DAPPLE’S SECRET
AS winter approached, and Fuzzy wandered farther and farther afield,
the bullfrogs wriggled deep into the mud to sleep the white months
away, the trout he had so often caught sought the deepest water they
could find, in the very bottom of the ice-covered lake, the birds
flew further south, the chipmunks retired to the depths of their
well-stocked burrows, the pine squirrels took to their hollow trees
except when the sun shone warmest, and the mice crept so deep into the
frozen ground that Fuzzy could not dig them out.
The children still had the owl and the canary, and one day they
discovered Ring-tail in the haymow with three kittens, but Wiggledy,
now a well-grown pup, was their chief comrade, for Fuzzy-Wuzz had also
disappeared.
He had not chosen the haymow this time in which to sleep the winter
away, for he had found the most delightful den in the rocks,--a regular
cave, which he had lined with armfuls of dry pine needles, till it was
as snug and warm as anything he could desire. Moreover, he could hide
away in it and no one could disturb him.
Spring came, setting the streams to frothing over their bowlder-strewn
beds. The banks of the quieter pools echoed to the song of the
re-awakened bullfrogs. Chipmunks chattered through the tree tops, birds
returned, filling the air with their love songs, and mice scuttled
through the new green grass. But no Fuzzy came scratching at the cabin
door, and no Dapple came to the children’s call.
Then one early morning the boy, now a well-grown lad of twelve, was out
milking the cows when a pale, tawny form in the edge of the woodland
attracted his eye. It was a doe, and he held his breath for a good look
at her. She did not move. For long minutes he stared at the mild-eyed
creature, fearing if he moved, she would go bounding away. Then--could
his eyes deceive him?--she came prancing straight toward him.
“Dapple!” he called joyously. “Dapple! Can it really be you?” And at
the sound of his voice, she came to his outstretched hand and licked it.
Then a sharp sound of snapping twigs in the underbrush behind her sent
her bounding back. The boy stared after her. There, frightened to death
at their close approach to human kind, and ready to leap away at the
slightest danger, stood two tiny spotted fawns, as like what Dapple
herself had been as anything that could be imagined.
A moment more they stood hesitant, then as the boy took one step
nearer, Dapple went bouncing back into the thick woods, the fawns
following.