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"No, Whitefoot, no," said his master, and the dog's waving tail dropped suddenly. "I know you would go to Jean or even find Patsy through the gates of Castle Raincy, but it would do no good. I am not of her world. I am only the 'fechtin' fool. Not that I am complaining, Whitefoot that is what you and I are for, Whitefoot. We have fought before and may again.
His father had told him about Whitefoot; and he hoped he should see the funny looking creature; but to take a ride in the little carriage, was more than he had ever dreamed of. "Thank you, Master Bertie. I expect Jerry would be tickled enough; but 'tisn't just the thing for you to be carrying the likes of him." "You've carried me on your drag," Herbert answered, laughing.
I know he can't get me. I'm perfectly safe. I'm just as safe as if he were miles away. There's nothing to be afraid of. It is silly to be afraid. Probably Hooty doesn't even know I am inside here. Even if he does, it doesn't really matter." Whitefoot said these things to himself over and over again.
"Just as if I didn't have troubles enough without having this white robber to add to them," grumbled Whitefoot. "Why doesn't he stay where he belongs, way up in the Far North? It must be that food is scarce up there. Well, now that I know he is here, he will have to be smarter than I think he is to catch me. I hope Jumper the Hare will have sense enough to keep perfectly still.
Mamma drew her son to her side, and kissed her approval of his conduct. In five minutes he was trotting Whitefoot out of the yard, his smiles as bright, and his brow serene as ever. At noon, Bertie was obliged to hurry through his lunch, in order to be back in time for the afternoon session, which commenced at one o'clock, so that it often happened that he did not see his father till night.
Yet there was no one in all the Green Forest more feared by the little people in fur, by Jumper, by Peter Rabbit, by Whitefoot, even by Chatterer the Red Squirrel. "Perhaps," thought Jumper, "he won't find my scent after all. Perhaps he'll go in another direction." But all the time Jumper felt in his bones that Shadow would find that scent. "When he does, I'll run," said Jumper to himself.
These were long days, and by the evening many of the remnants of household stuff had been brought, the cows and Whitefoot had been tied up in their dilapidated shed, with all the hay Stead could gather together to make them feel at home. There was a hollow under the rock where he hoped to keep the pigs, but neither they nor the sheep could be brought in at present.
This mutilation of character must have happened, among many others, to sir Thomas Browne, had it not been delineated by his friend Mr. Whitefoot, "who esteemed it an especial favour of providence, to have had a particular acquaintance with him for two-thirds of his life." Part of his observations I shall therefore copy.
"Well," said Stair, considering, "I don't think that Whitefoot could go directly to Supsorrow and find out your uncle. But he could take a message to Jean, if he were put a little bit on the road say through the Blue Hills glen and over the old bridge of Dee. I daresay he could make it even from here, but he has never been past Dee Bridge by land.
Instantly Danny Meadow Mouse scurried under a pile of dead leaves. Whitefoot the Wood Mouse darted into a knothole in the log on which he had been sitting. Jumper the Hare dodged behind a little hemlock tree. Peter Rabbit bolted for a hollow log. Striped Chipmunk vanished in a hole under an old stump. Johnny Chuck backed up against the trunk of a tree and made ready to fight.
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