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[Illustration: WITH ALL THE SPEED AND POWER HE COULD SUMMON, HE
DELIVERED A CRUSHING BLOW]
_Twilight Animal Series_
WHITE TAIL
THE DEER’S ADVENTURES
By
GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH
_Author of “Bumper the White Rabbit,” “Bumper the White Rabbit in the
Woods,” “Bumper the White Rabbit and His Foes,” “Bumper the White Rabbit
and His Friends,” “Bobby Gray Squirrel” “Bobby Gray Squirrel’s
Adventures,” Etc._
_Colored Illustrations by
EDWIN J. PRETTIE_
[Illustration]
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
CHICAGO PHILADELPHIA TORONTO
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TWILIGHT ANIMAL SERIES
FOR BOYS AND GIRLS
FROM 4 TO 10 YEARS OF AGE
By
GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH
LIST OF TITLES
1 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT
2 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT IN THE WOODS
3 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FOES
4 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FRIENDS
5 BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL
6 BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL’S ADVENTURES
7 BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR
8 BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR’S ADVENTURES
9 WHITE TAIL THE DEER
10 WHITE TAIL THE DEER’S ADVENTURES
11 WASHER, THE RACCOON
(Other titles in preparation)
Issued in uniform style with this volume
PRICE 65 CENTS EACH, Postpaid
EACH VOLUME CONTAINS COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS
Copyright 1922 by
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
Copyright MCMXVII by George E. Walsh
------------------------------------------------------------------------
INTRODUCTION TO THE TWILIGHT ANIMAL STORIES
BY THE AUTHOR
All little boys and girls who love animals should become acquainted with
Bumper the white rabbit, with Bobby Gray Squirrel, with Buster the bear,
and with White Tail the deer, for they are all a jolly lot, brave and
fearless in danger, and so lovable that you won’t lay down any one of
the books without saying wistfully, “I almost wish I had them really and
truly as friends and not just storybook acquaintances.” That, of course,
is a splendid wish; but none of us could afford to have a big menagerie
of wild animals, and that’s just what you would have to do if you went
outside of the books. Bumper had many friends, such as Mr. Blind Rabbit,
Fuzzy Wuzz and Goggle Eyes, his country cousins; and Bobby Gray Squirrel
had his near cousins, Stripe the chipmunk and Webb the flying squirrel;
while Buster and White Tail were favored with an endless number of
friends and relatives. If we turned them all loose from the books, and
put them in a ten-acre lot—but no, ten acres wouldn’t be big enough to
accommodate them, perhaps not a hundred acres.
So we will leave them just where they are—in the books—and read about
them, and let our imaginations take us to them where we can see them
playing, skipping, singing, and sometimes fighting, and if we read very
carefully, and _think_ as we go along, we may come to know them even
better than if we went out hunting for them.
Another thing we should remember. By leaving them in the books, hundreds
and thousands of other boys and girls can enjoy them, too, sharing with
us the pleasures of the imagination, which after all is one of the
greatest things in the world. In gathering them together in a real
menagerie, we would be selfish both to Bumper, Bobby, Buster, White Tail
and their friends as well as to thousands of other little readers who
could not share them with us. So these books of Twilight Animal Stories
are dedicated to all little boys and girls who love wild animals. All
others are forbidden to read them! They wouldn’t understand them if they
did.
So come out into the woods with me, and let us listen and watch, and I
promise you it will be worth while.
CONTENTS
STORY PAGE
I White Tail Jumps Stepping Stone Brook 9
II Father Buck’s Failure 17
III Young Black Buck’s Challenge 25
IV Father Buck’s Decision 33
V Young Black Buck’s Challenge to a Race 41
VI Downy the Woodpecker Brings Startling News 49
VII A Race With Puma and Timber 57
VIII Mrs. Puma and Timber Fight 65
IX Young Black Buck Has An Accident 73
X White Tail’s Magnanimous Act 81
XI White Tail’s Adventure in the Camp 89
XII White Tail Escapes 97
XIII White Tail Hears Unpleasant News 105
XIV Choosing a New Leader 113
XV The Great Combat 121
XVI White Tail Made Leader of the Herd 129
WHITE TAIL’S ADVENTURES
STORY I
WHITE TAIL JUMPS STEPPING STONE BROOK
White Tail grew rapidly in size and strength, his long, clean limbs
showing taut muscles and great springing power; and his neck grew thick
and short, which is well for a buck, who must use it in savage thrusts
when the head is a battering ram. His horns were short and bony, but
they protruded in front like knobs against which it would be unpleasant
to fall.
But his antlers were his pride. They spread out fan-shape on his head,
crowning it with a glory that made Mother Deer supremely happy. At times
it seemed as if the antlers were too heavy for the head and neck, but
White Tail carried them easily, and when he shook them in sport or anger
any one could see they were just fitted to him.
In time he stood as high as Father Buck, and a head taller than Mother
Deer. The day the tip of his antlers reached an inch above Father
Buck’s, he felt a little thrill of pride. To be as big and tall as his
father had always been his ambition. But while it pleased Father Buck
that his son was growing so big, it made him a little sad.
“You will soon be ready to take my place, White Tail,” he said. “You’re
growing taller and stronger every day.”
“That may be, Father Buck,” he replied, “but it will be many a season
before I can run as fast and far as you, or show the same strength in a
fight. Oh, no, there’s little chance of my equaling you for many, many
seasons.”
Father Buck merely smiled and nodded his head. “I want you to run out
with me to Stepping Stone brook,” he said simply. “There is something I
want to show you.”
White Tail was always eager for a run with Father Buck. Nearly every day
they went off together to hunt and explore. Father Buck had been
teaching him all the ways and tricks of the woods so that his education
would be complete.
It was a cool, crisp day, and they ran through the woods, side by side,
in long, gentle lopes until they came to Stepping Stone brook. This was
a small stream confined between two ledges of rocks, with stones placed
in it for stepping across when one didn’t want to wet the feet.
Frequently the whole herd crossed it, using the stones so that not a
foot touched the water.
When they reached the brook, White Tail immediately took a long drink of
the cooling water, for their run had made him hot and thirsty. Father
Buck watched him in silence, a very sad expression in his beautiful
eyes. There was admiration also, but a little sadness.
“White Tail,” he said suddenly, “I have brought you here to tell you
something. Stepping Stone brook has always been the test for our
leaders. Here it is that many a youngster has first earned his right to
lead the herd, and, alas! many an older leader has broken his heart
here.”
White Tail looked up in surprise, and glanced from the speaker to the
trickling waters. He was clearly puzzled by the words he had heard.
“No buck can be leader of the herd unless he can jump across Stepping
Stone brook, clearing it from bank to bank without faltering or
stumbling. If he fails he must wait until he can make the leap. Many,
many have tried and failed, and others—”
White Tail’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. He liked to take risks and
attempt difficult tasks.
“I see,” he said, laughing joyfully, “you brought me here to see if I
could make the leap. Well, I can do it! I’ll show you. I won’t
disappoint you, Father Buck.”
“I know you won’t, White Tail,” was the reply. “I shouldn’t have brought
you here so soon if I thought you would fail. But I had another purpose,
too.”
“What is it?” asked White Tail.
“I will tell you later. Now I want to see you take the leap. Years ago,
many, many seasons ago, I came here, and took it. There on the rocks you
can see the marks of my leap. It was one of the longest ever made by any
of our people. I was naturally proud of it. I shall never forget that
day. I think it was the happiest of my life—except one.”
“Which other one?” asked White Tail.
“The day I defeated Black Buck in the final struggle for leadership,”
was the reply. “It was a battle that lasted for hours, and all the herd
watched us. We were down, and up again and again, struggling, fighting
and bucking until it seemed as if both of us would die from exhaustion.
But I finally won. I got him down on his knees, and then rolled him
over, and stood there until he acknowledged my leadership. That of
course was the happiest day of my life.”
White Tail thrilled at this story, and for a moment forgot the thing he
was going to do until his father spoke again.
“Now let me see you take the brook in a jump.”
White Tail trotted back on the embankment, but he discovered there was
little room for a start. It was almost a standing leap. That was why it
was so hard. Across on the other side the embankment shelved down
gradually to the shore, with grass and moss covering the bold face of
the rock.
“Take your time,” Father Buck cautioned. “Measure the distance well, and
do not spring unless you’re sure of yourself. Many a buck that failed
the first time never got his courage up to repeat it. It is the first
leap that counts.”
Reflecting long and earnestly on his father’s words, White Tail measured
the distance with his eyes, and then drew back as far as he could. He
gathered his powerful hind legs together, squatted down on them, pawed
the rock with his front ones, and stood a moment in trembling
anticipation. His nostrils dilated, his eyes flashed. Then with a sudden
forward spring he darted toward the edge of the rock, and when he
reached it his hind hoofs dug on the rock for a secure purchase. There
was a momentary hesitation, as if he had decided not to make the
attempt. Then his body shot upward and outward across the brook in the
prettiest jump that any deer had ever taken.
He cleared the brook, with its stepping stones, passed the opposite
edge, and landed all four hoofs firmly planted on the upper part of the
slope. He had made the jump successfully.
Father Buck crossed the stream on the stones, and glanced down at his
old mark. A spirit of exultation seized him.
“You have passed my old mark, White Tail, beaten it by a foot,” he said.
“You will some day be leader, I know.”
White Tail was as much interested as his father in his triumph. He
examined the marks, and then wanted to repeat the jump to see if he
could better it.
“No,” cautioned Father Buck, “once is sufficient. The second time may
not be so good. You have established your mark. We will scratch it here
with our hoofs as a challenge to all others. Let Young Black Buck beat
it if he can. Until he does that is your mark.”
White Tail accepted this order, and made no further attempt to jump the
brook. If Young Black Buck beats it some day then he would have a chance
to try it again, and, if possible, score a longer jump.
“What was your other purpose in bringing me here today?” he asked
remembering his father’s words.
“Ah! That is the sad part of it,” sighed Father Buck. “But you must
know. I will show you.”
Just what he meant will appear in the next story.
STORY II
FATHER BUCK’S FAILURE
Father Buck walked across the brook again, and took his place on the
rock from which the jump was made. White Tail immediately concluded he
was going to show him how much farther he could jump when he was a young
buck.
“I know you will beat me,” White Tail said. “But if you do, won’t you
give me another chance?”
“Yes, if such a miracle should happen,” was the reply.
White Tail stood eagerly watching, while his father crouched as he had
for the spring. How noble he looked with his big antlered head, with
streaks of gray and white hair curling around the roots! White Tail was
proud of him.
Suddenly Father Buck rushed forward, hesitated at the brink to get a
good purchase with his hoofs, and then up in the air and straight across
his body shot. White Tail watched him with gleaming eyes.
Then something happened which startled him. The spring had not been as
powerful as he thought, for instead of beating White Tail’s mark, or
reaching his own, Father Buck missed the shore by a foot. His hind legs
actually splashed in the water.
“What happened?” exclaimed White Tail in amazement. “Did you slip,
or—or—”
“No,” replied Father Buck sadly, “it was as I expected. I am getting
old, White Tail, and have lost my spring. I have reached the age where I
am no longer qualified to lead the herd. If any of the other bucks knew
this they would instantly demand a new leader. It’s the law of the
herd.”
“But—but—” stammered White Tail. “You could do it again. You didn’t get
a good start.”
“No, it wasn’t that, White Tail. It was my age. I can no longer spring
across Stepping Stone brook. I am not fit to be leader of the herd.”
Father Buck’s proud head drooped, and something like a tear gleamed in
his eyes. It was hard to acknowledge that he was failing, and that in a
few seasons he would be looked upon as a useless old buck who would have
to take orders from another much younger than he. But it was the law of
the herd—and the law of life.
“I can’t believe it!” exclaimed White Tail. “I won’t believe it! I know
you can leap across the brook. You must try it again. What I can do you
can do!”
Father Buck raised his head and smiled. All the sadness left his eyes,
and pride and gratefulness took its place.
“No, White Tail,” he replied. “I cannot do it. I put in that jump all
the strength I had—and I failed. But don’t think I’m sad. I’m not. I
knew it had to come some day. But I’m glad that my son can take my
place. I can be happy yet—and Mother Deer will share it with me—because
you have qualified so well to be our leader. I am thankful for that.”
But White Tail was not convinced. It was hard for him to accept the
truth. Father Buck was still to him the finest, proudest, wisest and
strongest leader he knew, and he wanted him to continue so.
“Some other day when you feel better you will come out here and try the
jump again,” he said. “I know you don’t feel well today. Tomorrow you
will feel better.”
Father Buck shook his head slowly. “I see you are hard to convince,
White Tail. But I will show you in another way. How far is it from here
to Puma’s hunting ground?”
“Ten miles or more.”
“Then we will go to it. We will race to it at a good speed. I want you
to set the pace—the swiftest you can. You must run as if Puma or Timber
Wolf was on your trail. I will follow. You must neither look to the
right or to the left, or back of you. Run with all your might.”
“You will follow close behind me?”
“I will follow you.”
Now White Tail looked with glee upon this run, for he was in fine
condition. His limbs seemed aching for a long, hard run, and his father
wanted to see how quickly he could make the race. He would show him. He
wouldn’t disappoint him.
Shortly afterward he started off, taking a broad trail through the
woods. He trotted along merrily, and soon began running in long leaps
and bounds that carried him far and fast. When he came to obstructions
in his path he leaped over them as easily as a boy or girl would jump
over a log.
Faster and faster he flew through the woods, his fine head set well
back, and his antlers almost resting on his neck. His eyes were kept
glued to the trail ahead. He ran so easily and smoothly that it seemed
as if he was making no effort. For the first five miles he showed hardly
any results of his wild run, but in the last half of the distance he
began to perspire a little, and the white foam settled on his flanks.
But he never stopped or turned until he reached the boundary line of
Puma’s hunting ground. Then he halted and whirled around.
“How was that?” he asked.
But Father Buck was not there. He was alone. His father was nowhere in
sight. Startled and surprised by this he trotted back a few paces and
called to him. Then, not finding him, he became frightened. Had
something happened to his father?
Perhaps Puma had sprung out of the bushes and killed him, or Timber Wolf
had driven him off the trail, and was even now chasing him. White Tail
was so alarmed that he retraced his footsteps, calling every little
while for Father Buck. It was a dangerous thing to do, for in calling he
might attract Puma or Timber Wolf. But his anxiety for his father made
him forget all caution.
He found him a long way back on the trail, lying in the bushes, panting
with exhaustion. As soon as he discovered him, White Tail ran up to him
with a little bleat of joy.
“Oh, I thought something terrible had happened to you!” he exclaimed.
“What is it? Did you stumble? You haven’t broken a leg, have you?”
“No, White Tail,” was the panting reply. “Nothing has happened to me. I
couldn’t keep up with you. I tried my best. I hung on until I fell down
with exhaustion. I have run my last race. I did it to show you that I am
growing older and that my powers are weakening. You would not be
convinced when I failed to leap the brook. Now you will have to
believe.”
Then it dawned upon White Tail that the race to Puma’s hunting ground
was simply to show him that his father could no longer keep up with the
young bucks of the herd. It was hard for Father Buck thus to show his
failing powers, but it was better to do it with his son as the only
witness than to fail before all the herd.
“It is my downfall, White Tail,” he added. “But I wanted only you as
witness. Now you know. My leadership will soon end, but when the day
comes you must be able to take my place. That will be my satisfaction,
and your mother’s. She knew that the time was approaching, and she will
not be heavy-hearted.”
White Tail was terribly distressed by this news, but after a while a
fierce joy came to him. “I shall prove myself worthy of you, Father
Buck,” he said. “Yes, I will take your place. I will fight for it now
that you and Mother Deer want it. Yes, I will fight for the leadership
until the last breath.”
“Those are the words I’ve longed to hear, White Tail. Now I am
contented. We will return to the herd. My day’s work is done.”
As they trotted slowly back to the herd, they planned for the future.
Both knew that the future race would be between White Tail and Young
Black Buck. But of this you will read in the next story.
STORY III
YOUNG BLACK BUCK’S CHALLENGE
Young Black Buck had, of course, been in training all this time, for it
is the law of the deer that none shall aspire for the leadership of a
herd until he has learned all the ways of the woods, and can out-pace
and out-jump his father and mother. All the laws of the deer are very
strict, for the safety of all depends upon the leader.
Black Buck had taken his son through the woods, as Father Buck had taken
White Tail, showing him the dangers and pitfalls, and instructing him
how to avoid them and what to do when danger threatened. He had taken
him secretly to Stepping Stone brook, and made him jump it; and he had
tested his speed and endurance in a race with himself.
Father Buck had no illusions about what Black Buck was doing, and he
tried to prepare White Tail to meet Young Black Buck on equal terms. It
was like bringing up two boys for a contest in speed, strength,
endurance, wisdom and courage. It was a Spartan education, but it was
necessary for the good of the herd.
Then one day the clash came for a preliminary trial of skill. The herd
had wandered down from the timberland to the open woods below where the
new buds of the birches offered succulent food. There was no sign of
danger in the air, and the herd grazed peacefully on soft young twigs
and opening buds.
When they had wandered to the brink of the canyon that cut through the
North Woods below Stepping Stone brook, the leaders paused and started
to turn the young does and fawns back. It was dangerous to permit them
to eat too close to the edge of the precipice. If one should fall over,
the rocks below would crack every bone in its body.
Black Buck suddenly raised his head, and then whispered to his son:
“Think you can jump the canyon safely? If so it is a good time to
challenge White Tail. We may find out then what he can do. If he balks
at it, we will know he is timid or under-trained.”
Young Black Buck walked to the edge, and gazed down it and then across
it. It was a dangerous leap, for if he missed by an inch he would fall
to the bottom thirty feet below where the hard rocks would crush him. He
sniffed the air, and then returned to his father’s side.
“I can do it,” he replied. “I’ve made longer jumps.”
“Yes, but if you should fail you would be killed. Make sure of yourself
before you sound the challenge. Go below, where the canyon is not so
steep, but just as wide. Practice there alone until you have confidence.
If you fail no harm will be done. You can wait another day.”
Young Black Buck separated himself from the herd and made his way to a
point half a mile down the canyon. On either side here the rocks were
covered with moss and turf, and the edges dropped only a few feet. If he
failed the fall would not hurt him.
Unseen by the others, he made the attempt, and cleared the space
successfully in the first leap. Then to make sure he tried it again and
again, lighting easily on the opposite embankment each time.
Gloating with pride and triumph, he trotted back to Black Buck, and
reported. “I never failed once. If the distance here is no greater
across I can do it easily.”
“It is no greater, but if anything a few inches less,” replied Black
Buck. “If you can do it below, you will do it here. Issue the
challenge.”
Young Black Buck trotted away, and, raising his head in the air, a
peculiar bellowing noise issued from his throat. It was the buck’s
challenge to a contest. Every deer knew its meaning, and raised a head
to see who was calling. White Tail, feeding some distance off with
Mother Deer and Father Buck, heard it, and instantly turned his head in
Young Black Buck’s direction.
“It’s Young Black Buck’s challenge,” whispered Father Buck. “You must
accept it. It may be a challenge to a race or fight. Whatever it is you
must accept it.”
“I’m ready,” replied White Tail, starting off.
“Who will leap the canyon with me!” bellowed Young Black Buck. “I shall
lead where none dare follow! None shall then dispute my claim to
leadership. Come those who dare!”
Before White Tail reached the spot, the whole herd was crowding around
the challenger. They saw a prospect of a free entertainment, and they
bucked and butted each other to get in front. None of the other young
bucks had accepted the challenge. One glance at the yawning depth of the
canyon had made them withdraw with sickening fear. It looked much deeper
than it was, and twice as wide.
White Tail pushed his way through the crowds until he stood before Young
Black Buck. The sight of him brought a quick remark from the
challenger’s mouth.
“You, White Tail!” he exclaimed. “You wish to accept the challenge?
Beware how you speak without thinking. Go and look down the chasm! It
means death if you fail! Think twice before you speak!”
Now when Father Buck heard the nature of the challenge he felt a great
fear. He had never shown the canyon to White Tail, and he didn’t know
whether he could leap across it or not. He reproached himself for
omitting this part of his training.
Mother Deer’s heart gave a great throb. If White Tail failed she knew he
would be crushed to death on the rocks below. She could not endure such
a sight. Better that her son should lose the leadership than be killed.
“No, no, White Tail,” she cried, “you must not accept the challenge. You
must not! I can’t lose you!”
Black Buck, who had been standing back of the crowd, heard, and was
greatly pleased, for he knew now that Father Buck hadn’t taught White
Tail to jump the canyon. Few had ever taken the leap without practicing
first at the place below where there was no danger. It was the fear of
not being able to clear the distance that caused the real danger.
“You must not say that,” interrupted Father Buck, frowning at Mother
Deer. “The honor of our family is at stake. White Tail must accept the
challenge.”
Before Mother Deer could answer this, White Tail had settled the
dispute. “Whatever you can do, Young Black Buck,” he said, “I will do.
More than that, I will lead.”
“You will take the leap first?” queried Young Black Buck. “Then, as the
challenger, I have the right of choice. You can go first, White Tail.”
“But where I go you must follow,” retorted White Tail. “If not, you
shall be forever disgraced.”
“If you are afraid I’ll lead,” sneered Young Black Buck.
“No, I’ll go first!”
White Tail didn’t even go to the edge of the precipice to look down or
to measure the distance across. What was the use? He would make the
greatest jump of his life. If he failed he would die knowing he had done
his best. What more could he do?
[Illustration: IT WAS A SPLENDID JUMP]
He ran back a short distance, and then facing the canyon he made a swift
dash for it. At the brink he threw all his strength in a mighty leap,
and his body shot upward and outward, forming a beautiful curve. He kept
his eyes ahead, and never once looked down.
It was a splendid jump. It carried him clear across the canyon, and
landed him safely a yard beyond the opposite edge. He knew by the shouts
that he had succeeded even before his feet touched ground. Then with a
proud toss of his head he turned and looked at Young Black Buck. It was
his turn now. Could he do it?
STORY IV
FATHER BUCK’S DECISION
Young Black Buck was greatly chagrined at White Tail’s great jump, for
he knew that he had crossed the canyon without any previous training. It
showed that White Tail had courage as well as strength and skill. It was
a triumph for him that none appreciated more than Young Black Buck and
his father.
“Now, Young Black Buck,” White Tail called from the opposite side,
“follow me, or forever cease challenging.”
There was nothing for Young Black Buck to do but take the jump. All eyes
were turned on him. For the first time a feeling of fear possessed him.
He had looked down the chasm, and knew what waited him if he fell short.
Suppose he should make a false step or stumble at the last moment. The
fall would be terrible. If not actually killed, he would break his legs
at the very least.
Black Buck saw the expression of fear in his son’s eyes, and whispered
to him: “Don’t look below! Keep your eyes up and ahead!”
Young Black Buck gathered himself for the short run, and long jump. He
knew that he had to take it, and that he had to succeed. He ran with all
his might, and then sprang forward in a quick spring.
If it hadn’t been for his nervousness, he certainly would have cleared
the chasm without accident, but chagrin, anger and fear had possession
of him, and they were responsible for a misstep at the last moment. When
his body was launched through the air, he knew that he hadn’t put in the
jump all the power he had.
Then too the fear of a failure alarmed him. He glanced down, and saw the
terrible chasm yawning below to receive him. This gave his body a side
lurch, and instead of clearing the chasm in a beautiful jump his
forefeet touched the opposite side only a foot from the edge, and his
hind hoofs missed it by an inch.
No one could see the accident so quickly or plainly as White Tail, who
stood within a few feet of him. He saw that Young Black Buck was going
to miss before his front hoofs touched the embankment.
Now the thought of his missing the rock, and falling to the bottom of
the chasm in a broken heap, horrified White Tail so that he forgot all
his triumph and desire to win. His greatest desire was to save Young
Black Buck from an awful death.
Before he reached the embankment, White Tail jumped to the edge, and
quick as a wink stretched forth his head, caught Young Black Buck by a
prong of his antlers. He got a good hold with his teeth, and then as the
leaping buck’s hind feet slipped down and his body began to sway
backward, White Tail braced his feet, and jerked backward with all his
strength.
It was enough to overcome the balance of the frightened jumper. Instead
of falling backward into the chasm, he stumbled forward, and then
catching his hind hoofs on the edge he managed to climb up the
embankment.
It was all done so quickly and skilfully that the watchers on the
opposite bank hardly knew what had happened. They knew in some way that
Young Black Buck had stumbled and nearly fallen in the chasm. They had
also seen White Tail reach forward and grab or push him. They couldn’t
very well say just what he did.
But Black Buck, seeing that his son had failed, and angry at the thought
of White Tail’s triumph, was quick to see a way to change defeat into
triumph. Before his son could recover his breath and stop his trembling,
Black Buck roared out with all his might:
“Foul! That was a foul! White Tail got in the way, and tried to throw my
son off the precipice!”
“No, No!” several shouted. “Not that! White Tail wouldn’t do that!”
“Ask my son if what I say isn’t true? He should know!” rumbled Black
Buck.
Young Black Buck was almost as quick as his father to see the chance of
redeeming himself in the eyes of the whole herd, and he shook his head
with delight. His fear and trembling all left him.
“Speak, Young Black Buck!” shouted his father. “Did White Tail interfere
with you? Speak before it is too late!”
Young Black Buck was ready with his answer. “Yes, he stood in my way,”
he replied, “and when I reached the edge he bit at me, and tried to push
me off the edge.”
White Tail started in surprise and horror at this accusation, for he was
too stunned to speak. Then, when he realized what the charge meant, he
said:
“You know I didn’t do that, Young Black Buck! If I hadn’t grabbed your
antlers you would have fallen over and been crushed to death. Oh, how
could you say such a thing!”
“That’s a fine story to tell!” jeered Young Black Buck. “Who do you
think will believe it! You wanted to kill me so you could have no
challenger for the leadership. Well, I’m alive, and I’ll beat you to it
yet.”
Now the uproar on the other side was intense. Some believed that White
Tail had actually tried to push his rival down the chasm, and others
were equally certain that the son of Father Buck could never be guilty
of such a crime. The commotion was approaching the proportions of a riot
when Father Buck brought silence with a roar of authority.
“Be quiet!” he bellowed. “We must settle this dispute right. If my son
was guilty of such a crime, I would be the first to disown him and drive
him from the herd in disgrace. But if he is innocent, I will back him up
with all my might.”
He turned fiercely on Black Buck, as he said this, his eyes flashing and
his antlers bobbing threateningly. Black Buck was not anxious to get in
a fight with the leader, and he backed away grumbling.
“I will protect my son, too,” he breathed angrily, “if he is right.”
“That is your duty,” roared Father Buck, “and it is your duty to
denounce him if he’s in the wrong. Will you do that also?”
Black Buck made some inaudible reply, and backed still further away from
the flashing eyes.
“Who saw White Tail push Young Black Buck off the edge?” asked Father
Buck, addressing the crowd.
A dozen or more voices answered in the affirmative. Without changing the
expression of his face, Father Buck then added: “Who saw White Tail grab
Young Black Buck, and try to save him from a fall?”
An equal number of voices responded promptly. To make sure Father Buck
counted them, and then counted those who had answered in favor of Young
Black Buck. They were the same! Twenty yeas and twenty noes!
“That makes it hard for me to decide,” murmured Father Buck. “A tie is
never a pleasant vote for a leader, for he must decide then one way or
the other himself. In this case it’s doubly hard for me.”
He stopped and looked at the herd, and then added: “You know me, and you
know I would be the last to decide in favor of my son if I thought he
was wrong. Therefore, in giving my decision, I know you will think I’m
doing justice. Then I say to you that I saw White Tail help Young Black
Buck up the slope. Had it not been for his help one of our number would
be down below there dead.”
There was a silence, and a shudder passed through the whole herd. Father
Buck’s decision did not affect them so much as the thought of what might
have happened. They were glad that it had ended this way, with no bones
broken. White Tail was exonerated in their eyes.
STORY V
YOUNG BLACK BUCK’S CHALLENGE TO A RACE
White Tail was so angry at Young Black Buck for accusing him falsely
that for a moment after Father Buck’s decision, he couldn’t find his
tongue to speak. He simply glared at Young Black Buck, and for the first
time there came into his mind a desire to punish his accuser. He knew
then that he would have to fight his antagonist some day, and the battle
would be a long and hard one, with neither side giving any terms.
When the excitement had quieted a little, he turned to Young Black Buck,
and said: “You know that you spoke falsely, and knowing it your
conscience should trouble you.”
Young Black Buck grinned. “But nobody else knows it,” he replied.
“Therefore my conscience don’t trouble me much.”
“Some day,” added White Tail, “you will pay for this. We want no
deceiver as the leader of the herd. I’ll battle you for the position.”
“Oh!” sneered the other. “That’s a pretty speech, White Tail. But we
can’t battle for the leadership until Father Buck has failed in the
chase or hunt. He’s leader until then.”
“But the day will come when it will be between you and me.”
“And then,” replied Young Black Buck, airily, “I’ll see that you get the
worst licking you ever had.”
“No, I think it will be the other way.”
White Tail crossed the chasm again and joined the herd. There were
plenty to sympathize with him, and they expressed themselves frankly.
But there were not lacking others who admired Young Black Buck, and felt
that he had been unjustly accused.
Mother Deer whispered in her son’s ears: “Never mind, White Tail. We
have to learn to take such things in life unselfishly. Right always
triumphs in the end. Don’t let it worry you.”
“It doesn’t worry me, Mother Deer. But it makes me feel angry.”
Further conversation was stopped by Father Buck announcing that the herd
would go to the lower timberland to graze on the succulent grass that
bordered Puma’s hunting ground. The grass was in the rich, tender stage,
and the deer enjoyed it as a sort of luxury. The fact that Puma had
selected this spot as his special hunting ground could not keep the deer
away, and Father Buck’s announcement was hailed with delight.
“We must keep together,” he cautioned, “with the does and fawns inside,
and the bucks outside, for Puma may be abroad, although he’s not to be
feared so much in the day time. If he’s asleep in his lair we won’t
disturb him.”
The spice of danger added to the zest of the adventure. The grass always
had a much sweeter taste and a richer flavor when it was gathered right
under the nose of Puma. The young bucks kicked up their heels and ran
ahead. While they were not anxious to draw Puma from his lair, they
wanted to show to the fawns and does they were unafraid.
“If Puma comes for me I’ll show him a clean pair of heels!” boasted one.
“And I,” said another, “will give him a race that he’ll never forget.”
Little did they know of what they were boasting. Puma the Mountain Lion
never laid any great claim to swift, long distance running. He knew he
was no match for the fleet deer in this respect.
But he had ways and tricks of his own. His favorite method was to hide
among the thick foliage of the trees, and when a buck or doe passed
underneath to spring upon its back. Once caught in this way no deer had
a chance to escape. All the speed in the world would not avail the poor
creature then.
Puma was a terrible hunter. At night time he roamed about the dark woods
and scented out his sleeping prey, and with one blow from his great paw
he could break the back of a buck or crush the skull of a smaller
animal. He could climb a tree like a cat, and crouch flat in the bushes
out of sight to spring up as swiftly as a deer leaping a chasm.
All the older deer knew the ways of Puma, some from terrifying
experiences, and others only from hearsay. Ever since Father Buck had
been leader of the herd, they had avoided Puma, and not one had fallen a
prey to his voracious appetite. Perhaps they didn’t fully appreciate
this, for continued safety from danger often makes us think there is no
real danger after all.
So when he proposed leading the herd down to the succulent grass,
bordering the woods where Puma hunted, he took great precaution to avoid
any risk. Several of the older bucks were sent ahead scouting, and they
returned at intervals to report.
Father Buck led them down to the broad, shallow stream that he and White
Tail had crossed that day on their return from Puma’s hunting ground.
But instead of wading down the river a short distance, the leader kept
them wading until they had skirted the hunting ground of Timber Wolf. He
had almost as much fear of Timber as of Puma.
They kept to the left bank of the stream, and then crossed a shallow
ford where the grass and reeds grew in such dense masses. They began
feeding at once, but not until bucks had been sent inland to scout for
Puma. They returned to report that Puma was not abroad. They had crossed
and re-crossed his old trails, but there was no fresh scent in the air.
“He’s probably sleeping after a good night of hunting,” Black Buck
remarked. “I don’t think there’s any danger.”
But the leader was taking no chances. He posted scouts in the woods and
on high rocks where they could watch, listen and smell. Then the rest of
the herd enjoyed their feast of rich grass and reeds. They munched
greedily at them, their eyes filled with happiness, and making as little
noise as possible.
Now Young Black Buck should have been satisfied to eat and enjoy himself
with the rest but after he had filled his stomach he began to feel so
much better that he trotted around from one group to another in the most
restless manner. Seeing White Tail feeding alone, a sudden desire to get
even with him for the morning’s work seized him.
“Ho, White Tail!” he called. “I challenge you to a race. We’ll scare up
Puma maybe, but that will give us a good chance to show him how little
we are afraid of him.”
“Is it wise to arouse him?” asked White Tail.
“Wise!” sniffed Young Black Buck. “Must you ask that question whenever
you want to do something? But if you’re afraid to race me through his
hunting ground well and good. I’ll go alone.”
“I’m not afraid,” replied White Tail, “and I will accept your challenge
if the older ones say it is all right.”
Young Black Buck reported the matter to the leaders, and after a
consultation Father Buck announced: “We’re ready to go home, and if Puma
is aroused we’ll flee. Perhaps it’s a good plan to give Young Black Buck
and White Tail a chance to see Puma. They will be on the lookout for
him, and when he appears they can run home. Yes, they must learn some
day to meet him, and it is well that it should be today.”
With the consent of the leader of the herd the two young bucks started
off into the lower woods to make a complete circuit of Puma’s hunting
ground. It was a long, wild run, and they would need all their strength
and powers. Father Buck started them off, and they disappeared in the
woods like two arrows shot from a bow. What happened to them in the race
will be told in the next story.
STORY VI
DOWNY THE WOODPECKER BRINGS STARTLING NEWS
Swift as the wind, and almost as silently, White Tail and Young Black
Buck swept through the low timberland, skirting the edge of Puma’s
hunting ground so they could circuit it and return to the starting
point. Like two good long-distance runners, neither made an effort to
take the lead at first.
It was to be a test of endurance rather than of short sprinting.
Silently, side by side, they ran at first, leaping over fallen logs and
trees in long graceful jumps, and spurting in sharp bursts of speed
where the trail was broad and open.
It was not until they had covered the first mile, that first one and
then the other attempted to take the lead. Young Black Buck shot ahead
first, taking advantage of an open trail, but a moment later White Tail
leaped over a clump of bushes and rushed ahead. Young Black Buck pushed
in the lead again at the first opportunity.
Neither took these short spurts seriously, for they indicated nothing.
Not until they had covered the second mile did they begin to let out in
real earnestness. Black Buck then, to see whether White Tail was
beginning to show any strain, rushed ahead, and spread himself out in a
long, steady lope.
White Tail kept close behind him until his speed began to slacken, and
then to show that he was still fresh and strong he dashed ahead and took
the lead. Then followed another mile of hard running. Both bucks were
beginning to perspire freely now, and the white lather showed on their
flanks.
But neither one was winded or anywhere near the end of their strength.
White Tail felt that he could keep up the gait nearly all day. He felt
singularly fresh and strong. They had made half the circuit before
either could try to outdistance the other.
The rest of the race would decide which was the champion. Either they
had to run abreast of each other until the end, or one had to take the
lead. Suddenly, to White Tail’s surprise, Young Black Buck slowed down,
and said:
“We’re on even terms up to this point, White Tail. Suppose we rest
awhile, and then go on. The woods are so beautiful here, and I want to
see what kind of a place Puma lives in. He’s around here somewhere, I
suppose.”
“Yes, I came here one day with Father Buck, and he showed me where Puma
was. I smelt him and heard him.”
“How exciting!” exclaimed Young Black Buck. “I wonder if we’ll hear and
smell him today. I want to know what he looks like.”
“I’m not so interested in that,” laughed White Tail. “I don’t want to
get so close to him that he can see me.”
“No, but we might see him, and then steal silently away without being
caught.”
White Tail wasn’t so sure of that. He had a wholesome dread of Puma’s
hunting powers.
“We might stumble upon him and he see us first,” he added. “He’s very
sly, and can hide so no one can see him.”
“But we could smell him first.”
“Not if we were on the wrong side of the wind. Have you noticed which
way the wind is blowing?”
“Why, yes, from the right.”
“Then we don’t have to fear anything on that side. We must keep our eyes
and ears open on the left.”
“It’s my opinion,” said Young Black Buck slowly, “that Puma’s greatly
over-rated. Why, he hasn’t killed one of the herd as long as any one can
remember.”
“No, but that’s because Father Buck has been such a wise leader.”
Young Black Buck sniffed in scorn. “I don’t know that he’s been any
better or wiser than other leaders,” was the retort. “If my father had
been leader Puma or Timber Wolf wouldn’t have caught a deer. They
wouldn’t have dared. They’re all afraid of him.”
White Tail felt that this boasting wouldn’t get them anywhere, and would
in the end lead to unpleasant words; but he knew that if Puma or Timber
Wolf heard it they would laugh in glee.
“If you’re rested suppose we go back,” White Tail said. “We’re going to
make quicker time back. I’m going to run my best.”
“And I too. I’m going to beat you. I’m sorry you got tired out, and had
to rest. Well, I’m ready.”
White Tail could afford a smile at this remark, for Young Black Buck had
made the request to stop for a short time. Tired out! Why, he felt as
fresh and strong as when they started. He would punish Young Black Buck
by making his defeat as unpleasant as he could.
But before either one could start for the return trip there was a noise
among the leaves of the spruce tree under which they were standing, and
with visions of Puma crouching among the branches ready to drop down
upon them their hearts gave a great bound and almost stood still. In
another moment they would have been off like a shot, but there was a
flutter of wings, and Downy the Woodpecker, who had made the noise with
his beak, spoke.
“Hist! Listen!” he called. “Listen, White Tail—and you too, Young Black
Buck!”
Both of the runners stopped and looked up among the branches of the
trees where Downy was sitting.
“Puma is on your trail,” Downy added. “He caught your wind way back
there, and he’s been trailing you ever since. I saw him, and hurried to
tell you.”
“Thank you, Downy,” replied White Tail. “It’s time we were off. He can
never catch us if he’s behind.”
“I didn’t say he was behind you,” replied Downy. “He was on your trail,
but Puma’s too wise to follow you that way. You don’t know him. When he
picked up your trail, he followed you by the wind. While you were
running around in a circle, he’s been cutting across it. He’s between
you and the herd.”
“In that case,” said Young Black Buck in a frightened voice, “we’ll take
a wide circuit, and he’ll miss us.”
Again Downy shook his head. “You are young,” he said, “and don’t know
how Puma hunts. He hunts with his mate, and she’ll be off to the right
to head you off.”
“Then what can we do?” asked Young Black Buck, his legs shaking and his
voice trembling.
“I really don’t know what to say. I came here to tell you of your
danger. I can’t tell you what to do.”
“Couldn’t we go back a little on our track, and then get around Puma and
his mate?” asked White Tail, struggling hard to keep cool.
“I’m afraid if you do that you’ll run into Timber Wolf and his family.
Puma gave him the alarm, and he’s out with his whole pack to cut you off
in that direction.”
By this time Young Black Buck was so excited and frightened that he
hardly knew what to do. To be cornered by Puma and Timber Wolf, with all
the yelping pack, was a terrible thing, and there seemed no way of
escape. A sudden rustling in the bushes made him jump nearly five feet
away. Even White Tail leaped to one side.
But it wasn’t Puma or Timber Wolf. It was Washer the Raccoon, and what
Washer had to propose will appear in the next story. Washer was
considered a very wise, shrewd animal, and perhaps he had a way for them
to escape.
STORY VII
A RACE WITH PUMA AND TIMBER
Washer the Raccoon poked his nose out of the bushes, and looked
blinkingly at White Tail and Young Black Buck, while Downy the
Woodpecker gazed down at all three with an expression in his eyes that
plainly said: “Well, I’m glad I’ve got wings, and can fly away if I want
to.”
“Goodness!” grunted White Tail. “You frightened the life out of us,
Washer! We thought you were Puma or Timber creeping upon us.”
“Well, I’ve been mistaken for Groundy and Billy Mink, but never for Puma
or Timber before,” replied Washer. “It must be that you’re excited or
have a bad conscience. I wonder which it is.”
“Not the latter, I hope,” answered White Tail. “But as for being
excited, I think we have good reason for that. Downy just brought us
word that Puma and Timber, with their families are on our trail, and
have us surrounded.”
Washer sat up on his hind legs, and leaned against a tree. His shrewd,
golden eyes flashed brightly in the sunshine, and his double row of
white teeth glistened every time he opened his mouth.
“If that’s the case,” he said, “I think it’s about time I took to my
hole. I have no love or respect for Puma and Timber.”
“Neither have we,” said Young Black Buck, “but we have no hole to run
in. What are we going to do?”
“If you only had wings I could answer that question,” interrupted Downy.
“I know what I’d do.”
“And if you had a hole you could crawl in, I could advise you,” added
Washer.
Of course, this brought no relief to either White Tail’s or Young Black
Buck’s harassed minds. They weren’t interested in what Downy or Washer
would do. They wanted to know what they could do to escape the terrible
trap.
Suddenly to make their situation more desperate, a distant howl rent the
air. It was Timber Wolf calling to the pack. Almost instantly there was
an answering cry on the left, then another in front, and a third on the
right.
“It’s the pack’s hunting cry,” exclaimed Washer. “They’re calling to
each other as they close in. Yes, they’ve picked up your scent, White
Tail.”
Young Black Buck got so frightened and excited that he leaped around in
a circle, uttering plaintive little whimpers. “I’m going to run,” he
said, “even if I do nothing but go around and around in circles. I can’t
stand still.”
“You’d better save your strength, Young Black Buck,” advised White Tail.
“You may need all of it for the race, for it is clear to me that we must
trust to our heels to beat them.”
“What’s that?” exclaimed Young Black Buck, as a snarl in the distance
alarmed them.
“It’s Puma and his mate creeping up from this direction,” said White
Tail more alarmed than ever. “With Puma and his mate in the rear, and
Timber’s pack in front and on either side, what chance have we?”