Green Forest Stories - Thornton W. Burgess (sad books to read .TXT) 📗

be looking for my home, yet they have been so good to me that it is hard to believe they mean any harm. I do hope they will stop taking this wood away. I won’t have any hiding-place at all, and then I will have to go outside back to my old home in the hollow stump. I don’t want to do that. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I was so happy and now I am so worried! Why can’t happy times last always?” V The End of Whitefoot’s Worries

You never can tell! You never can tell!
Things going wrong will often end well.

Whitefoot

The next time you meet him just ask Whitefoot if this isn’t so. Things had been going very wrong for Whitefoot. It had begun to look to Whitefoot as if he would no longer have a snug, hidden little home in Farmer Brown’s sugar-house. The pile of wood under which he had made that snug little home was disappearing so fast that it began to look as if in a little while there would be no wood at all.

Whitefoot quite lost his appetite. He no longer came out to take food from Farmer Brown’s boy’s hand. He stayed right in his snug little home and worried.

Now Farmer Brown’s boy had not once thought of the trouble he was making. He wondered what had become of Whitefoot, and in his turn he began to worry. He was afraid that something had happened to his little friend. He was thinking of this as he fed the sticks of wood to the fire for boiling the sap to make syrup and sugar. Finally, as he pulled away two big sticks, he saw something that made him whistle with surprise. It was Whitefoot’s nest which he had so cleverly hidden way down underneath that pile of wood when he had first moved into the sugar-house. With a frightened little squeak, Whitefoot ran out, scurried across the little sugar-house and out though the open door.

Farmer Brown’s boy understood. He understood perfectly that little people like Whitefoot want their homes hidden away in the dark. “Poor little chap,” said Farmer Brown’s boy. “He had a regular castle here and we have destroyed it. He’s got the snuggest kind of a little nest here, but he won’t come back to it so long as it is right out in plain sight. He probably thinks we have been hunting for this little home of his. Hello! Here’s his storehouse! I’ve often wondered how the little rascal could eat so much, but now I understand. He stored away here more than half of the good things I have given him. I am glad he did. If he hadn’t, he might not come back, but I feel sure that tonight, when all is quiet, he will come back to take away all his food. I must do something to keep him here.”

Farmer Brown’s boy sat down to think things over. Then he got an old box and made a little round hole in one end of it. Very carefully he took up Whitefoot’s nest and placed it under the old box in the darkest corner of the sugar-house. Then he carried all Whitefoot’s supplies over there and put them under the box. He went outside, and got some branches of hemlock and threw these in a little pile over the box. After this he scattered some crumbs just outside.

Late that night Whitefoot did come back. The crumbs led him to the old box. He crept inside. There was his snug little home! All in a second Whitefoot understood, and trust and happiness returned.

VI A Very Careless Jump

Whitefoot once more was happy. When he found his snug little nest and his store of food under that old box in the darkest corner of Farmer Brown’s sugar-house, he knew that Farmer Brown’s boy must have placed them there. It was better than the old place under the woodpile. It was the best place for a home Whitefoot ever had had. It didn’t take him long to change his mind about leaving the little sugar-house. Somehow he seemed to know right down inside that his home would not again be disturbed.

So he proceeded to rearrange his nest and to put all his supplies of food in one corner of the old box. When everything was placed to suit him he ventured out, for now that he no longer feared Farmer Brown’s boy he wanted to see all that was going on. He liked to jump up on the bench where Farmer Brown’s boy sometimes sat. He would climb up to where Farmer Brown’s boy’s coat hung and explore the pockets of it. Once he stole Farmer Brown’s boy’s handkerchief. He wanted it to add to the material his nest was made of. Farmer Brown’s boy discovered it just as it was disappearing, and how he laughed as he pulled it away.

So, what with eating and sleeping and playing about, secure in the feeling that no harm could come to him, Whitefoot was happier than ever before in his little life. He knew that Farmer Brown’s boy and Farmer Brown and Bowser the Hound were his friends. He knew, too, that so long as they were about, none of his enemies would dare come near. This being so, of course there was nothing to be afraid of. No harm could possibly come to him. At least, that is what Whitefoot thought.

But you know, enemies are not the only dangers to watch out for. Accidents will happen. When they do happen, it is very likely to be when the possibility of them is farthest from your thoughts. Almost always they are due to heedlessness or carelessness. It was heedlessness that got Whitefoot into one of the worst mishaps of his whole life.

He had been running and jumping all around the inside of the little sugar-house. He loves to run and jump, and he had been