hung and explore the pockets of it. Once he
stole Farmer Brown's boy's handkerchief. He wanted it to add to the
material his nest was made of. Farmer Brown's boy discovered it just as
it was disappearing, and how he laughed as he pulled it away.

So, what with eating and sleeping and playing about, secure in the
feeling that no harm could come to him, Whitefoot was happier than ever
before in his little life. He knew that Farmer Brown's boy and Farmer
Brown and Bowser the Hound were his friends. He knew, too, that so long
as they were about, none of his enemies would dare come near. This being
so, of course there was nothing to be afraid of. No harm could possibly
come to him. At least, that is what Whitefoot thought.

But you know, enemies are not the only dangers to watch out for.
Accidents will happen. When they do happen, it is very likely to be when
the possibility of them is farthest from your thoughts. Almost always
they are due 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, s