Whitefoot would not have minded this so much, had he not been so tired, and had he known of a hiding-place close at hand. But he was tired, very tired, for you remember he had had what was a very long and terrible journey to him. He had felt almost too tired to climb that tree in the first place to see if it had any holes in it higher up. Now he didn't know whether to keep on going up or to go down. Two or three times he dodged around the tree without doing either. Then he decided to go up.
Now Butcher was enjoying this game of dodge. If he should catch Whitefoot, he would have a good dinner. If he didn't catch Whitefoot, he would simply go hungry a little longer. So you see, there was a very big difference in the feelings of Whitefoot and Butcher. Whitefoot had his life to lose, while Butcher had only a dinner to lose.
Dodging this way and dodging that way, Whitefoot climbed higher and higher. Twice he whisked around that tree trunk barely in time. All the time he was growing more and more tired, and more and more discouraged. Supposing he should find no hole in that tree!
“There must be one. There must be one,” he kept saying over and over to himself, to keep his courage up. “I can't keep dodging much longer. If I don't find a hole pretty soon, Butcher will surely catch me. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”
Just above Whitefoot was a broken branch. Only the stub of it remained. The next time he dodged around the trunk he found himself just below that stub. Oh, joy! There, close under that stub, was a round hole. Whitefoot didn't hesitate a second. He didn't wait to find out whether or not any one was in that hole. He didn't even think that there might be some one in there. With a tiny little squeak of relief he darted in. He was just in time. He was just in the nick of time. Butcher struck at him and just missed him as he disappeared in that hole. Whitefoot had saved his life and Butcher had missed a dinner.
CHAPTER XVIII: An Unpleasant Surprise
Be careful never to be rude
Enough to thoughtlessly intrude.
—Whitefoot.
If ever anybody in the Great World felt relief and thankfulness, it was Whitefoot when he dodged into that hole in the dead tree just as Butcher the Shrike all but caught him. For a few minutes he did nothing but pant, for he was quite out of breath.
“I was right,” he said over and over to himself, “I was right. I was sure there must be a hole in this tree. It is one of the old houses of Drummer the Woodpecker. Now I am safe.”