But most of all he feared Reddy Fox. He never could be quite sure when Reddy was about. Sometimes it would be in broad daylight, and sometimes in the stilly night. The worst of it was, Reddy seemed to know all about the ways of meadow-mice, and would lie perfectly still beside a little path until an unsuspecting mouse came along. Then there would be a sudden spring, a little squeak cut short right in the middle, and there would be one less happy little worker and playmate. So Tommy learned to look and listen before he started for any place, and then to scurry as fast as ever he could.
Twice Mr. Gopher Snake almost caught him, and once he got away from Billy Mink by squeezing into a hole between some roots too small for Billy to get in. It was a very exciting life, very exciting indeed. He couldn’t understand why, when all he wanted was to be allowed to mind his own business and work and play in peace, he must be forever running or hiding for his life. He loved the sweet meadow-grasses and the warm sunshine. He loved to hear the bees humming and the birds singing. He thought the Green Meadows the most beautiful place in all the Great World, and he was very happy when he wasn’t frightened; but there was hardly an hour of the day or night that he didn’t have at least one terrible fright.
Still, it was good to be alive and explore new places. There was a big rock in front of him right now. He wondered if there was anything to eat on top of it. Sometimes he found the very nicest seeds in the cracks of big rocks. This one looked as if it would not be very hard to scramble up on. He felt almost sure that he would find some treasure up there. He looked this way and that way to make sure no one was watching. Then he scrambled up on the big rock.
For a few minutes, Tommy stared out over the Green Meadows. They were very beautiful. It seemed to him that they never had been so beautiful, or the songs of the birds so sweet, or the Merry Little Breezes, the children of Old Mother West Wind, so soft and caressing. He couldn’t understand it all, for he wasn’t a meadow-mouse—just a barefooted boy sitting on a big stone that was just made to sit on.
As he looked down, he became aware of two very small bright eyes watching him from a little opening in the grass. He knew them right away. Of course he did. They were the eyes of Danny Meadow Mouse. They were filled with curiosity, a little doubtful, a little fearful, but tremendously interested. Tommy smiled, and felt in his pocket for some cracker-crumbs. Danny ran away at the first move, but Tommy scattered the crumbs where he could find them, as he was sure to come back.
Tommy stood up and stretched. Then he turned and looked curiously at the stone on which he had been sitting. “I believe it’s a real wishing-stone,” said he. Then he laughed aloud. “I’m glad I’m not a meadow-mouse, but just a boy!” he cried. “I guess those cows are wondering what has become of me.”
He started toward the pasture, and now there was no frown darkening his freckled face. It was clear and good to see, and he whistled as he trampled along. Once he stopped and grinned sheepishly as his blue eyes drank in the beauty of the Green Meadows and beyond them the Green Forest. “And I said there was nothing interesting or exciting going on here! Why, it’s the most exciting place I ever heard of, only I didn’t know it before!” he muttered. “Gee, I am glad I’m not a meadow-mouse, and if ever I throw sticks or stones at one again, I—well I hope I turn into one!”
And though Danny Meadow Mouse, timidly nibbling at the cracker-crumbs, didn’t know it, he had one less enemy to be afraid of!