Whitefoot the Wood Mouse | Page 5

to heedlessness or carelessness. It was heedlessness
that got Whitefoot into one of the worst mishaps of his whole life.
He had been running and jumping all around the inside of the little
sugar-house. He loves to run and jump, and he had been having just the
best time ever. Finally Whitefoot ran along the old bench and jumped
from the end of it for a box standing on end, which Farmer Brown's
boy sometimes used to sit on. It wasn't a very long jump, but somehow
Whitefoot misjudged it. He was heedless, and he didn't jump quite far
enough. Right beside that box was a tin pail half filled with sap. Instead
of landing on the box, Whitefoot landed with a splash in that pail of
sap.

CHAPTER VII

: Whitefoot Gives Up Hope
Whitefoot had been in many tight places. Yes, indeed, Whitefoot had
been in many tight places. He had had narrow escapes of all kinds. But
never had he felt so utterly hopeless as now. The moment he landed in
that sap, Whitefoot began to swim frantically. He isn't a particularly
good swimmer, but he could swim well enough to keep afloat for a
while. His first thought was to scramble up the side of the tin pail, but
when he reached it and tried to fasten his sharp little claws into it in
order to climb, he discovered that he couldn't. Sharp as they were, his
little claws just slipped, and his struggles to get up only resulted in
tiring him out and in plunging him wholly beneath the sap. He came up
choking and gasping. Then round and round inside that pail he paddled,
stopping every two or three seconds to try to climb up that hateful,
smooth, shiny wall.
The more he tried to climb out, the more frightened he became.
He was in a perfect panic of fear. He quite lost his head, did Whitefoot.
The harder he struggled, the more tired he became, and the greater was
his danger of drowning.
Whitefoot squeaked pitifully. He didn't want to drown. Of course not.
He wanted to live. But unless he could get out of that pail very soon, he
would drown. He knew it. He knew that he couldn't hold on much
longer. He knew that just as soon as he stopped paddling, he would
sink. Already he was so tired from his frantic efforts to escape that it
seemed to him that he couldn't hold out any longer. But somehow he
kept his legs moving, and so kept afloat.
Just why he kept struggling, Whitefoot couldn't have told. It wasn't
because he had any hope. He didn't have the least bit of hope. He knew
now that he couldn't climb the sides of that pail, and there was no other
way of getting out. Still he kept on paddling. It was the only way to
keep from drowning, and though he felt sure that he had got to drown
at last, he just wouldn't until he actually had to. And all the time
Whitefoot squeaked hopelessly, despairingly, pitifully. He did it
without knowing that he did it, just as he kept paddling round and
round.

CHAPTER VIII

: The Rescue
When Whitefoot made the heedless jump that landed him in a pail half
filled with sap, no one else was in the little sugar-house. Whitefoot was
quite alone. You see, Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown's boy were out
collecting sap from the trees, and Bowser the Hound was with them.
Farmer Brown's boy was the first to return. He came in just after
Whitefoot had given up all hope. He went at once to the fire to put
more wood on. As he finished this job he heard the faintest of little
squeaks. It was a very pitiful little squeak. Farmer Brown's boy stood
perfectly still and listened. He heard it again. He knew right away that
it was the voice of Whitefoot.
"Hello!" exclaimed Farmer Brown's boy. "That sounds as if Whitefoot
is in trouble of some kind. I wonder where the little rascal is. I wonder
what can have happened to him. I must look into this." Again Farmer
Brown's boy heard that faint little squeak. It was so faint that he
couldn't tell where it came from. Hurriedly and anxiously he looked all
over the little sugar-house, stopping every few seconds to listen for that
pitiful little squeak. It seemed to come from nowhere in particular. Also
it was growing fainter.
At last Farmer Brown's boy happened to stand still close to that tin pail
half filled with sap. He heard the faint little squeak again and with it a
little splash. It was the sound of the little splash that led him to look
down. In a