LITTLE WHITE FOX COMES HOME
When Little White Fox looked all around him very carefully, this way and
that, and didn't see a thing he had ever seen before and not a person
who knew him in all this new tundra and all these new hills, he felt
very blue, you may be sure. But he didn't cry about it. He was too happy
at being off that bit of roof to the great ocean for that. So he looked
as far as he could see in every direction, and at last he spied some
little lakes way down on the tundra. "I'll just go over there and see if
there is any one I know," he said to himself, and went trotting away as
fast as ever he could. He came right down by the lakes and at last he
saw some one he had met in his own home land. It was Mr. Widgeon Junior,
a son of Old Mrs. Widgeon Duck, who was killed by Omnok the hunter.
"Hello," said Little White Fox.
Widgeon Junior looked up quick, in a frightened sort of way, but he
never said a word. He just stretched out his long neck and flapped his
strong wings and began to fly. And all the time he pointed with his bill
straight ahead and with his feet straight behind, as if to say, "Follow
me; this is the way home."
"I just believe that _is_ the way home!" said Little White Fox. "His
mother had her nest right down on our tundra last summer, and I believe
he is going there right now!" So he picked up his feet lively and ran
along behind Widgeon Junior but he couldn't near keep up! It wasn't any
time at all before he was so far behind that he couldn't see Widgeon
Junior at all! And before long he was just as badly lost as before. But
he trotted on cheerfully, "For," he said to himself, "I'll see some one
else I know very soon."
And sure enough, all of a sudden there was a clap, clap of wings, and
some one that looked just like Who-Who, the big white owl, went soaring
over his head. But when Little White Fox shouted "Hello" in his very
best voice, the great white owl never answered a word, but went flapping
on till he lit on the top of a whalebone which one of Omnok's relatives
had put up to mark a grave.
"Well," said Little White Fox to himself, "I guess that isn't Who-Who,
but anyway, it is one of his cousins, and he is very wise. All the Owl
folks are. He will tell me the way home."
So he hurried over to the foot of the whalebone and said, "Please, Mr.
White Owl, won't you tell me the way home?"
The big white owl never answered a word, but he winked his eye very
cunningly, as much as to say, "Look, I'll show you." Then he flapped his
great, white wings, and away he flew, and away after him, as fast as
ever he could trot, came Little White Fox, never once looking this way
or that to see where he was going, so proud was he to be able almost to
keep up with this new friend. He ran and ran and ran until he was out of
breath, when he saw the big, white owl spread his wings out straight and
light on a whalebone sticking right out of the ground and looking for
all the world like the one he had flown away from just a little while
before. Little White Fox ran up to the whalebone and looked up at the
big white owl.
The big white owl closed one eye and winked very knowingly as if to say,
"Am I not a very wise old owl?"
Little White Fox looked all around at the tundra and the hills, and sure
enough, that was the very same whalebone, sticking up out of the ground!
The big white owl had led him a long way, all around in a circle! You
may be sure Little White Fox was disgusted. He would never ask another
thing of a big white owl again, if he lived a thousand years! But away
he trotted toward some other little ponds he had seen some time before.
He was slipping along as quietly as he could in the grass when he heard
a splash, splash in the water, and there was Mrs. Swan. Of all the
people in all the world, besides his own dear mother, Little White Fox
liked Mrs. Swan best! Her white gown was always so smooth and tidy, her
neck so graceful, and she seemed so kind, that Little White Fox thought
she was just the most perfect lady that ever was! To be sure he had been
tempted once to steal one of the big eggs out of her great nest, on the
beach the summer before, but he hadn't done it, and now, you may be very
sure, he was glad he hadn't, for perhaps she would tell him the way
home.
"Please, Mrs. Swan," he said, making a very graceful bow, "will you tell
me the way home?" Mrs. Swan looked at him very kindly but never said a
word. Very soon she flapped her great, white wings, and putting her bill
right out before her and her feet straight behind, out she went flapping
away to the northward. Then Little White Fox knew that was the way home,
for she was going back to his own dear beach to make a new nest and to
hatch out some more little Swanfolks.
[Illustration: She was going back to his own dear beach. _Page 128_]
I wish I had time to tell you of all the adventures that befell Little
White Fox on his way home, but I haven't. Perhaps some other time we
will hear all about that. But one day, when the sun was shining brightly
and the flowers were beginning to bloom, who should little Mrs. White
Fox see come trotting up the path by the big rock but her own long-lost
son, Little White Fox. And you may well believe that she was glad to see
him! She had thought she would never see him again. And the things he
had to tell her! How she did listen, and how the other little Foxes,
Violet Blue Fox and Little Cross Fox and the Silver Fox twins and all
the rest, how they listened! Oh, Little White Fox was quite a person in
his family that evening! But when he had been given a good dinner with a
piece of blueberry pie such as only Little Mrs. White Fox can make, and
had curled himself up on the moss cot by the side of the great rock, he
went to sleep thinking that after all there was no place in all the
world like his own home under the big rock, and no one in all the world
quite so good as his own mother; and he felt very, very sure that he
would be careful in the future and not let anything carry him away from
her.