So Whitefoot formed the habit of doing just what Timmy the Flying Squirrel did; he remained in his house for most of the day and came out when the Black Shadows began to creep in among the trees.  Timmy came out about the same time, and they had become the best of friends.

Now Whitefoot is not much given to envying others, but as night after night he watched Timmy a little envy crept into his heart in spite of all he could do.  Timmy would nimbly climb to the top of a tree and then jump.  Down he would come in a long beautiful glide, for all the world as if he were sliding on the air.

The first time Whitefoot saw him do it he held his breath.  He really didn’t know what to make of it.  The nearest tree to the one from which Timmy had jumped was so far away that it didn’t seem possible any one without wings could reach it without first going to the ground.

“Oh!” squeaked Whitefoot.  “Oh! he’ll kill himself!  He surely will kill himself!  He’ll break his neck!” But Timmy did nothing of the kind.  He sailed down, down, down and alighted on that distant tree a foot or two from the bottom; and without stopping a second scampered up to the top of that tree and once more jumped.  Whitefoot had hard work to believe his own eyes.  Timmy seemed to be jumping just for the pleasure of it.  As a matter of fact, he was.  He was getting his evening exercise.

Whitefoot sighed.  “I wish I could jump like that,” said he to himself.  “I wouldn’t ever be afraid of anybody if I could jump like that.  I envy Timmy.  I do so.”

CHAPTER XXII:  Timmy Proves To Be A True Neighbor

   He proves himself a neighbor true
   Who seeks a kindly deed to do.
     — Whitefoot.

Occasionally Timmy the Flying Squirrel came over to visit Whitefoot.  If Whitefoot was in his house he always knew when Timmy arrived.  He would hear a soft thump down near the bottom of the tall stub.  He would know instantly that thump was made by Timmy striking the foot of the stub after a long jump from the top of a tree.  Whitefoot would poke his head out of his doorway and there, sure enough, would be Timmy scrambling up towards him.

Whitefoot had grown to admire Timmy with all his might.  It seemed to him that Timmy was the most wonderful of all the people he knew.  You see there was none of the others who could jump as Timmy could.  Timmy on his part enjoyed having Whitefoot for a neighbor.  Few of the little people of the Green Forest are more timid than Timmy the Flying Squirrel, but here was one beside whom Timmy actually felt bold.  It was such a new feeling that Timmy enjoyed it.

So it was that in the dusk of early evening, just after the Black Shadows had come creeping out from the Purple Hills across the Green Meadows and through the Green Forest, these two little neighbors would start out to hunt for food.  Whitefoot never went far from the tall, dead stub in which he was now living.  He didn’t dare to.  He wanted to be where at the first sign of danger he could scamper back there to safety.  Timmy would go some distance, but he was seldom gone long.  He liked to be where he could watch and talk with Whitefoot.  You see Timmy is very much like other people, —­ he likes to gossip a little.