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

But he had no place to run to, so he hesitated. Never in all his life had Whitefoot had a greater disappointment. He knew now that this splendid house was not for him.

Timmy the Flying Squirrel didn’t move. He remained curled up in a soft little ball. He was asleep. Whitefoot remembered that Timmy sleeps during the day and seldom comes out until the Black Shadows come creeping out from the Purple Hills at the close of day. Whitefoot felt easier in his mind then. Timmy was so sound asleep that he knew nothing of his visitor. And so Whitefoot felt safe in staying long enough to get rested. Then he would go out and hunt for another home.

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

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 slept peacefully. He didn’t know he had a visitor. He didn’t know that on top of that same bed lay Whitefoot the Wood Mouse. Whitefoot wasn’t asleep. No, indeed! Whitefoot was too worried to sleep. He knew he couldn’t stay in that fine house because it belonged to 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 thought of that, he remembered Shadow the Weasel. It was better to be homeless than to feel that at any minute Shadow the Weasel might appear.

It was getting late in the afternoon. Before long, jolly, round, red Mr. Sun would go to bed behind the Purple Hills, and the Black Shadows would come creeping through the Green Forest. Then Timmy the Flying Squirrel would awake. “It won’t do for me to be here then,” said Whitefoot to himself. “I must find some other place before he wakes. If only I knew this part of the Green Forest I might know where to go. As it is, I shall have to go hunt for a new home and trust to luck. Did ever a poor little Mouse have so much trouble?”

After awhile Whitefoot felt rested and peeped out of the doorway. No enemy was to be seen anywhere. Whitefoot crept out and climbed a little higher up in the tree. Presently he found another hole. He peeped inside and listened long and carefully. He didn’t intend to make the mistake of going into another house where someone might be living.

At last, sure that there was no one in there, he crept in. Then he made 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’s storehouse. 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 anyone finds he may help himself to if he can.

So Whitefoot began to fill his empty little stomach with some of those seeds. 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 the sound of claws outside on the trunk of the tree. In a flash he knew that Timmy the Flying Squirrel was awake, and that it wouldn’t do to be found in there by him. In a jiffy Whitefoot was outside. He was just 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 leave his old home because of Shadow the Weasel, of the terrible journey he 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 mind that Whitefoot was telling the truth. The mere mention of Shadow the Weasel made him very sober.

He scratched his nose thoughtfully. “Over in that tall, dead stub you can see from here is an old home of mine,” said he. “No one lives in it now. I guess you can live there until you can find a better home. But remember to keep away from my storehouse.”

So it was that Whitefoot found a new home.

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 his legs would take him. Up the stub he climbed, and near the top he found 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 dry and soft. It was quite clear that no one had been in there for a long time. With a little sigh of pure happiness, Whitefoot curled up