But I first issue my challenge to the older ones. That is my right. I
may be old and weak, my eyes may be growing dim, and my legs less active
and sure; but I am still leader, and I issue the first challenge. All
you bucks more than three seasons old step forth! It is to you I issue
this challenge. Come and accept it. I will fight for the leadership!”
An uneasy thrill swept the multitude. Each turned to look the other in
the eye. Who would accept Father Buck’s challenge? Black Buck hesitated,
measuring the sturdy limbs of the leader with his own, and comparing the
thick-set neck and head of antlers with those of his immediate
neighbors. There was not one qualified to enter the lists and hope to
carry off the honors.
“I hear no one!” shouted Father Buck. “The challenge is not accepted. So
be it! Then we come to the second challenge. Here, too, the law gives me
the right to fight with the younger bucks for leadership. We have many
of them—young, sturdy, bright-eyed offsprings of ours who will some day
win honors in the chase. They have eyes as keen as ours were at one
time; limbs as straight and strong; minds as active and intelligent. We
have taught them the ways of the woods, and they come to the Council
Tree today to prove their rights.”
He stopped and gazed around at the big assembly. His words and
commanding figure had made even Father Buck’s worst enemies respectful.
The outcome of the meeting was still uncertain and wrapped in mystery.
“Therefore,” the leader continued after a pause, “it is for them to
decide the leadership. I have no wish to challenge them. I could not
conquer them if I chose. It shall be as they decide. Who of the younger
ones challenges for the high honor of leader to take my place?”
A thrill of excitement passed around, for the crucial moment had now
arrived. Father Buck did not intend to fight to retain the leadership.
There was an instant pause in which you could have heard a twig snap,
and then Young Black Buck, with head held high, stepped to the center of
the semi-circle. He trotted gracefully around several times, and then
halted before Father Buck.
“I, Young Black Buck, son of Black Buck of Dismal Swamp, challenge for
the leadership! I shall prove my right to it by the one test that is
required by the law of the herd—a battle with all comers!”
“It is well, Young Black Buck!” replied Father Buck, looking at the
haughty eyes of the challenger. “You have been the first to challenge.
Is there any other?”
The aged leader turned his head just a little so that his eyes could
rest upon White Tail, but it did not need this look to inspire his son.
White Tail had already started forward, and with no less pride and
dignity than Young Black Buck he trotted into the center of the
clearing.
“I, White Tail, son of your great leader and of Mother Deer, accept the
challenge. As I have proved greater than Young Black Buck in the chase,
in the long jump, and in other ways, I shall prove to you in combat that
I am better fitted to lead the herd than he.”
The excitement reached a climax when White Tail had finished his
challenge, but Father Buck raised his head again to speak.
“Who next challenges! The law of the herd permits any one under three
seasons. Who speaks?”
There was no answer, and no one stepped forward. The aged leader cast
his eyes slowly around the crowd to make sure he had missed none, and
then returned to the two challengers.
“So be it!” he said. “The leadership shall be settled between these
two—White Tail and Young Black Buck. The herd must accept the victor as
their leader.”
In the next story will come the combat.
STORY XV
THE GREAT COMBAT
Now the law of the herd says that the challengers for leadership shall
fight until one or the other is victor. If it takes hours or days or
weeks it must continue until one is beaten and can no longer fight. The
rules are simple. He must prove himself the victor by strength, cunning,
intelligence, trickery or any other way. The leader must be supreme so
that none again dare challenge his authority.
It is always a battle royal in the woods. It never ends in a draw,
except in those few sad but rare cases when horns and antlers get
interlocked, and neither can pull away until both starve. Then a new
challenge must be issued, and another leader chosen. Of this, both White
Tail and Young Black Buck knew, and above all they sought to keep their
horns and antlers from becoming interlocked. It availed the victor
little to conquer if he starved with the vanquished.
When they sprang toward each other with lowered heads, they kept a wary
eye out for the other’s twisted antlers. It was a light charge at first,
a mere test of skill and strength; but their heads came together with a
shock that sounded throughout the woods.
Then they withdrew, and trotted around each other, waiting for a
favorable opening. Both knew that one blow against the side or limbs of
the other would cripple his antagonist so the fight would be short.
After circling White Tail three times, Young Black Buck launched his
head straight for the flanks of his enemy, and for a moment it looked as
if he would gain a great advantage; but at the critical instant White
Tail turned and met the charge head-on. The clash of antlers was
terrific but neither went down.
Next they butted in short, sharp swings of the head, slashing, cutting
and pounding with all their might. It was like a close-in sparring match
between two skilled boxers, each waiting for an opening to deliver a
fatal blow. But both were as swift in defense as in offense.
They withdrew from the conflict, and trotted around each other once
more. This time White Tail led the attack. Rearing on his hind legs, he
brought all the weight of his body in a downward blow that made Young
Black Buck shake and tremble. For a moment neither could recover from
the terrible shock, so swift and powerful had the blow been. A thrill of
excitement went through the assembled herd.
“Well done!” exclaimed Father Buck.
“But not better than my son can do!” echoed Black Buck.
To prove the truth of his father’s words, Young Black Buck turned a
complete circle, suddenly reared, and brought his head down in another
terrific blow. White Tail received it, and for a time their horns and
antlers became locked. They pulled and jerked, pushed and twisted all
over the open space to free their heads. With a sudden snap, the antlers
loosened, and they were free once more.
The battle grew more vigorous now that the two combatants were warmed to
the fray. They began to put more speed in their motions, and more force
in their blows. Confident that neither one could take advantage of the
other, they fell back to hard hitting. In this strength counted, and it
was soon seen that they were pretty evenly matched. Again and again they
received and administered punishment.
It may have seemed cruel to one not acquainted with the laws of the wild
deer, but not so to the spectators nor to the fighters. The leadership
had to be decided in this manner, and either combatant had the right to
stop it by yielding to the other. But neither White Tail nor Young Black
Buck had any intention of doing this.
The blood of the older ones was warmed by the sight. Father Buck
recalled the day when he fought Black Buck for leadership, and he was
proud of his son now fighting over again his own battles. Even Mother
Deer, tenderhearted as she was, admired and applauded White Tail. She
knew the battle once decided in his favor would never have to be
repeated.
White Tail suddenly delivered a crushing blow upon his enemy’s head that
brought him to his knees. For an instant every one held his breath, but
before White Tail could take advantage of it with another blow he
slipped and nearly fell to his own knees. Young Black Buck was up in an
instant, and made a wild rush for his adversary. White Tail was
prepared, and received it steadily.
The combat continued for an hour, two hours, three hours, until the
flanks of both were covered with foam. And still they butted and bucked,
and fought with all their might! Their breath was coming in short gasps,
and their eyes flashing defiance.
All that morning the fight continued, with slight intervals for rest.
Then they returned to it, each more determined than ever to defeat his
rival. Young Black Buck soon showed signs of weakening, and his father
noticing it, called out:
“Let them rest until another day! They have done enough today!”
“No! no!” shouted a dozen voices.
“The combat must go on!” replied Father Buck. “Not until they both ask
for a rest can it stop.”
It was renewed with greater vigor. Growing weak by the strain, they fell
more often to their knees. The crashing of horns in mighty blows could
no longer be resisted so easily. They were longer in recovering from the
blows, and slower in getting to their feet.
“Shall we put it off until another day?” asked Young Black Buck suddenly
to his rival.
“No, it shall be settled today,” replied White Tail, breathing hard. “I
can fight for weeks yet. I remember your lies about me, Young Black
Buck. I recall your treachery in the woods! I think of how you lost me
in Dismal Swamp so I might be disgraced! And now you shall be punished
for them! I shall fight you until you can’t get up again!”
“That will never happen, White Tail! You can never do that!”
But this boast was hard to make good. Young Black Buck was showing
weariness. Again and again he stumbled and fell to his knees. And each
time White Tail sprang at him and delivered a series of mighty blows
with his head.
Once Young Black Buck failed to get quickly back to his feet, and White
Tail rushed him. With all the speed and power he could summon he
delivered a crushing blow, and knocked his rival down until all four
legs were doubled up under him.
White Tail stood over him. “Call me leader!” he snorted.
“Never!” grunted Young Black Buck, and tried to rise. White Tail knocked
him flat again before he could rise.
“Call me leader!” he challenged again.
“Never!” came a fainter cry.
Again White Tail flattened him out, and issued the challenge the third
time, and once more Young Black Buck refused.
Four times White Tail flattened him on the ground, and the fifth time
Young Black Buck could not rise.
“Call me leader!”
There was no response. Young Black Buck was too weak to answer. White
Tail stood over him. Three times Young Black Buck tried to rise, but
fell back. He was too weak to respond to the challenge or to get to his
feet. The battle was over! White Tail was victor!
“Who challenges my leadership now!” White Tail bellowed, glaring around.
And none replied! Their very silence made him their choice. In the next
story White Tail succeeds his father and becomes leader of the herd.
STORY XVI
WHITE TAIL MADE LEADER OF THE HERD
By defeating Young Black Buck in combat, White Tail was, according to
the law of the herd, chosen leader until another should grow up and
displace him. The decision on the battlefield could not be changed or
altered. Even Black Buck and his son recognized this, and without
protest they permitted Father Buck to complete the ceremony.
“The law of the herd has been vindicated,” he said, after White Tail had
trotted around the vast circle, and challenged in vain any other
antagonist. “White Tail shall henceforth be your leader. To him
obedience shall be given, and any who refuses shall be driven into
exile. If there is any opposition it must be stated now.”
Black Buck’s wicked eyes flashed angrily. He was doubly disappointed
that his son had failed, for his own defeat years before came back to
torment him. Young Black Buck was too exhausted to speak, and if there
was any protest it had to come from his father.
“Young Black Buck have you anything to say?” continued Father Buck,
turning to the defeated.
Young Black Buck shook his head wearily. There was no fight left in him.
“You promise to obey the new leader?”
Again the weary shaking of the head, followed by a sign as the
vanquished dropped down and closed his eyes.
“And you, Black Buck of Dismal Swamp?”
“I will follow and obey the leader, as I followed and obeyed you, Father
Buck,” was the answer. “There is nothing else for me to do. I submit to
the law.”
Father Buck turned to White Tail, whose distended nostrils and flashing
eyes indicated that he was still ready to fight for his honor. The eyes
of father and son met an instant in an exchange of pride and happiness.
“It is well then,” continued the ex-leader. “White Tail shall henceforth
be the head of the herd. I go back to my place among the older bucks to
follow.”
A certain wistfulness crept into his voice and eyes. It was hard to
yield the proud position, to hand over the burdens and glory of leader
to another. None could do it without a certain amount of regret—not even
though the successor was his own son.
“I have led you many, many seasons,” continued Father Buck, “and always
with success. Puma and Timber have never raided the herd in my time. We
have foiled and deceived them, finding new pasture fields where they
could not come. We have been safe from Loup the Lynx and Sneaky the Gray
Wolf. I have fought them both, holding them at bay with my mighty horns,
and once I remember it was a hard fought, desperate battle with Sneaky.
But before he could call his pack the herd had escaped, and I fled from
him on the wind.”
He paused a moment, swinging his head proudly from side to side. “And
our pasture fields have always been rich and sufficient,” he continued.
“I have led you where the food was plentiful even in the depths of the
winter. In snow and rain we have fared well. Our fawns and does have
been safe. Not one has been lost through bad leadership. We have
multiplied and grown strong. Today we stand first among the great herds
of the timberland. May we continue to grow and thrive under our new
leader.”
With his farewell address finished, Father Buck stepped from under the
Council Tree, and White Tail, knowing that he was expected to assume
control, trotted up to take his place. Some noticed that, as he passed
Father Buck, he was taller and stronger in limb than the ex-leader. The
tips of his antlers towered a full foot higher than those of Father
Buck. Even his enemies noticed this, and were satisfied that he would
prove a good leader.
“Father Buck has spoken well,” White Tail began, as he glanced proudly
around at the herd. “His leadership has been successful, and I shall
make it more so. If I fail you, may I fall in the chase and break my
neck! If I show weakness or cowardice, may Puma or Timber Wolf pull me
down and eat out my heart! If I show lack of wisdom and justice, may
Loup the Lynx or Sneaky trip me, and devour me. I shall be your leader,
and next to me—”
He stopped and glanced from one to another. He had the right to choose
the one next to him in power, one who would lead the herd if he were
sick or away.
“—and the next to me in authority,” he added, “comes Young Black Buck. I
have no ill will for him. The past must be forgotten. All I ask from him
is loyalty and support. The safety of the herd must always be his first
thought. He must give his life, if necessary, to protect the does and
fawns in my absence. Do you promise this, Young Black Buck?”
Surprised by this honor thrust so unexpectedly upon him, Young Black
Buck opened his weary eyes, and jumped to his feet. He trotted into the
circle, and once more held his head high.
“White Tail,” he began in a trembling voice, “I don’t deserve this, but
if you ask it I shall accept. I pledge loyalty and friendship. I shall
make it the law of my life to support your leadership and to do all I
can for the herd. Is that enough?”
“It is all we can ask, Young Black Buck,” answered White Tail. “Now,
under the Council Tree, we pledge ourselves to the service of the herd
and to each other’s support. Let it be understood that when I am away,
Young Black Buck shall be in command, and it is the duty of every one to
follow and obey him. It is so agreed! The Council is now finished.”
The meeting immediately broke up, and the deer and bucks mingled
together to congratulate the new leaders, for the council had ended
happily, and there was no bitter feeling carried away. The older ones
related to the young ones stories of other similar meetings under the
Council Tree, and the latter listened eagerly to these tales.
Father Buck and Mother Deer withdrew silently, leaving White Tail in
command, with the whole herd crowding around him to flatter and
congratulate. There was a new spring in the ex-leader’s steps as he
trotted away, and Mother Deer, walking along by his side, noticed it.
“You do not act like a fallen leader,” she said, smiling. “I haven’t
seen you walk so lightly and happily for a long time.”
“A fallen leader is not always to be pitied, my dear,” Father Buck
replied. “The greatest thing he can do is to lead his people
successfully, and the next greatest thing is to rear a son to take his
place. Have I not done both?”
Mother Deer nodded and smiled. Father Buck turned to her and
affectionately licked her neck. “And the greatest thing you could do,”
he added, “is to train your son so that he is worthy to lead. I’m proud
of White Tail, and still prouder of you, Mother Deer. He is your son!”
A little later White Tail found them together in the woods, talking and
smiling, and so happy in the possession of each other’s love that
neither seemed to regret the loss of authority. And White Tail, watching
them, said to himself:
“The honor of being leader of the herd is not all mine. I owe much of it
to them. They have trained me and taught me, and suffered for me, that I
might succeed. I shall never forget that.”
And to the end of his days, which were many, White Tail never forgot
that to have good parents was greater even than to be leader of the
herd.
The next story in the Twilight Series is entitled: Washer the Raccoon.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bumper the White Rabbit
STORY I
WHERE BUMPER CAME FROM
There was once an old woman who had so many rabbits that she hardly knew
what to do. They ate her out of house and home, and kept the cupboard so
bare she often had to go to bed hungry. But none of the rabbits suffered
this way. They all had their supper, and their breakfast, too, even if
there wasn’t a crust left in the old woman’s cupboard.
There were big rabbits and little rabbits; lean ones and fat ones;
comical little youngsters who played pranks upon their elders, and
staid, serious old ones who never laughed or smiled the livelong day;
boy rabbits and girl rabbits, mother rabbits and father rabbits, and
goodness knows how many aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces, cousins, second
cousins and distant relatives-in-law! They all lived under one big roof
in the
The continuation of this interesting story will be found in
BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT
Price 65 Cents Postpaid
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers
517 S. Wabash Ave. Winston Building 129 Spadina Ave.
CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA, PA. TORONTO, ONT.
BUSTER THE BIG BROWN
BEAR
STORY I
WHEN BUSTER WAS A CUB
In the North Woods where Buster was born, a wide river tinkles merrily
over stones that are so white you’d mistake them for snowballs, if you
were not careful, and begin pelting each other with them. The birches
hanging over the water look like white sticks of peppermint candy,
except in the spring of the year when they blossom out in green leaves,
and then they make you think of fairyland where everything is painted
the colors of the rainbow.
The rocks that slope up from the bank of the river are dented and broken
as if some giant in the past had smashed them with his hammer, cracking
some and punching deep holes in others. It was in one of these holes, or
caves, that Buster was born.
He didn’t mind the hard rocky floor of his bed a bit, nor did he mind
the darkness, nor the cold winds that swept through the open doorway. He
was so well protected by his
The continuation of this interesting story will be found in
BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR
Price 65 Cents Postpaid
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers
517 S. Wabash Ave. Winston Building 129 Spadina Ave.
CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA, PA. TORONTO, ONT.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Changed “more Black Buck” to “more Young Black Buck” on p. 126.
2. Silently corrected typographical errors.
3. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.
4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.