Then he watched Whitey swoop again and again as Shadow
dodged this way and that way. Finally both disappeared amongst the
trees. Then he turned just in time to see Jumper the Hare bounding
away with all the speed of his wonderful, long legs.
Fear, the greatest fear he had known for a long time, took possession
of Whitefoot. "Shadow the Weasel!" he gasped and had such a thing
been possible he certainly would have turned pale. "Whitey won't
catch him; Shadow is too quick for him. And when Whitey has given up
and flown away, Shadow will come back. He probably had found the
tracks of Jumper the Hare and he will come back. I know him; he'll
come back. Jumper is safe enough from him now, because he has such a
long start, but Shadow will be sure to find one of my holes in the snow.
Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What shall I do?"
You see Shadow the Weasel is the one enemy that can follow Whitefoot
into most of his hiding-places.
For a minute or two Whitefoot sat there, shaking with fright. Then
he made up his mind. "I'll get away from here before he returns,"
thought Whitefoot.
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