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Updated: August 20, 2024
Then, for such is his way, he wasted no more time or thought on Jumper the Hare. Instead he began to look for other trails. So it was that he found one of the little holes of Whitefoot the Wood Mouse. "Ha! So this is where Whitefoot has been living this winter!" he exclaimed. Once more his eyes glowed red, but this time with eagerness and the joy of the hunt.
This seems to me like a very fine home, but of course, if you don't like it we'll look for another." Mrs. Whitefoot said nothing, but led the way down the tree with Whitefoot meekly following. Then began a patient search all about. Mrs. Whitefoot appeared to know just what she wanted and turned up her nose at several places Whitefoot thought would make fine homes.
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 is a very good house for winter, but it won't do at all for summer. That is, it won't do for me.
"He is a pretty little fellow, if anything a trifle bigger than you, Whitefoot, and he is dressed much like you with a yellowish-brown coat and white waistcoat. He has just such a long tail covered with hair its whole length. But you should see his ears. He has the largest ears of any member of the whole family. That is why he is called Bigear.
Tell us, Whitefoot, where you make your home and what you eat." "My home just now," replied Whitefoot, "is in a certain hollow in a certain dead limb of a certain tree. I suspect that a member of the Woodpecker family made that hollow, but no one was living there when I found it. Mrs. Whitefoot and I have made a soft, warm nest there and wouldn't trade homes with any one.
He went at once to the fire to put more wood on. As he finished this job he heard the faintest of little squeaks. It was a very pitiful little squeak. Farmer Brown's boy stood perfectly still and listened. He heard it again. He knew right away that it was the voice of Whitefoot. "Hello!" exclaimed Farmer Brown's boy. "That sounds as if Whitefoot is in trouble of some kind.
Stair was instantly in pursuit. It was not a time when he could afford to overlook anything. A man it was, certainly, for the moment the thicker underbrush was reached he rose half erect and went plunging head foremost into it. But Whitefoot was before him, and had him by the throat before he could run ten yards.
"Down, dog, down!" said his master, and at the word Whitefoot dropped back on all fours, obedient but content. It now was past the hour of twelve. The central night stood still. The little chill breeze which ruffles the waves an hour or so in early morning had not yet begun to blow. Stair had been about the House of Rathan half-a-dozen of times.
But Old Mother Nature had sent for him and not once did he even think of disobeying. "Did you say that school begins at sun-up?" he asked, and when Chatterer nodded Whitefoot sighed. It was a sigh of relief. "I'm glad of that," said he. "I can travel in the night, which will be much safer. I'll be there. That is, I will if I am not caught on the way."
You'll have a good deal of sitting in the carriage, holding Whitefoot, so if you think you shall be cold or tired, don't scruple to say so, and I'll take Adams to drive me." "No, thank you," said Norman briskly. "This frost is famous." "It will turn to rain, I expect it is too white," said the doctor, looking out at the window. "How will you get to Cocksmoor, good people?"
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