If Whitefoot was in his house he always knew when Timmy arrived.
He would hear a soft thump down near the bottom of the tall stub.
He would know instantly that thump was made by Timmy striking the
foot of the stub after a long jump from the top of a tree.
Whitefoot would poke his head out of his doorway and there, sure
enough, would be Timmy scrambling up towards him.
Whitefoot had grown to admire Timmy with all his might. It seemed
to him that Timmy was the most wonderful of all the people he knew.
You see there was none of the others who could jump as Timmy could.
Timmy on his part enjoyed having Whitefoot for a neighbor. Few of
the little people of the Green Forest are more timid than Timmy the
Flying Squirrel, but here was one beside whom Timmy actually felt
bold. It was such a new feeling that Timmy enjoyed it.
So it was that in the dusk of early evening, just after the Black
Shadows had come creeping out from the Purple Hills across the Green
Meadows and through the Green Forest, these two little neighbors
would start out to hunt for food. Whitefoot never went far from
the tall, dead stub in which he was now living.
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