s more likely to be a hollow in a dead tree than in a living tree. By
and by he came to a tall, dead tree. He knew it was a dead tree, because
there was no bark on it. But, of course, he couldn't tell whether or not
that tree was hollow. I mean he couldn't tell from the ground.

"Oh, dear!" he whimpered again. "Oh, dear! I suppose I will have to
climb this, and I am so tired. It ought to be hollow. There ought to
be splendid holes in it. It is just the kind of a tree that Drummer the
Woodpecker likes to make his house in. I shall be terribly disappointed
if I don't find one of his houses somewhere in it, but I wish I hadn't
got to climb it to find out. Well, here goes."

He looked anxiously this way. He looked anxiously that way. He looked
anxiously the other way. In fact, he looked anxiously every way.

But he saw no one and nothing to be afraid of, and so he started up the
tree.

He was half-way up when, glancing down, he saw a shadow moving across
the snow. Once more Whitefoot's heart seemed to jump right up in his
throat. That shadow was the shadow of some one flying. There couldn't be
the least bit of doubt about it. Whitefoot flattened himself against the
side of the tree and peeked around it. He was just in time to see a gray
and black and white bird almost the size of Sammy Jay alight in the very
next tree. He had come along near the ground and then risen sharply into
the tree. His bill was black, and there was just a tiny hook on the end
of it. Whitefoot knew who it was. It was Butcher the Shrike. Whitefoot
shivered.

CHAPTER XVII: Whitefoot Finds A Hole Just In Time

Just in time, not just too late,
Will make you master of your fate.
--Whitefoot.

Whitefoot, half-way up that dead tree, flattened himself against the
trunk and, with his heart going pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat with fright, peered
around the tree at an enemy he had not seen for so long that he had
quite forgotten there was such a one. It was Butcher the Shrike. Often
he is called just Butcher Bird. He did not look at all terrible. He was
not quite as big as Sammy Jay. He had no terrible claws like the Hawks
and Owls. There was a tiny hook at the end of his black bill, but it
wasn't big enough to look very dreadful. But you can not always judge a
person by looks, and Whitefoot knew that Butcher was one to be feared.

So his heart went pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat as he wondered if Butcher had
seen him. He didn't have to wait long to find o