most afraid of. "

It was only a day or two later that Buster Bear happened along thatway. Now Buster is very fond of tender Wood Mouse. More than onceWhitefoot had had a narrow escape from Buster's big claws as theytore open an old stump or dug into the ground after him. He sawBuster glance up at the new home without the slightest interest inthose shrewd little eyes of his. Then Buster shuffled on to rollover an old log and lick up the ants he found under it. AgainWhitefoot chuckled. "Yes, sir, " said he. "It is the safest home I've ever had. "

So Whitefoot and little Mrs. Whitefoot were very happy in the homewhich they had built, and for once in his life Whitefoot did verylittle worrying. Life seemed more beautiful than it had ever beenbefore. And he almost forgot that there was such a thing as ahungry enemy. 

CHAPTER XXXI: Whitefoot Is Hurt

 The hurts that hardest are to bear Come from those for whom we care. --Whitefoot. 

Whitefoot was hurt. Yes, sir, Whitefoot was hurt. He was very muchhurt. It wasn't a bodily hurt; it was an inside hurt. It was ahurt that made his heart ache. And to make it worse, he couldn'tunderstand it at all. One evening he had been met at the littleround doorway by little Mrs. Whitefoot. 

"You can't come in, " said she. 

"Why can't I?" demanded Whitefoot, in the greatest surprise. 

"Never mind why. You can't, and that is all there is to it, "replied Mrs. Whitefoot. 

"You mean I can't ever come in any more?" asked Whitefoot. 

"I don't know about that, " replied Mrs. Whitefoot, "but you can'tcome in now, nor for some time. I think the best thing you can dois to go back to your old home in the hollow stub. "

Whitefoot stared at little Mrs. Whitefoot quite as if he thoughtshe had gone crazy. Then he lost his temper. "I guess I'll come inif I want to, " said he. "This home is quite as much my home as itis yours. You have no right to keep me out of it. Just you get outof my way. "

But little Mrs. Whitefoot didn't get out of his way, and do whathe would, Whitefoot couldn't get in. You see she quite filled thatlittle round doorway. Finally, he had to give up trying. Three timeshe came back and each time he found little Mrs. Whitefoot in thedoorway. And each time she drove him away. Finally, for lack ofany other place to go to, he returned to his old home in the oldstub. Once he had thought this the finest home possible, but nowsomehow it didn't suit him at all. The truth is he missed littleMrs. Whitefoot, and so what had once been a home was now only aplace in which to hide and sleep. 

Whitefoot's anger did not last long. It was replaced by thathurt feeling. He felt that he must have done something littleMrs. Whitefoot did not like, but though he thought and thought hecouldn't remember a single thing. Several times he went back to seeif 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 wouldsometimes 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 littleMrs. Whitefoot. You see, he was even more lonely than he had beenthen. And added to this loneliness was that hurt feeling, whichmade it ever and ever so much worse. It was very hard to bear. 

"If I could understand it, it wouldn't be so bad, " he kept sayingover and over again to himself, "but I don't understand it. I don'tunderstand why Mrs. Whitefoot doesn't love me any more. "

CHAPTER XXXII: The Surprise

 Surprises sometimes are so great You're tempted to believe in fate. --Whitefoot. 

One never-to-be forgotten evening Whitefoot met Mrs. Whitefoot andshe invited him to come back to their home. Of course Whitefoot wasdelighted. 

"Sh-h-h, " said little Mrs. Whitefoot, as Whitefoot entered the snuglittle room of the house they had built in the old nest of Melodythe Wood Thrush. Whitefoot hesitated. In the first place, it wasdark in there. In the second place, he had the feeling that somehowthat little bedroom seemed crowded. It hadn't been that way thelast time he was there. Mrs. Whitefoot was right in front of him, and she seemed very much excited about something. 

Presently she crowded to one side. "Come here and look, " said she. 

Whitefoot looked. In the middle of a soft bed of moss was asquirming mass of legs and funny little heads. At first that wasall Whitefoot could make out. 

"Don't you think this is the most wonderful surprise that ever was?"whispered little Mrs. Whitefoot. "Aren't they darlings? Aren't youproud of them?"

By this time Whitefoot had made out that that squirming mass of legsand heads was composed of baby Mice. He counted them. There were four. "Whose are they, and what are they doing here?" Whitefoot askedin a queer voice. 

"Why, you old stupid, they are yours, --yours and mine, " declaredlittle Mrs. Whitefoot. "Did you ever, ever see such beautiful babies?Now I guess you understand why I kept you away from here. "

Whitefoot shook his head. "No, " said he, "I don't understand at all. I don't see yet what you drove me away for. "

"Why, you blessed old dear, there wasn't room for you when thosebabies came; I had to have all the room there was. It wouldn't havedone to have had you running in and out and disturbing them whenthey were so tiny. I had to be alone with them, and that is why Imade you go off and live by yourself. I am so proud of them, Idon't know what to do. Aren't you proud, Whitefoot? Aren't you theproudest Wood Mouse in all the Green Forest?"

Of course Whitefoot should have promptly said that he was, but thetruth is, Whitefoot wasn't proud at all. You see, he was sosurprised that he hadn't yet had time to feel that they werereally 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 oflittle Mrs. Whitefoot. So Whitefoot didn't answer that question. He simply sat and stared at those four squirming babies. 

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 inhere for both of us and the babies too. "

Whitefoot's heart sank. He had thought that he was to stay and thateverything would be just as it had been before. "Can't I come overhere any more?" he asked rather timidly. 

"What a foolish question!" cried little Mrs. Whitefoot. "Of courseyou can. You will have to help take care of these babies. Just assoon as they are big enough, you will have to help teach them how tohunt for food and how to watch out for danger, and all the things thata wise Wood Mouse knows. Why, they couldn't get along without you. Neither could I, " she added softly. 

At that Whitefoot felt better. And suddenly there was a queerswelling in his heart. It was the beginning of pride, pride inthose wonderful babies. 

"You have given me the best surprise that ever was, my dear, " saidWhitefoot softly. "Now I think I will go and look for some supper. "

So now we will leave Whitefoot and his family. You see there aretwo very lively little people of the Green Forest who demandattention and insist on having it. They are Buster Bear's Twins, and this is to be the title of the next book.