Green Forest Stories, Thornton W. Burgess [ebook reader color screen .TXT] 📗

the Hare sat crouched at the foot of a tree in the Green Forest. Had you happened along there, you would not have seen him. At least, I doubt if you would. If you had seen him, you probably wouldn’t have known it. You see, in his white coat Jumper was so exactly the color of the snow that he looked like nothing more than a little heap of snow.

Just in front of Jumper was a little round hole. He gave it no attention. It didn’t interest him in the least. All through the Green Forest were little holes in the snow. Jumper was so used to them that he seldom noticed them. So he took no notice of this one until something moved down in that hole. Jumper’s eyes opened a little wider and he watched. A sharp little face with very bright eyes filled that little round hole. Jumper moved just the tiniest bit, and in a flash that sharp little face with the bright eyes disappeared.

Jumper sat still and waited. After a long wait the sharp little face with bright eyes appeared again. “Don’t be frightened, Whitefoot,” said Jumper softly.

At the first word the sharp little face disappeared, but in a moment it was back, and the sharp little eyes were fixed on Jumper suspiciously. After a long stare the suspicion left them, and out of the little round hole came trim little Whitefoot in a soft brown coat with white waistcoat and with white feet and a long, slim tail. This winter he was not living in Farmer Brown’s sugarhouse.

“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 more enemies,” replied Jumper thoughtfully. “It sometimes seems to me that I 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 and Sammy Jay in winter, and Buster Bear and Jimmy Skunk and several of the Snake family in summer,” replied Whitefoot. “It seems to me sometimes as if I need eyes and ears all over me. Night and day there is always someone hunting for poor little me. And then some folks wonder why I am so timid. If I were not as timid as I am, I wouldn’t be alive now; I would have been caught long ago. Folks may laugh at me for being so easily frightened, but I don’t care. That is what saves my life a dozen times a day.”

Jumper looked interested. “I hadn’t thought of that,” said he. “I’m a very timid person myself, and sometimes I have been ashamed of being so easily frightened. But come to think of it, I guess you are right; the more timid I am, the longer I am likely to live.”

Whitefoot suddenly darted into his hole. Jumper didn’t move, but his eyes widened with fear. A great white bird had just alighted on a stump a short distance away. It was Whitey the Snowy Owl, down from the Far North.

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

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 as the snow around them unless you had looked very closely. Then you might have seen two narrow black lines back of Jumper’s head. They were the tips of his ears, for these remain black. And near the upper part of the white mound which was Whitey you might have seen two round yellow spots, his eyes.

There they were for all the world like two little heaps of snow. Jumper didn’t move so much as a hair. Whitey didn’t move so much as a feather. Both were waiting and watching. Jumper didn’t move because he knew that Whitey was there. Whitey didn’t move because he didn’t want anyone to know he was there, and didn’t know that Jumper was there. Jumper was sitting still because he was afraid. Whitey was sitting still because he was hungry.

So there they sat, each in plain sight of the other but only one seeing the other. This was because Jumper had been fortunate enough to see Whitey alight on that stump. Jumper had been sitting still when Whitey arrived, and so those fierce yellow eyes had not yet seen him. But had Jumper so much as lifted one of those long ears, Whitey would have seen, and his great claws would have been reaching for Jumper.

Jumper didn’t want to sit still. No, indeed! He wanted to run. You know it is on those long legs of his that Jumper depends almost wholly for safety. But there are times for running and times for sitting still, and this was a time for sitting still. He knew that Whitey didn’t know that he was anywhere near. But just the same it was hard, very hard to sit there with one he so greatly feared watching so near. It seemed as if those fierce yellow eyes of Whitey must see him. They seemed to look right through him. They made him shake inside.

“I want to run. I want to run. I want to run,” Jumper kept saying to himself. Then he would say, “But I mustn’t. I mustn’t. I mustn’t.”

And so Jumper did the hardest thing in the world⁠—sat still