I shall be
terribly disappointed if I don't find one of his houses somewhere in
it, but I wish I hadn't got to climb it to find out. Well, here
goes."
He looked anxiously this way. He looked anxiously that way. He looked
anxiously the other way. In fact, he looked anxiously every way.
But he saw no one and nothing to be afraid of, and so he started up
the tree.
He was half-way up when, glancing down, he saw a shadow moving
across the snow. Once more Whitefoot's heart seemed to jump right
up in his throat. That shadow was the shadow of some one flying.
There couldn't be the least bit of doubt about it. Whitefoot
flattened himself against the side of the tree and peeked around it.
He was just in time to see a gray and black and white bird almost
the size of Sammy Jay alight in the very next tree. He had come
along near the ground and then risen sharply into the tree.
His bill was black, and there was just a tiny hook on the end of it.
Whitefoot knew who it was. It was Butcher the Shrike. Whitefoot
shivered.
CHAPTER XVII: Whitefoot Finds A Hole Just In Time
Just in time, not just too late,
Will make you master of your fate.
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