. But he dug in his toes and hid his nose, and closed his eyes
very tight. Pretty soon Big White Bear thought of something he wanted
to do and tumbled back into the sea.

Little White Fox floated on and on, for hours and hours and hours, over
the silent sea. But by and by when he was very, very hungry and very
sure that he would never see his dear home and his dear mother again,
there came a dreadful storm. Little White Fox had to dig his toe nails
in tight, again, and once the piece of the roof broke right in two and
nearly threw him into the sea! But finally he felt a bump. His piece of
roof had struck something hard. Bump! Bump! He nearly stood on his head,
and in a minute the piece of roof was perfectly still. Little White Fox
looked up, and right by the piece of roof was the finest sandy beach
you ever saw. He gave one big run and jumped on the beach, and scampered
away, as fast as ever he could, just before a big wave came and carried
the piece of roof back to sea.

It wasn't any time at all until he was up on the edge of the finest
hill, eating the richest, juiciest blueberries that had ever been kept
under a snow bank all the long winter through. And pretty soon he was
all dry, and feeling fine and not hungry at all.

"But where in the world am I?" thought Little White Fox, scratching his
head. "I'll have to see if I can find some of my friends who can tell me
how to go home. It must be a long, long way."

CHAPTER XVIII

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 wi