BEDTIME STORY

New Zealand Times, Volume LI, Issue 11738, 28 January 1924, Page 12

BEDTIME STORY

PETER RABBIT TRACKS HIS I NEIGHBOURS. (By Thornton W. Burgess). ' It ivas a perfectly glorious night. Mistress Moon flooded the Green Meadows and the Green Forest iyith silvery light, and the white snow which covered every : thing 'helped to make still more light. In fact it was almost as light as day, it ceemed to Peter Rabbit. In spite of all little Mrs Peter could say he had started for the Green Forest just as soon as jolly, round, red Mr Sun had gone to bed behind the Purple Hills. “•It’s just like visiting a new world,” thought Peter as ho reached the edge of the Green Forest. "I do wish that Fuzzy wasn't so timid." By Fuzzy he meant little Mrs Peter, who you know, was once Miss Fuzzytail. “She thinks that just because my coat is brown and everything else is white it is a great deal more dangerous here than when there isn't any snow. She doesn't know what wonderful 'hiding piaces there are everywhere now. The snow has bent down all those little hemlock trees ai.d the lowest branches on the big hemlock trees so that under them are the most wonderful caves. Why, “I can jump cut of sight almost anywhere here. Hello! I wonder who made those funny track?. I believe I'll follow'them and find out.” The tracks were j ust the tiniest of little dots with a tiny little line between the two rows. That line puzzled Peter. You know he is not used to tracking his neighbours. Of course the double row of dots were the prints of tiny feet, but what made the ine? Peter followed as fast as he could, which wasn’t so very fast, because the tracks wound about so much. Presently they led to an old log covered with snow. In one side of it was a little hole, and right there cho tracks ended. “Hello!” called Peter. "Hello yourself and see how yon like it!” replied a squeaky little voice. Peter chuckled. He knew that voice. “Why don’t you come out and be polite when you have callers?" he said. “Hid you say callers P Who is with you. Peter Rabhit?” asked a squeaky voice. "Well, a caller, if you like that better. There is no one with me," replied Peter. Right away a pretty little head with the loveliest soft eyes appeared at the hole. It was Whitefoot the Woodmouse. Excuse me, Peter, if I seemed to be a little bit impolite," said he. "I have to be very careful these days. I can’t afford to take any chances when there are so many hungry people about. How did you find me?” "Easv enough," replied Peter. "I just followed your tracks, though I didn't know whose they were." Whitefoot sighed. “That is the trouble with snow—it is a regular tell-tale," said he. "One cannot move while it is soft without leaving tracks. It tells all one’s secrets. Better watch out, Peter, that some of your enemies don’t catch you by means of your tracks: they aie verv easy to follow." not worrying," declared Peter. If they can see my tracks I can see theirs, so it is an even thing. It is great fun to follow tracks. By the way, Whitefoot, how do you make that funny little line between your footprints " With my toil, of course. How stupid of you not to know,” replied Whitefoot. A long tail is rather a nuisance sometimes, ’ he added. Peter chuckled. "Mine doesn’t bother me, ’ said he. I’m very glad to have found out about your tracks. Next time I will know them. Now ,1 am going to see who else I can follow. It isn’t often I have such a chance, and it is great fun. I expect I shall learn a whole lot about my neighbours." Watch out that they don’t learn some things about you that you would rather keep secret," warned Whitefoot. But Peter just laughed and went on his vay.