“I think I will.”
But he didn’t get far before a swarm of birds swept down upon him. There were Piney the Purple Finch, Towhee the Chewink, Mrs. Phoebe Bird, Shrike the Butcher Bird, Mr. Woodpecker, Mr. and Mrs. Pine Grosbeak, Mr. Crested Flycatcher, and all their families and friends. They came in dense clouds, shrieking, crying and making a great noise.
“Run! Run!” they cried as they flew over his head. “The fire will soon be here, Bumper! Run for your life!”
“I’m going to,” said Bumper.
But once more he was so startled by a sudden interruption that he couldn’t move. Out of the bushes appeared Mr. Fox, running as if his life depended upon it. Bumper crouched to hide, but Mr. Fox only gave him a side glance, and shouted:
“Run, Bumper! Run to the river! The fire’s coming!”
Bumper was so surprised that Mr. Fox should stop long enough to warn him that he simply stared and waited. Even his worst enemy wasn’t entirely bad, not if he would take the trouble to warn him when a great danger threatened every living thing in the woods.
“I’ll remember that, and not think so badly of Mr. Fox,” he said.
Then he thought of his own safety, and was ready once more to run home to warn his people of the danger; but out of the bushes at his feet came a pitiful wailing cry. Bumper stopped, and looked down. It was little Spotty the Chameleon, whose bright colors now were all dark and splotched.
“O Bumper,” he wailed, “I can’t get away from the fire. I hurt my leg, and can’t run at all. I’ll be roasted alive.”