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THE TALE OF NIMBLE DEER
_SLEEPY-TIME TALES_
(Trademark Registered)
BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
AUTHOR OF
_TUCK-ME-IN TALES_
(Trademark Registered)
THE TALE OF CUFFY BEAR
THE TALE OF FRISKY SQUIRREL
THE TALE OF TOMMY FOX
THE TALE OF FATTY COON
THE TALE OF BILLY WOODCHUCK
THE TALE OF JIMMY RABBIT
THE TALE OF PETER MINK
THE TALE OF SANDY CHIPMUNK
THE TALE OF BROWNIE BEAVER
THE TALE OF PADDY MUSKRAT
THE TALE OF FERDINAND FROG
THE TALE OF DICKIE DEER MOUSE
THE TALE OF TIMOTHY TURTLE
THE TALE OF MAJOR MONKEY
THE TALE OF BENNY BADGER
[Illustration: Nimble Told Everybody He Met.
_Frontispiece_--(_Page 27_)]
_SLEEPY-TIME TALES_
(Trademark Registered)
THE TALE OF
NIMBLE DEER
BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
Author of
"TUCK-ME-IN TALES"
(Trademark Registered)
and
"SLUMBER-TOWN TALES"
(Trademark Registered)
ILLUSTRATED BY
HARRY L. SMITH
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY
GROSSET & DUNLAP
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE SPOTTED FAWN 7
II LEARNING THINGS 13
III AN INTERRUPTED NAP 18
IV PLANNING A PICNIC 23
V NIMBLE'S MISTAKE 29
VI AN UNEXPECTED PARTY 35
VII THE STRANGE LIGHT 39
VIII MRS. DEER EXPLAINS 44
IX A SPIKE HORN 49
X AT THE CARROT PATCH 54
XI CUFFY AND THE CAVE 60
XII CUFFY IS MISSING 65
XIII CUFFY BEAR WAKENS 70
XIV ANTLERS 75
XV A MOCK BATTLE 79
XVI MR. CROW LOOKS ON 84
XVII WHAT BROWNIE WANTED 90
XVIII THE MULEY COW 96
XIX THE JUMPING CONTEST 100
XX SOLVING A PROBLEM 104
XXI AN UNTOLD SECRET 109
XXII THE NEW HAT-RACK 113
XXIII HOW NIMBLE HELPED 118
XXIV UNCLE JERRY CHUCK 123
THE TALE OF
NIMBLE DEER
I
THE SPOTTED FAWN
When Nimble's mother first looked at him she couldn't believe she would
ever be able to raise him. He was such a tiny, frail, spotted thing that
he seemed too delicate for a life of adventure on the wooded ridges and
in the tangled swamps under the shadow of Blue Mountain.
"Bless me!" cried the good lady. "This child's not much taller than an
overgrown beet top and he can't be any heavier than one of Farmer
Green's prize cabbages. And his legs--" she exclaimed--"his legs are no
thicker than pea pods.... They'll be ready to eat in another month," she
added, meaning _not_ her child's legs, as you might have supposed, but
Farmer Green's early June peas. For Nimble's mother was very fond of
certain vegetables that did not grow wild in the woods.
Of course young Nimble did not know what she was talking about. He had a
great deal to learn. And he would have to wait until he was a good deal
bigger before his mother took him on an excursion, by night, across the
fields to Farmer Green's garden patch.
All at once Nimble leaped quickly upon his slightly wobbly legs. He
trembled and gazed up at his mother with a look of fear in his great
eyes. At the same time his mother, too, lifted her head and listened
for a few moments. "Don't be afraid!" she said then, to Nimble. "That's
old Spot--Farmer Green's dog--barking. But he's down near the barns, so
we don't need to worry."
That was the first time Nimble had ever heard a dog's voice. Yet no one
needed to tell him that it wasn't a pleasant sound.
Even his mother couldn't help feeling that she had better put a wide
stretch of rough country between her new youngster and old Spot's home.
So in a little while she led the way slowly along the pine grown ridge
which bent around a shoulder of the mountain. She was headed for the
spring which marked the beginning of Broad Brook.
Her little spotted fawn, Nimble, kept close beside her. Slowly as his
mother moved, he found the traveling none too easy. And he was glad when
she stopped in a pocket-like clearing. There she spoke to a proud
speckled bird who was sitting on a log and amusing himself by spreading
his tail feathers into a beautiful fan.
"Good morning, Mr. Grouse!" said Nimble's mother.
"Good morning, madam!" replied the gentleman with the fan. "What a
handsome child you have! There's nothing quite like spots--or
speckles--to add to a person's looks."
"They _are_ pretty," Nimble's mother agreed with a happy glance at her
son.
"I can't say he favors his mother," Mr. Grouse remarked.
"Oh, I had spots enough when I was young," she explained. "You see, all
our family lose our spots as we grow up."
"I'm glad to say," Mr. Grouse said with a flirt of his tail, "that all
our family keep their spots, every one of them."
"We get to be so swift-footed that we don't need spots," said Nimble's
mother.
That speech seemed to displease Mr. Grouse.
"I hope," he cried, "you don't mean to say that we Grouse aren't swift!"
"No, indeed!" Nimble's mother answered hastily.
"I should hope _not_!" was Mr. Grouse's response to that. "For everybody
knows that we go up like rockets at the slightest sign of danger."
"Exactly!" said Nimble's mother. "You are so swift that you don't really
need those spots to help conceal yourself, once you're grown up."
"They're handy to have, all the same," he told her. "And as for this
youngster of yours, you needn't worry much about him. He'll be safe
enough in the woods. He looks just like a patch of sunlight that has
fallen through a tree top upon a leaf-strewn bank."
Nimble's mother was pleased to hear that.
"Yes!" said Mr. Grouse cheerfully. "He'll be safe enough--except for
the Foxes."
And that remark didn't please Nimble's mother at all.
II
LEARNING THINGS
Nimble's mother hadn't liked Mr. Grouse's remark about Foxes. Somehow
she couldn't put Foxes out of her mind. And not once did she mean to let
Nimble wander out of her sight.
At first, when he was only a tiny chap, it was easy for her to keep her
young son near her. But Nimble grew a little livelier with each day that
passed. And it wasn't long before he began to annoy his mother and worry
her, too. For he soon fell into the habit of dodging behind something or
other, such as a baby pine tree or a clump of blackberry bushes, when
his mother wasn't looking. Every time she missed her spotted fawn the
poor lady was sure a Fox had snatched him up and dragged him away. And
when she found Nimble again she was so glad that she hadn't the heart
to punish him.
However, one day she talked to him quite severely.
"Do you want a Fox to catch--and eat--you?" she asked him.
"No, Mother!... Has a Fox ever eaten you?"
"Certainly not!" Nimble's mother answered.
"Do you expect to be caught by a Fox?"
"No, indeed!" said his mother.
"Then there can't be any great danger," Nimble remarked lightly.
"Ah! There's always danger of Foxes so long as you're a little fawn,"
she explained. "When you're grown up--or even half grown--no Fox would
dare touch you. But if you wandered away alone at your tender age and
you met a Fox----" Well, the poor lady was so upset by the mere thought
of what might happen that she couldn't say anything more just then.
But her son Nimble was not upset.
"If I met a Fox," he declared bravely, "I'd be safe enough. I'd stand
perfectly still. And he wouldn't be able to see me, on account of my
spots."
"Ah! But if the wind happened to be blowing his way he'd be sure to
smell you," cried Nimble's mother. "And he would find you. And he
would jump at you."
"I'd run away from him then," said Nimble stoutly.
His mother shook her head.
"You're spry for your age. But you're too slow to escape a Fox. You're
not quick enough for that yet. You don't know how quick Foxes are. So
look out! Look out for a sly fellow with a pointed nose and a bushy
tail!"
In spite of all these warnings Nimble didn't feel the least bit alarmed.
And the older he grew the less he heeded his mother's words. He thought
she was too careful. She seemed always to be on the watch for some
danger. She was forever stopping to look back, lest somebody or
something might be following her. Whenever she picked out a good resting
place behind a clump of evergreens, out of the wind, she never lay down
without first retracing her steps for a little way and peering all
around. Then, of course, she had to walk back again before she sank down
on the bed of her choosing. It all seemed very silly to young Nimble.
"What's the use," he finally asked her one day, "what's the use of
fussing so much over your back tracks?"
"You should always know what's behind you," said his mother. "Besides,
I can't rest well if I'm uneasy."
"Do you feel easy now?" he inquired, for she had just then lain down
after giving her back tracks her usual attention.
"Quite!" said Nimble's mother, as she closed her eyes and heaved a deep
sigh of contentment.
Her answer pleased Nimble. He smiled faintly as he watched her closely.
And he chuckled when his mother's head nodded three times and then sank
lower and lower.
Presently Nimble rose to his feet, without making the slightest rustle.
And very carefully he stole away.
III
AN INTERRUPTED NAP
Nimble, the fawn, stole away into the woods while his mother was
sleeping. And when he went he took great pains not to disturb her.
He was careful not to step on a single twig. For young as he was, he
knew that the sound of a breaking twig was enough to rouse his mother
instantly out of the deepest sleep. And he made sure that he didn't set
his little feet on any stones. For he knew that at the merest click of
a hoof his mother would bound up and discover that he had left her.
So Nimble trod only upon the soft carpet of pine needles and made not
the slightest noise. Meanwhile his mother slept peacefully on--or as
peacefully as anybody can who is a light sleeper and keeps one ear
always cocked to catch every stir in the forest.
She never missed her son at all until she found herself suddenly wide
awake and on her feet, ready to run. Not seeing Nimble beside her, for a
moment or two she forgot she had a child. Her only thought was to flee
from the creature that was crashing through the underbrush beyond the
old stone wall and drawing nearer to her every instant.
It was a wonder that she didn't dash off then and there. Indeed she took
one leap before she remembered who she was and that she had a youngster
named Nimble.
Then, of course, she stopped short and looked wildly around. But she saw
no little spotted fawn anywhere.
She had been startled enough, before, roused as she was out of a sound
sleep. And now she was terribly frightened.
"Nimble!" she called. "Where are you?"
"Here I am!" Nimble answered. Even as he spoke he burst into sight,
leaping the stone wall in such a way that his mother couldn't help
feeling proud of him.
"What's the matter?" she cried. "Who's chasing you?"
"Nobody's chasing me," Nimble told her. "When I saw the Fox I hurried
back here."
"The Fox!" his mother exclaimed. "Well, he won't dare touch you while I
am with you." She began to breathe easily again. If it was only a Fox
she certainly didn't intend to run. "Where did you see the Fox?" she
demanded.
"He was right over my head," Nimble said.
"My goodness!" his mother gasped. "That was dangerous. Was he on a bank
above you?"
"He was in a tree," Nimble replied.
His mother gave him a queer look.
"What's that?" she asked him sharply. "In a tree? What did he look like?
Was he red?"
"He was grayish and he had black rings around his long bushy tail; and
his long pointed nose stuck out from under a black mask."
"Nonsense!" cried Nimble's mother. "You didn't see a Fox. You saw a
Coon!"
Nimble was puzzled.
"You told me once," he reminded his mother, "that a Fox was a sly fellow
with a bushy tail and a long pointed nose. And this person in the tree
had----"
"Yes! Yes!" said his mother. "Now listen to what I say: A Fox is red.
And his tail has no rings at all. And Foxes don't climb trees."
"Yes, Mother!" was Nimble's meek answer.
He was glad to learn all that. And he was glad, too, that his mother
hadn't asked him how he happened to stray off alone into the woods.
IV
PLANNING A PICNIC
While he was only a fawn Nimble became very fond of water lilies. But he
didn't carry them as a bouquet, nor wear one in his buttonhole. He was
fond of lilies in a different way: he liked to eat them, and their flat,
round, glossy pads. At night his mother often led him to the edge of the
lake on the other side of Blue Mountain and there they feasted.
It was wonderful to stand in the cool water, not too far from the shore,
with the moonlight shimmering on the ruffled lake, and breathe in the
sweet scent of the lilies while nibbling at their pads.
"There's nothing," said Nimble to his mother one night, "nothing so good
to eat as water lilies."
His mother said, "Humph! Wait till you've tasted carrots!"
"Carrots!" Nimble echoed. "What are carrots and where can I find some?
Do they grow in this lake?"
"Carrots," his mother explained, "are vegetables and they grow in Farmer
Green's garden."
When he heard that, Nimble wanted to start for Farmer Green's place at
once. But his mother said, "No!" And he soon saw that she meant it, too.
However, the word _carrots_ was in his mouth a good deal of the time,
for days and nights afterward. But Nimble wasn't satisfied with having
only the _word_ in his mouth. There was no taste to that at all. Nor
could he chew it, nor swallow it. He was wild to bite into a carrot and
see if it actually was more toothsome than a water lily. Again and again
he said to his mother, "Can't we go down to Farmer Green's garden patch
to-night? If we wait much longer somebody else will eat all the carrots
before we get a taste of them." Or maybe he would exclaim, "Let's have
some carrots for supper! Please!"
It was no wonder that Nimble's mother grew very tired of his teasing. At
last she said to him, when he was urging her to take him down the hill
and across the meadow to Farmer Green's vegetable garden, "There's no
sense in our going down there now. The carrots aren't big enough yet.
They aren't ready to eat. But later, if you show you're trustworthy, and
if you mind well, and if you grow enough, and if you can start quickly
and run fast, perhaps I'll see that you have your first meal of
carrots. Now, don't bother me any more!"
Well, there were so many _ifs_ in his mother's promise that Nimble
almost gave up hope of ever getting to Farmer Green's garden patch. He
didn't quite dare expect that his mother would take him there with her.
But he made up his mind that if she didn't he would go on a carrot hunt
alone as soon as he could.
At the same time he practiced minding his mother, which was not always
a pleasant thing to do. And he practiced starting and running, both of
which were a good deal of fun. As for growing, Nimble did not need to
practice that at all; for he was getting heavier and taller every day,
without doing anything more than to eat and to sleep and to have the
best time possible.
Meanwhile he told everybody he met that if all went well he would be
eating carrots some day. And when his friends learned that he planned
to go on an excursion to Farmer Green's garden patch there wasn't one
of them that didn't say he would like to go too.
Jimmy Rabbit said he really ought to have a look at the cabbages. And if
Nimble didn't mind he thought it would be pleasant to join the party.
Patty Coon remarked that there were certain matters connected with corn
which he must attend to, and if there was no objection he would go along
with the rest, when the time came for the excursion. Even Cuffy Bear,
who almost never went near the farm buildings, declared that there was
nothing he would enjoy more than to make the trip with Nimble and his
mother. He had once tasted baked beans. And ever since that occasion he
had meant to see if he couldn't find some around Farmer Green's house.
Of course it would have been awkward to say no. So Nimble said yes to
everybody. He even promised that he would let all his friends know when
the excursion should take place.
But of all these things he said not a word to his mother. He was not
sure that they would please her. In fact he was sure that they
wouldn't.
V
NIMBLE'S MISTAKE
One morning Nimble's mother said to him, "To-night, just as the moon
rises, we'll start for Farmer Green's garden patch."
He knew what that meant. It meant that he was going to know, at last,
what carrots tasted like. And he was delighted.
"You've improved fast," his mother told him. "You've grown a good deal.
You start to run much more quickly than you did a month ago; and you're
quite speedy now. I must say that you don't mind me any too well. Take
care that to-night you do exactly as you're ordered!"
Nimble promised. "I'll be good," he said. "No matter how many carrots
you want me to eat, I'll finish every one."
"No matter if you haven't had a chance to eat a single carrot, if I
tell you to run you must obey instantly," his mother warned him. "Two
seconds' delay might be fatal," she added solemnly. "If we hear a twig
snap you mustn't stop to look nor listen."
"Yes!" said Nimble. But ten minutes later he couldn't have repeated a
word that his mother said--except that they were going to start for the
garden when the moon rose. That much he told Jimmy Rabbit when he met
him in the woods a little while afterward. And Jimmy Rabbit agreed to
get the news, somehow, to Fatty Coon and Cuffy Bear.
He was as good as his promise--even better. For Jimmy told everybody he
met that day. He explained about the excursion to the garden patch and
said that every one must be ready to start just as the moon peeped over
the rim of the world, for Nimble Deer's mother wouldn't wait for anybody
that wasn't on hand.
Nimble found that day a long one. He was so eager to get a carrot
between his lips that he thought night would never come. But darkness
fell at last. And some hours later his mother said to him, "Are you
ready?"
He was. So together they passed silently along the old runway which
led, as his mother knew, to the pasture fence. The woods were inky
black, for the moon had not yet risen. But Nimble's mother remarked
that she thought they would see it when they reached the open hillside.
Just before they came to the fence somebody spoke. Nimble's mother
jumped when somebody cried, "Good evening!" But she knew at once that
it was only Jimmy Rabbit.
"I see you're on time," he said. "I haven't been waiting long."
"Waiting?" Nimble's mother exclaimed. "Waiting for what?"
"For you!" he answered. "I heard you were going down to the garden
patch to-night; and I'm to be one of the party."
The good lady thought it queer. How did Jimmy Rabbit happen to have
heard of the excursion? She couldn't imagine. But he was a harmless
little fellow. Really she didn't mind having him go with her.
"Very well!" she told him. "But remember: You must be quiet!" And she
was just about to walk up to the fence when she gave a searching look
all around. "Bless me!" she muttered. "I never saw so many eyes in all
my life. Who are all these people?"
It was no wonder she asked that question. For no matter where she
turned, pairs of eyes burned in the darkness.
Strangely enough, nobody answered. Jimmy Rabbit didn't say a word. And
as for Nimble, he didn't seem to hear--nor understand--anything his
mother said.
"I repeat," she spoke again, "who are these people? Why have they
gathered here? The woods aren't afire, are they?" And she lifted her
nose and sniffed at the air. But she could find no trace of smoke.
Somehow Nimble began to feel ill at ease. He edged away from his mother
and tried to hide behind Jimmy Rabbit. And that was a ridiculous thing
to do; because Nimble was ever so much the bigger of the two.
Presently his mother gave him a sharp look. And then he, too, raised
his muzzle and sniffed.
"I don't smell any smoke," he stammered.
"Do you know why there's such a crowd here?" she asked him sternly.
"I think," he said, "they expect to go to the garden patch with us."
And his mother wondered, then, why she hadn't guessed the secret
instantly.
VI
AN UNEXPECTED PARTY
Nimble's mother's plans went all awry. She had expected to give her son
a treat by taking him quietly to Farmer Green's carrot patch, so that
he might have his first taste of carrots. So it wasn't strange that it
upset her a bit when she found that there were dozens of other forest
folk all ready and waiting to go along with them. One extra member of
the party wouldn't have displeased her, especially when that one was
Jimmy Rabbit. But she had never gone near the farm buildings with more
than two others. And she didn't intend to break her rule now.
Besides, it annoyed her above all to know that her son had spread the
news of the excursion far and wide.
"Did you _invite_ these people?" she asked Nimble in a low voice.
"No! Oh, no!"
"Then what brings them here?" she demanded.
"Their legs, I suppose," he replied.
"Be careful!" she said. "Be very careful!"
Then Nimble began to whine. And that was something he almost never did.
"They said they'd like to come," he told his mother. "And I said maybe
you wouldn't mind."
"Well, I do mind," she declared firmly. "When I take a child to the
carrot patch for the first time I don't want company. One of this crowd
is more than likely to rouse old dog Spot. And we can't have him
ranging around while we're dining."
"Then tell everybody to go home!" Nimble suggested. "Tell them to go
'way!"
"No!" said his mother. "That wouldn't be polite."
She was silent for a few moments. And then she explained to Jimmy Rabbit
and to the owners of the pairs of eyes that still stared at her out of
the darkness. She explained that on account of an unexpected party she
wasn't going to the carrot patch that night.
"When are you going?" asked the owner of one pair of specially bright
eyes.
"Ha!" Nimble's mother exclaimed. "Is that Cuffy Bear speaking?"
"Yessum!" said the same voice.
"I fear," she told him, "I may not be able to go for a long time."
"Never mind!" Cuffy cried. "I can go any night--that is, until I den up
for the winter."
And every one in the company declared that he hadn't a single engagement
that would prevent him from visiting the garden whenever Nimble's mother
should say the word.
"Well," said she, "it won't be to-night, anyhow." And with that she
turned around and began to walk along the runway again, away from the
pasture fence.
As Nimble followed her Jimmy Rabbit skipped alongside him and whispered
in his ear.
"Don't fail to let me know when the time comes!"
But Nimble said never a word. Somehow he suspected that he had made a
great mistake.
He _knew_ he had, a little later.
VII
THE STRANGE LIGHT
Weeks went by; and still Nimble's mother said no more about visiting
Farmer Green's carrot patch. Nimble himself did not dare to mention
carrots now. It was his own fault that the excursion had been postponed.
And much as he still wanted a taste of carrots the whole affair was
something he didn't care to talk about.
Anyhow, it was lucky that he liked water lilies. For his mother took him
to the lake behind Blue Mountain every night, almost. And there they
splashed in the shallows and ate all they wanted.
Most of those nights were much alike. But there was one that Nimble
remembered for many a day afterward.
It was not a dark night; neither was it a light one. It was a
half-and-half sort of night. There was a moon. But it was far from full.
And it was not high in the sky. The light from it came slanting down
upon the lake, throwing the shadows of the trees far out upon the water.
Where those shadows reached out darkly Nimble and his mother stood with
the water lapping their sleek bodies. And they were eating so busily
that neither of them noticed a blurred shape that glided slowly nearer
and nearer to them, without making the slightest sound.
All at once a shaft of dazzling light swept along the shore. Nimble was
so surprised and puzzled that he stopped eating to stand still and gaze
at it.
[Illustration: Never Had Nimble Run So Fast Before.
_Page_ 42]
But only for a moment! Instantly his mother flung her tail upward, so
that the under side of it gleamed white even in the half light. And
that--as Nimble knew right well--that was the danger signal.
Almost before Nimble knew what was happening his mother made for the
shore. As she plunged through the water her tail, still aloft like a
flag, twitched from side to side.
Nimble needed no urging to follow it. Soon they scrambled, dripping, out
of the lake to dive headlong into the cover of the overhanging willows.
In those few seconds the light darted swiftly towards them. But it was
not quite quick enough. Only the ripples told where they had been
standing. Only the gently waving branches of the willows showed where
Nimble and his mother had vanished.
A noise like a thunder-clap crashed upon Nimble's ears and rolled and
tumbled in the distance, tossed from the mountain to the hills across
the lake, and back again. It frightened Nimble much more than did the
odd whistle that whined just above his head a moment before the thunder
peal.
Never had he run so fast before. Never had his mother set such a pace
for him. Usually, when startled, she stopped after going a short
distance and looked back to try to get a glimpse of whoever or whatever
had alarmed her. To be sure, she always stopped in a good place, like
the edge of Cedar Swamp, where she could duck out of sight if need be.
But this time Nimble's mother ran on and on without pausing.
"Haven't you forgotten something?" her son gasped after a while.
"Forgotten something? What do you mean?" she asked.
"Haven't you forgotten to stop?" Nimble inquired.
A queer look came over her face.
"I declare," she said, "I do believe I'd Have run all night if you
hadn't reminded me." She fell into a walk. And neither of them said
another word until they reached the swamp, which was one of his
mother's favorite hiding places. Then Nimble spoke again.
"I waved my flag too," he said proudly.
VIII
MRS. DEER EXPLAINS
For the first time in his life Nimble felt quite grown up. He forgot
that he had not yet lived a whole summer. He had made a suggestion to
his mother which she had promptly acted upon. It had never happened
before. And that was enough to cause him great pleasure.
Then there was something else that made Nimble believe himself to be a
person of some account: A strange affair had happened at the lake. He
had seen it all. He had taken part in it himself. Really it was no
wonder that he began to talk quite importantly.
"It was lucky I was with you," he remarked to his mother as they rested
amid the tangle of Cedar Swamp.
"It was lucky we weren't any further out in the lake," she exclaimed.
"If you hadn't been with me no doubt I'd have gone where the water was
much deeper. And that light would have caught me before I could have
reached the shore."
What his mother said made Nimble feel bigger than ever. He wasn't quite
sure what had happened back there, where they had been surprised while
eating water lilies. But he meant to find out, for he thought it would
make a good story to tell his friends.
"Would the moon have burnt us if it had hit us?" he inquired.
"What in the world are you talking about?" his mother asked him.
He looked puzzled at her question.
"Wasn't that the moon that lit up the lake along the shore?" he
demanded.
"Certainly not!" she replied.
"Didn't the moon fall into the water?" he asked.
"No, indeed!" his mother cried. She was astonished at his question.
Nimble was disappointed. He had thought he had a wonderful tale to tell.
And he couldn't understand yet why everything wasn't as he had supposed.
"I was sure the moon fell into the lake and blew up," he explained.
"What was that terrible noise we heard if it wasn't the moon bursting
into pieces?"
His mother didn't laugh. Instead she was quite solemn as she answered
Nimble's last question.
"That--" she said--"that was a gun that you heard. And the light that
you saw came from a lantern in a boat."
It was very hard for Nimble to believe what she told him.
"I thought I heard a piece of the moon whistle past my head," he went
on.
"A bullet!" his mother declared. As she spoke she moved a little
distance, to a spot where the trees were not so thick. And she raised
her nose towards the sky. "There!" she said. "There's the moon! It's
still up there where you've always seen it."
Nimble looked; and at last he knew that his mother had made no mistake.
But somehow he was more frightened than ever.
"Then--" he faltered--"then there must have been men in the boat--men
that turned the light upon the shore--and fired the gun!"
"They were men--yes!" said his mother. "And they were lawbreakers, too.
I hope the game warden will catch them at their tricks."
"What is a game warden?" Nimble asked her.
"He's a man," she answered. "He's a man that looks after all of us
forest folk and he's the best friend we've got.... Goodness, child!
Are you never going to stop asking questions?"
IX
A SPIKE HORN
Nimble didn't mind losing his spots, when he grew older. He had
something else that gave him much more pleasure than they ever had. He
had a new toy. Or to be exact, he had two new toys. And everywhere he
went he carried them with him.
He carried them on his head. And he couldn't have left them behind in
the woods even if he had wanted to--at least not until he had enjoyed
them for a whole season.
Of course you have already guessed that he had a pair of horns. They
were not very big. But neither was Nimble, for that matter. So they
suited him well. A little deer like him would have looked queer wearing
great branching horns such as his father owned.
Nimble's horns were merely two spikes which stuck up out of the top of
his head in a pert fashion.
It was a proud day for him when an old deer spoke to him and called him
"young Spike Horn." About that time the forest folk had begun to speak
of him as a "yearling." But there was something about "Spike Horn" that
sounded much more important.
Somehow there was a new crop of Spike Horns that summer--Nimble's second
summer. And every one of them had been--like him--a little spotted fawn
the year before.
At first Nimble had thought it fun to use his new horns to jab anybody
that happened to be with him. One day he even stole up behind his own
mother and gave her a sharp prod with them.
He never did that again. His mother quickly taught him better. She
wheeled and struck him smartly with her fore feet.
"There!" she cried. "That's the first time a child of mine has played
that trick on me.... Let it be the last!"
And it was. Nimble was very careful, after that, to prod only those that
didn't mind such pranks.
Luckily he soon found that the other Spike Horns liked the same sort of
fun that he did. They were just as proud of their new horns as he was of
his. And (sad to say!) there was a good deal of boasting among them.
Each one declared that his own horns were the longest and strongest.
All the Spike Horns, including Nimble, were forever butting one another
in play. And they had just discovered a new sport when Nimble met with
what he feared, for a time, was a terrible accident.
Late in the fall, before the deep snows came, both his horns loosened
and dropped off his head.
"Oh! oh!" he cried when he saw what had happened. "I'll never be able to
take part in another mock battle again!" For the Spike Horns had had gay
times pretending to fight one another in a most savage fashion.
After Nimble lost his horns he carefully avoided all his playmates. He
didn't want the other Spike Horns to see him. At last, to his great
dismay, one day he came face to face with one of them. They both tried
to dodge out of sight. But the other, whose name was Dodger, was not
quite quick enough. Before he hid behind a thicket Nimble saw that he
had lost his horns too!
Then Nimble guessed the truth. He knew why it was that he had managed to
keep out of sight of his friends. Every Spike Horn in the neighborhood
had lost his horns! And every one of them had been trying to keep out of
sight.
X
AT THE CARROT PATCH
During his first summer Nimble never reached Farmer Green's carrot patch
once. His mother had planned to take him there. But on account of an
unexpected party she had postponed their visit. And somehow the right
night for a trip after carrots never seemed to come again.
Now, Nimble had never forgotten what his mother had told him about
carrots. And he was going after some--so he promised himself--just as
soon as he was big enough.
When Nimble's second summer rolled around he was big enough and old
enough to prowl through the woods and fields much as he pleased. He was
a Spike Horn. And he felt fit to go to the carrot patch without waiting
for anybody to show him the way.
So one night he stole down the hillside pasture, across the meadow, and
jumped the fence into Farmer Green's garden.
He saw at once that somebody was there ahead of him. It was Jimmy
Rabbit. He was very busy with one of Farmer Green's cabbages.
"I've come down to try the carrots," said Nimble.
Jimmy Rabbit made no reply, except to nod his head slightly. He was
eating so fast that he really couldn't speak just then.
"Are these carrots?" Nimble inquired, as he looked about at the big
cabbages, which crossed the garden in long rows.
Jimmy Rabbit shook his head.
"They seem to be good," said Nimble, "whatever they are. I'll taste of
one."
And he did. In fact he tasted of three or four of them, eating their
centers out neatly.
Meanwhile Jimmy Rabbit was becoming uneasy. And at last he spoke.
"I thought," he said, "you told me you had come down here to try the
carrots."
"So I did," Nimble answered. "But I don't know where the carrots are."
"Why didn't you say so before?" Jimmy Rabbit asked him. And without
waiting for a reply he cried, "Follow me! I'll show you." And he hopped
off briskly, with Nimble after him.
Soon Jimmy Rabbit came to a halt.
"Here it is!" he said. "Here's the carrot patch. Help yourself!" And
then he hopped away again, back to his supper of cabbages.
[Illustration: Nimble Deer Followed Jimmy Rabbit.
_Page 57_]
Nimble Deer began to eat the carrot tops. And he was greatly
disappointed.
"They're not half as good as those great round balls," he muttered. And
he turned away from the carrots, to go back and join Jimmy Rabbit. But
he hadn't gone far when he met Jimmy bounding along in a great hurry.
"Old dog Spot!" Jimmy Rabbit gasped as he whisked past Nimble. "He's out
to-night and he's coming this way."
In one leap Nimble sprang completely around and followed Jimmy Rabbit
across the meadow, up through the pasture and over the stone wall into
the woods. There they lost each other.
The next morning Nimble met his mother along the ridge that ran down
toward Cedar Swamp.
"I went down to the carrot patch last night," he told her. "And I must
say I don't see why you're so fond of carrots. They're not half as good
as some big green balls that I found in the garden. I call the carrot
leaves tough. But the big green balls have very tender leaves."
His mother gave him a queer look.
"Do you mean to tell me," she asked him, "that you ate only the _leaves_
of the carrots?"
"Why, yes!" said Nimble. "I saw nothing else to eat. There was no fruit
on them."
"Ho!" cried his mother. "You have to dig with your toes to reach the
carrots themselves. They're down in the ground. And to my mind there's
nothing any juicier and sweeter and tenderer than nice young carrots,
eaten by the light of the moon."
Nimble felt very foolish. And then he tossed his head and said lightly,
"Oh, well! It wouldn't have made any difference if I _had_ dug the
carrots out of the dirt. They wouldn't have tasted right anyhow. For
there was no moon last night!"
XI
CUFFY AND THE CAVE
Nimble did not spend all his spare moments with the other Spike Horns.
Once in a while he met Cuffy Bear prowling about near the foot of Blue
Mountain. But Nimble never had a mock battle with Cuffy. Cuffy Bear was
a famous boxer. And in each of his paws he carried long sharp claws.
What if Cuffy should forget to pull in those claws sometime, when he
struck you a playful tap? Ah! That wouldn't be very pleasant! This was
what Nimble thought about the matter. So he never butted Cuffy Bear nor
pricked him with his spikes.
On the whole they found each other good company. Cuffy liked to see
Nimble jump. And Nimble liked to see Cuffy climb trees.
One day, late in the fall, that year when Nimble was a Spike Horn, he
strayed half way up the side of Blue Mountain. It was seldom that Nimble
wandered so far up the steep and thickly wooded slopes. But old dog Spot
was ranging about the lower woods. And for once Nimble did not run for
Cedar Swamp when he heard the old dog bay. Instead he climbed steadily
until he was sure that he had shaken Spot off his trail.
Nimble had stopped for a drink at the spring which marked the beginning
of Broad Brook and there he met Cuffy Bear, who was just turning away
from the ice-framed pool. "Aren't you a long way from home?" Cuffy asked
him.
"Yes! But I can get down to my favorite ridge quickly enough, when I
want to," said Nimble. "Do you live in this neighborhood?"
"I'm not quite sure," Cuffy Bear replied. "I've had my eye on a snug den
a little further up the mountain. I'm thinking of living there, if it
suits me.... Wouldn't you like to see it?"
Nimble told Cuffy that he would be delighted. So they started up the
mountain, after Nimble had had his drink.
Cuffy Bear led the way. And in a short time he stopped in front of a
cave. A tangle of bushes hid the mouth of it. You'd have passed right
by it without ever guessing that there was any cave there.
"This is it," Cuffy Bear told Nimble. "Come right in!"
"No, thank you. I'd rather not," said Nimble. "I don't care for caves,
myself, though this seems to be a good one."
"It's worth seeing," Cuffy Bear urged.
"No, thank you!" Nimble repeated.
"You don't mind if I take a look at it?" Cuffy Bear inquired. "Maybe I
can make up my mind--about living here--if I look at the cave once
more."
"Go inside, by all means!" Nimble cried.
"Will you wait here till I come out?" Cuffy asked him.
And Nimble promised that he would wait.
Cuffy Bear yawned as he turned away. And Nimble thought it strange that
he didn't take the trouble to beg pardon, nor to cover the yawn with a
paw. Only a very careless--or a very sleepy--person would forget those
things, Nimble knew.
Well, Cuffy crept inside the cave. And outside Nimble waited. He waited
and waited, until at last the afternoon light began to fade.
"I wish he'd hurry," Nimble muttered. "We're going to have a storm and I
don't want to stay up here in it, all night."
Snowflakes were already falling. And Nimble wished he hadn't promised
that he would wait till Cuffy Bear came out of the cave.
He went to the entrance and called. But he got no answer.
"I hope nothing has happened to him," Nimble said.
But something had.
XII
CUFFY IS MISSING
Far up on the dark mountainside, in the driving snow, Nimble waited in
front of the cave where Cuffy Bear had vanished. And all the time Nimble
was growing more uneasy. He feared that Cuffy Bear might be in some sort
of trouble.
Nimble looked all about for help. But there wasn't a sign of anybody
stirring, anywhere. All the mountain people seemed to have sought
shelter from the storm.
At last, however, Peter Mink came sneaking up from the spring. He had
set out to follow Broad Brook all the way up to its beginning, on a
hunt for meadow mice. And when he set out to do a thing he always
finished it, no matter what the weather might be.
"You're just the person I want to see!" Nimble cried. "Will you do me a
favor?"
Now, Peter Mink never did anybody a favor if he could help it. So he
promptly said, "No!"
"Won't you go inside this cave for me and see what's happened to Cuffy
Bear?" Nimble implored him. "He went inside the cave. I promised to wait
for him here. And he has been gone for hours."
"I won't go into that cave for anybody," Peter Mink declared. "How do I
know you're not trying to play a trick on me? I don't see any Bear
tracks in the snow."
"Of course you don't!" Nimble agreed. "All this snow has fallen since
Cuffy crawled into the cave."
"Why don't you go inside yourself?" Peter Mink inquired with something
very like a sneer.
"I'm too tall," said Nimble. "Besides, I don't like caves. I keep out of
them."
"So do I!" Peter Mink declared--though everybody knew that he went
everywhere--even under the ice along Broad Brook and Swift River.
Poor Nimble didn't know what to do. He felt that he ought to go for
help, somewhere. But he had promised Cuffy Bear to wait for him.
Then all at once an idea came to him. Why not send Peter Mink for help?
"Won't you please go down to Cedar Swamp and ask Fatty Coon to come up
here?" Nimble begged Peter.
"I can't," Peter answered. "I must go home now." And everybody knew
that Peter Mink had no home at all! He was the vagabond of the woods.
Nimble saw then that it was useless to look for help from him. And after
Peter Mink had gone his surly way Nimble still lingered there. He was
hungry. So he began to paw the snow away here and there, to uncover the
ground growths. And just as he was nibbling beside a bush somebody said,
"Don't step on me!"
It was Mr. Grouse, half buried in the snow.
"I wondered why you were waiting here so long," Mr. Grouse told Nimble.
"When I heard you talking to that rascal, Peter Mink, I knew the reason.
But I didn't dare speak while he was about."
"Are you going to spend the night here?" Nimble asked him.
"Yes!" said Mr. Grouse. "I shall be snug and warm after the snow covers
me."
"Well, your head won't be covered for some time," Nimble told him. "Are
you willing to keep an eye out for Cuffy Bear? I'm going down to Cedar
Swamp to get help. And Cuffy Bear might come out of the cave while I'm
gone."
"I'd be glad to watch," Mr. Grouse replied, "but it wouldn't be any
use."
"Why not?" Nimble asked him. "Don't you think we'll see Cuffy again?"
"Oh, we'll see him," Mr. Grouse answered. "But it won't be till towards
spring. For there's no doubt that Cuffy Bear has fallen into his
winter's sleep."
And then Nimble exclaimed that Cuffy Bear had yawned as he turned away
to enter the cave. He hadn't even begged pardon, nor covered his mouth
with a paw.
"No doubt he was very, very sleepy," said Mr. Grouse.
XIII
CUFFY BEAR WAKENS
The winter after Nimble lost his spike horns was a mild one. The
snowfall was light. And Nimble was able to roam up and down Pleasant
Valley and about Blue Mountain as he pleased.
It happened that a certain bright day in early spring found him far up
the side of the mountain, near the cave where he had waited for Cuffy
Bear weeks before. And as that whole queer affair came back to his mind
Nimble remembered how he had fed upon the green things under the snow.
That thought made him hungry. So he began to paw away the soft heavy
snow, which wasn't more than a foot deep; and he was enjoying a good
meal when he heard a sudden _woof_ behind him.
Nimble wheeled instantly. And there, at the mouth of the cave, peering
over the tangle which screened it, Cuffy Bear stood upon his hind legs,
rubbing his eyes. Catching sight of Nimble, Cuffy blinked at him.
"Where's Nimble Deer, madam?" Cuffy Bear growled presently.
"I'm right here!" Nimble replied. "But please don't call me 'madam!'"
"You're not Nimble Deer. You're a Doe," Cuffy Bear insisted. "You have
no horns."
"I'm a Deer," Nimble retorted. "I had horns; but I've shed them."
Cuffy Bear _woofed_ a bit more. He seemed to be somewhat ill-tempered.
"You can't fool me," he grunted. "Nimble Deer's horns were firm upon his
head when I left him here and stepped inside this cave. He agreed to
wait for me; and I'm surprised that he broke his promise."
"I am Nimble Deer," Nimble declared again. "You led me to this spot from
the spring. You told me you wanted to take another look at this cave
because you were thinking of making it your winter home."
Cuffy Bear eyed Nimble with astonishment. And he shambled up to Nimble
and sniffed at him.
"It _is_ you!" Cuffy cried at last. "So you _did_ wait for me!"
"No, I didn't," Nimble confessed.
"But here you are!" Cuffy Bear retorted. "You _must_ have been waiting
for me. And if I've kept you a bit longer than I intended to, I'm sorry.
I think I fell asleep in that den and had a short nap."
[Illustration: Nimble Deer Tells Cuffy Bear About His Horns.
_Page 71_]
"A short nap!" Nimble repeated. "You've been asleep in there all winter!
It's weeks and weeks since I last saw you. And I'm here now only because
I happened to wander this way, when I heard old dog Spot baying."
Cuffy Bear was so surprised that he couldn't say another word. His mouth
fell open. And he gazed blankly at Nimble.
But at last he spoke. "I must apologize to you," he said, "though it was
really no wonder I called you 'madam.' You have changed a great deal
since I left you here."
"And you--" Nimble told him--"you have changed too."
"I have?" Cuffy Bear cried. "How's that? How have I changed?"
"You look much hungrier," Nimble explained.
Cuffy Bear laid a paw across his waistcoat.
"I _am_ hungry," he admitted. "And if you're going down the mountain I
think I'll stroll along with you and see what I can find to eat."
"Very well!" Nimble agreed.
"One moment!" Cuffy Bear said hastily. "Just one moment, please! Wait
till I go inside my cave! I believe I left my cap in there."
"I'm not going to wait for you," Nimble replied firmly. "For all I know
you might not come out again till haying time."
And then Nimble trotted off down the mountainside, heading for Cedar
Swamp. For he didn't think old dog Spot would wander in that direction.
XIV
ANTLERS
Although Nimble had lost his horns he managed to go through the winter
without missing them as much as he had expected. And in time he had
almost forgotten the pair of spikes that he had worn on his head the
summer before. Then, one day, he made a great discovery. He found that
new horns were sprouting to take the place of those that he had lost!
"Now I can have some mock battles again--when my horns get long enough,"
he thought. And then he stopped short. What if the Spike Horns of the
year before had no more horns? If they were hornless they certainly
wouldn't care to take part in any mock battles.
Nimble's fears were soon set at rest. His old playmates soon let him
know that they were all going to have new horns too.
And then, a little later, Nimble made another great discovery. He was
looking into a pool one morning when he saw something that gave him huge
delight. His new horns were not like last year's horns. He beheld,
mirrored in the water, a handsome pair of Y-shaped antlers, each with
two points!
"Hurrah!" he cried. "I'll make those Spike Horns feel like hiding
themselves again."
He had expected to have a pleasant time showing his new antlers to his
old friends. When he met Dodger the Deer, Nimble called to him: "See
what I've got! Antlers! Two points!"
"Ho!" said Dodger. "So have I got antlers. And they have two points,
too."
Nimble had been so interested in his own horns that he hadn't looked at
Dodger's. And now when he gazed at them he saw that they were like his.
"What about the rest of the Spike Horns?" Nimble asked Dodger. "Have
they----"
"Yes, they have!" Dodger interrupted. "I tell you, 'two-pointers' are
common this season."
"So there aren't any more Spike Horns!" said Nimble somewhat sadly.
"Oh, yes! Plenty!" Dodger answered. "But they're an entirely new crop.
They were fawns last year."
When he heard that bit of news Nimble felt happier. And as soon as he
parted from Dodger the Deer he went and found some of the new Spike
Horns and showed them his wonderful two-point antlers.
But somehow they didn't seem at all impressed. They were too much taken
up with their own spikes to pay any attention to Nimble.
"Anyhow," he said to himself, "we 'two-pointers' can have some good mock
battles together."
And they did. They had mock battles that became famous all around Blue
Mountain. And of all the "two-pointers" that lived in that neighborhood,
Nimble and his friend Dodger the Deer were known as the best
sham-fighters. They could look fiercer and act angrier than any of their
young friends. And the way they tore into each other was almost enough
to frighten you, if you had seen them.
Old Mr. Crow said it was worth flying a mile to watch one of their
set-tos.
XV
A MOCK BATTLE
When Nimble had three-points on each of his antlers, in his fourth
summer, he felt that he was at last grown up. He was now a
"three-pointer." Some of the older bucks had no more points than he.
Many of them were but "four-pointers." His own father had been a
"five-pointer." So Nimble hoped, secretly, that he would have five-point
antlers in another two years.
As soon as his new horns were ready Nimble and his friend Dodger the
Deer began their mock battles again. And Nimble found them greater fun
than ever.
Dodger was a spry fellow. He was quick as a flash at dodging. When
Nimble ran at him with head lowered and horns aimed straight at him
Dodger could wait until Nimble all but struck him, before leaping aside.
And then Nimble would go rushing past him.