LIGHTFOOT'S LONG SWIM
The Big River was very wide. It would have been a long swim for
Lightfoot had he been fresh and at his best. Strange as it may seem,
Lightfoot is a splendid swimmer, despite his small, delicate feet. He
enjoys swimming.
But now Lightfoot was terribly tired from his long run ahead of the
hounds. For a time he swam rapidly, but those weary muscles grew still
more weary, and by the time he reached the middle of the Big River it
seemed to him that he was not getting ahead at all. At first he had
tried to swim towards a clump of trees he could see on the opposite bank
above the point where he had entered the water, but to do this he had to
swim against the current and he soon found that he hadn't the strength
to do this. Then he turned and headed for a point down the Big River.
This made the swimming easier, for the current helped him instead of
hindering him.
Even then he could feel his strength leaving him. Had he escaped those
hounds and the terrible hunters only to be drowned in the Big River?
This new fear gave him more strength for a little while. But it did not
last long. He was three fourths of the way across the Big River but
still that other shore seemed a long distance away. Little by little
hope died in the heart of Lightfoot the Deer. He would keep on just as
long as he could and then,--well, it was better to drown than to be torn
to pieces by dogs.
Just as Lightfoot felt that he could not take another stroke and that
the end was at hand, one foot touched something. Then, all four feet
touched. A second later he had found solid footing and was standing with
the water only up to his knees. He had found a little sand bar out in
the Big River. With a little gasp of returning hope, Lightfoot waded
along until the water began to grow deeper again. He had hoped that he
would be able to wade ashore, but he saw now that he would have to swim
again.
So for a long time he remained right where he was. He was so tired that
he trembled all over, and he was as frightened as he was tired. He knew
that standing out there in the water he could be seen for a long
distance, and that made him nervous and fearful. Supposing a hunter on
the shore he was trying to reach should see him. Then he would have no
chance at all, for the hunter would simply wait for him and shoot him as
he came out of the water.
But rest he must, and so he stood for a long time on the little sand bar
in the Big River. And little by little he felt his strength returning.