“Dreadfully,” declared Peter. “But do you suppose I would let any harm come to you? A nice kind of a friend you must think me!”
“No,” replied Bob White soberly, “I don't think you would let any harm come to us if you knew it. But you've lived long enough, Peter, to know that there are eyes and ears and noses watching, listening, smelling everywhere all the time. Now supposing that when you were sure that nobody saw you, somebody did see you visit my house. Or supposing Reddy Fox just happened to run across your tracks and followed them to my house. It wouldn't be your fault if something dreadful happened to us, yet you would be the cause of it. You remember what I told you the other day, that there are some things it is better not to know.”
Peter looked very thoughtful and pulled his whiskers while he turned this over in his mind. “That is a new idea to me,” said he at last. “I never had thought of it before. I certainly never would be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you because of me.”
“Of course you wouldn't,” replied Bob White. “No more would I ever be able to forgive myself if anything happened to my family because I had told some one where my home is.”
Peter nodded. “Of course if I should just happen to find your home all by myself, you wouldn't be angry, would you?” he asked.
Bob White laughed. “Of course not,” said he. “Just the same I would advise you not to try to find it. Then you will have nothing to trouble your mind if you should be followed, and something dreadful did happen to me or mine. You see there are just as many who would like to make a dinner of me as there are who would like to make a dinner of you, and I would a whole lot rather sit on a fence-post and whistle than to fill somebody's stomach.”
“And I would a lot rather have you,” declared Peter.