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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Fleetfoot sold! what's that for?" asked Anna; and her mother replied, "We've about forty horses on our hands now, and as Fleetfoot was seldom used by any one except 'Lena, your father thought we couldn't afford to keep him." She did not dare tell the truth of the matter, and say that ever since the morning when 'Lena rode to Woodlawn with Durward, Fleetfoot's fate had been decreed.
From just a glance at him you would know him for a runner just as surely as a look at Jumper the Hare would tell you that he must travel in great bounds. The truth is, Fleetfoot is the fastest runner among all my children in this country. Not one can keep up with him in a race. "Fleetfoot's coat is a light yellowish-brown on the back and white underneath.
"Not I. This thick is well off his track. I would have no fear of him at any time but for thy dog. Moreover, he is a timid man, and the wood hath many robbers roving around in it. Could he meet us alone with thy dog, there would be trouble. But here I fear him not." Hugo laid his hand on Fleetfoot's head. "Thou hast no friend in Humphrey," he said in a low tone as he looked into the dog's eyes.
He dared not signal him by a whistle, so, putting spurs to his loaded horse, he advanced as fast as he was able, and shortly after came up with the lad, his anger at Fleetfoot's trespass rather increased than abated, and, in consequence, with his manner peremptory. "Into the thick here to the right," he growled, laying his hand on the bridle of Hugo's horse.
He longed to hear of the latest tricks of Fleetfoot's cubs. They were three of the brightest little foxes that ever lived. He wished that he could see them at their play. He wished to know if the men were still cutting down trees near White-ear's den. If this went on, White-ear would have to find a new home. It would be hard for her after living in that beautiful spot so long.
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