If I can find
food enough near here, I'll make this my home. I couldn't ask for a
better one."
Chuckling happily, Whitefoot began to pull away the top of that
bed so as to get to the middle of it. And then he got a surprise.
It was an unpleasant surprise. It was a most unpleasant surprise.
There was some one in that bed! Yes, sir, there was some one curled
up in a little round ball in the middle of that fine bed. It was
some one with a coat of the softest, finest fur. Can you guess who
it was? It was Timmy the Flying Squirrel.
It seemed to Whitefoot as if his heart flopped right over. You see
at first he didn't recognize Timmy. Whitefoot is himself so very
timid that his thought was to run; to get out of there as quickly as
possible. 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.
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