Another night passed and morning brought an event.
It was a cloudless morning, dewy and fresh. All the leaves on the trees
and the bushes seemed suddenly to smell sweeter. The meadows sent up
great clouds of perfume to the tree-tops.
“Peep!” said the tit-mice when they awoke. They said it very softly. But
since it was still gray dawn they said nothing else for a while. For a
time it was perfectly still. Then a crow’s hoarse, rasping caw sounded
far above in the sky. The crows had awakened and were visiting one
another in the tree-tops. The magpie answered at once, “Shackarakshak!
Did you think I was still asleep?” Then a hundred small voices started
in very softly here and there. “Peep! peep! tiu!” Sleep and the dark
were still in these sounds. And they came from far apart.
Suddenly a blackbird flew to the top of a beech. She perched way up on
the topmost twig that stuck up thin against the sky and sat there
watching how, far away over the trees, the night-weary, pale-gray
heavens were glowing in the distant east and coming to life. Then she
commenced to sing.
Her little black body seemed only a tiny dark speck at that distance.
She looked like a dead leaf. But she poured out her song in a great
flood of rejoicing through the whole forest. And everything began to
stir. The finches warbled, the little red-throat and the gold finch were
heard. The doves rushed from place to place with a loud clapping and
rustling of wings. The pheasants cackled as though their throats would
burst. The noise of their wings, as they flew from their roosts to the
ground, was soft but powerful. They kept uttering their metallic,
splintering call with its soft ensuing chuckle. Far above the falcons
cried sharply and joyously, “Yayaya!”
The sun rose.
“Diu diyu!” the yellow-bird rejoiced. He flew to and fro among the
branches, and his round, yellow body flashed in the morning light like a
winged ball of gold.
Bambi walked under the great oak on the meadow. It sparkled with dew. It
smelled of grass and flowers and moist earth, and whispered of a
thousand living things. Friend Hare was there and seemed to be thinking
over something important. A haughty pheasant strutted slowly by,
nibbling at the grass seeds and peering cautiously in all directions.
The dark, metallic blue on his neck gleamed in the sun.
One of the Princes was standing close to Bambi. Bambi had never seen any
of the fathers so close before. The stag was standing right in front of
him next to the hazel bush and was somewhat hidden by the branches.
Bambi did not move. He wanted the Prince to come out completely, and was
wondering whether he dared speak to him. He wanted to ask his mother and
looked around for her. But his mother had already gone away and was
standing some distance off, beside Aunt Ena. At the same time Gobo and
Faline came running out of the woods. Bambi was still thinking it over
without stirring. If he went up to his mother and the others now he
would have to pass by the Prince. He felt as if he couldn’t do it.
“O well,” he thought, “I don’t have to ask my mother first. The old
Prince spoke to me and I didn’t tell Mother anything about it. I’ll say,
‘Good morning, Prince.’ He can’t be offended at that. But if he does get
angry, I’ll run away fast.” Bambi struggled with his resolve which began
to waver again.
Presently the Prince walked out from behind the hazel bush onto the
meadow.
“Now,” thought Bambi.
Then there was a crash like thunder.
Bambi shrank together and didn’t know what had happened. He saw the
Prince leap into the air under his very nose and watched him rush past
him into the forest with one great bound.
Bambi looked around in a daze. The thunder still vibrated. He saw how
his mother and Aunt Ena, Gobo and Faline fled into the woods. He saw how
Friend Hare scurried away like mad. He saw the pheasant running with his
neck outstretched. He noticed that the forest grew suddenly still. He
started and sprang into the thicket. He had made only a few bounds when
he saw the Prince lying on the ground in front of him, motionless. Bambi
stopped horrified, not understanding what it meant. The Prince lay
bleeding from a great wound in his shoulder. He was dead.
“Don’t stop!” a voice beside him commanded. It was his mother who rushed
past him at full gallop. “Run,” she cried. “Run as fast as you can!” She
did not slow up, but raced ahead, and her command brought Bambi after
her. He ran with all his might.
“What is it, Mother?” he asked. “What is it, Mother?”
His mother answered between gasps, “It—was—He!”
Bambi shuddered and they ran on. At last they stopped for lack of
breath.
“What did you say? Tell me, what it was you said,” a soft voice called
down from overhead. Bambi looked up. The squirrel came chattering
through the branches.
“I ran the whole way with you,” he cried. “It was dreadful.”
“Were you there?” asked the mother.
“Of course I was there,” the squirrel replied. “I am still trembling in
every limb.” He sat erect, balancing with his splendid tail, displaying
his small white chest, and holding his forepaws protestingly against his
body. “I’m beside myself with excitement,” he said.
“I’m quite weak from fright myself,” said the mother. “I don’t
understand it. Not one of us saw a thing.”
“Is that so?” the squirrel said pettishly. “I saw Him long before.”
“So did I,” another voice cried. It was the magpie. She flew past and
settled on a branch.
“So did I,” came a croak from above. It was the jay who was sitting on
an ash.
A couple of crows in the tree-tops cawed harshly, “We saw Him, too.”
They all sat around talking importantly. They were unusually excited and
seemed to be full of anger and fear.
“Whom?” Bambi thought. “Whom did they see?”
“I tried my best,” the squirrel was saying, pressing his forepaws
protestingly against his heart. “I tried my best to warn the poor
Prince.”
“And I,” the jay rasped. “How often did I scream? But he didn’t care to
hear me.”
“He didn’t hear me either,” the magpie croaked. “I called him at least
ten times. I wanted to fly right past him, for, thought I, he hasn’t
heard me yet; I’ll fly to the hazel bush where he’s standing. He can’t
help hearing me there. But at that minute it happened.”
“My voice is probably louder than yours, and I warned him as well as I
could,” the crow said in an impudent tone. “But gentlemen of that stamp
pay little attention to the likes of us.”
“Much too little, really,” the squirrel agreed.
“Well, we did what we could,” said the magpie. “We’re certainly not to
blame when an accident happens.”
“Such a handsome Prince,” the squirrel lamented. “And in the very prime
of life.”
“Akh!” croaked the jay. “It would have been better for him if he hadn’t
been so proud and had paid more attention to us.”
“He certainly wasn’t proud.”
“No more so than the other Princes of his family,” the magpie put in.
“Just plain stupid,” sneered the jay.
“You’re stupid yourself,” the crow cried down from overhead. “Don’t you
talk about stupidity. The whole forest knows how stupid you are.”
“I!” replied the jay, stiff with astonishment. “Nobody can accuse me of
being stupid. I may be forgetful but I’m certainly not stupid.”
“O just as you please,” said the crow solemnly. “Forget what I said to
you, but remember that the Prince did not die because he was proud or
stupid, but because no one can escape Him.”
“Akh!” croaked the jay: “I don’t like that kind of talk.” He flew away.
The crow went on, “He has already outwitted many of my family. He kills
what He wants. Nothing can help us.”
“You have to be on your guard against Him,” the magpie broke in.
“You certainly do,” said the crow sadly. “Good-by.” He flew off, his
family accompanying him.
Bambi looked around. His mother was no longer there.
“What are they talking about now?” thought Bambi. “I can’t understand
what they are talking about. Who is this ‘He’ they talk about? That was
He, too, that I saw in the bushes, but He didn’t kill me.”
Bambi thought of the Prince lying in front of him with his bloody,
mangled shoulder. He was dead now. Bambi walked along. The forest sang
again with a thousand voices, the sun pierced the tree-tops with its
broad rays. There was light everywhere. The leaves began to smell. Far
above the falcons called, close at hand a woodpecker hammered as if
nothing had happened. Bambi was not happy. He felt himself threatened by
something dark. He did not understand how the others could be so
carefree and happy while life was so difficult and dangerous. Then the
desire seized him to go deeper and deeper into the woods. They lured him
into their depths. He wanted to find some hiding place where, shielded
on all sides by impenetrable thickets, he could never be seen. He never
wanted to go to the meadow again.
Something moved very softly in the bushes. Bambi drew back violently.
The old stag was standing in front of him.
Bambi trembled. He wanted to run away, but he controlled himself and
remained. The old stag looked at him with his great deep eyes and asked,
“Were you out there before?”
“Yes,” Bambi said softly. His heart was pounding in his throat.
“Where is your mother?” asked the stag.
Bambi answered still very softly, “I don’t know.”
The old stag kept gazing at him. “And still you’re not calling for her?”
he said.
[Illustration: _The old stag kept gazing at him._]
Bambi looked into the noble, iron-gray face, looked at the stag’s
antlers and suddenly felt full of courage. “I can stay by myself, too,”
he said.
The old stag considered him for a while; then he asked gently, “Aren’t
you the little one that was crying for his mother not long ago?”
Bambi was somewhat embarrassed, but his courage held. “Yes, I am,” he
confessed.
The old stag looked at him in silence and it seemed to Bambi as if those
deep eyes gazed still more mildly. “You scolded me then, Prince,” he
cried excitedly, “because I was afraid of being left alone. Since then I
haven’t been.”
The stag looked at Bambi appraisingly and smiled a very slight, hardly
noticeable smile. Bambi noticed it however. “Noble Prince,” he asked
confidently, “what has happened? I don’t understand it. Who is this ‘He’
they are all talking about?” He stopped, terrified by the dark glance
that bade him be silent.
Another pause ensued. The old stag was gazing past Bambi into the
distance. Then he said slowly, “Listen, smell and see for yourself. Find
out for yourself.” He lifted his antlered head still higher. “Farewell,”
he said, nothing else. Then he vanished.
Bambi stood transfixed and wanted to cry. But that farewell still rang
in his ears and sustained him. Farewell, the old stag had said, so he
couldn’t have been angry.
Bambi felt himself thrill with pride, felt inspired with a deep
earnestness. Yes, life was difficult and full of danger. But come what
might he would learn to bear it all.
He walked slowly deeper into the forest.