Why should a Fox who has a bark
Want like an Owl to hoot?
Whitefoot was beginning to feel quite at home. He would have been
wholly contented but for one thing, --he had no well-filled storehouse.
This meant that each day he must hunt for his food.
It wasn't that Whitefoot minded hunting for food. He would have
done that anyway, even though he had had close at hand a store-house
with plenty in it. But he would have felt easier in his mind.
He would have had the comfortable feeling that if the weather turned
so bad that he could not easily get out and about, he would not have
to go hungry.
But Whitefoot is a happy little fellow and wisely made the best of
things. At first he came out very little by day. He knew that
there were many sharp eyes watching for him, and that he was more
likely to be seen in the light of day than when the Black Shadows
had crept all through the Green Forest.
He would peek out of his doorway and watch for chance visitors in
the daytime. Twice he saw Butcher the Shrike alight a short
distance from the tree in which Timmy lived.
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