The forest sweltered under a scorching sun. Since it rose it had driven
even the tiniest cloudlet from the sky, and shone all alone in the wide
blue depths that were pallid now with heat. Over the meadows and the
tree-tops the air quivered in glassy, transparent ripples as it does
over a flame. Not a leaf was moving, not a blade of grass. The birds
were silent and sat hidden among the shady leaves, never stirring from
their places. All the paths and trails in the thicket were empty. Not a
creature was abroad. The forest lay as though hurt by the blinding
light. The earth and the trees, the bushes, the beasts breathed in the
intense heat with a kind of sluggish satisfaction.
Bambi was asleep.
He had made merry with Faline all night. He had pranced around with her
until broad daylight, and in his bliss had even forgotten to eat. But he
had grown so tired that he did not feel hungry any more. His eyes fell
shut. He lay down where he happened to be standing in the middle of the
bushes, and fell asleep at once.
The bitter acrid odor that streamed from the sun-warmed juniper, and the
penetrating scent of spurge laurel, mounted to his head while he slept
and gave him new strength. Suddenly he awoke in a daze. Had Faline
called him? Bambi looked around. He remembered seeing Faline as he lay
down, standing close beside him near the white-thorn, nibbling the
leaves. He had supposed she would remain near him, but she was gone.
Apparently she had grown tired of being alone by now and was calling for
him to come and look for her.
As Bambi listened he wondered how long he could have slept and how often
Faline had called. He wasn’t sure. Veils of sleep still clouded his
thought.
Then she called again. With a sidewise spring Bambi turned in the
direction the sound came from. Then he heard it again. And suddenly he
felt perfectly happy. He was wonderfully refreshed, quieted and
strengthened, but racked by a terrific appetite.
The call came again clearly, thin as a bird’s twittering, tender and
full of longing: “Come, come!” it said.
Yes, that was her voice. That was Faline. Bambi rushed away so fast that
the dry branches barely crackled as he burst through the bushes and the
hot green leaves scarcely rustled.
But he had to stop short in the midst of his course, and swerve to one
side, for the old stag was standing there, barring his path.
Bambi had no time for anything but love. The old stag was indifferent to
him now. He would meet him again somewhere later on. He had no time for
old stags now, however noble they might be. He had thoughts for Faline
alone. He greeted the stag hastily and tried to hurry by.
“Where are you going?” asked the old stag earnestly.
Bambi was somewhat embarrassed and tried to think of an evasion, but he
changed his mind and answered truthfully “To her.”
“Don’t go,” said the old stag.
For a second a single angry spark flared up in Bambi’s mind. Not go to
Faline? How could the mean old stag ask that? “I’ll simply run off,”
Bambi thought. And he looked quickly at the old stag. But the deep look
that met him in the old stag’s eyes held him fast. He quivered with
impatience but he did not run away.
“She’s calling me,” he said in explanation. He said it in a tone which
clearly bleated, “Don’t keep me talking here.”
“No,” said the old stag, “she isn’t calling.”
The call came once again, thin as a bird’s twittering, “Come!”
“Listen,” Bambi cried excitedly, “there it is again.”
“I hear it,” said the old stag, nodding.
“Well, good-by,” Bambi flung back hurriedly.
“Stop!” the old stag commanded.
“What do you want?” cried Bambi, beside himself with impatience. “Let me
go. I have no time. Please, Faline is calling.... You ought to see
that....”
“I tell you,” the old stag said, “that it isn’t she.”
Bambi was desperate. “But,” he said, “I know her voice.”
“Listen to me,” the old stag went on.
Again the call came. Bambi felt the ground burning under his feet.
“Later,” he pleaded, “I’ll come right back.”
“No,” said the old stag sadly, “you’ll never come back, never again.”
The call came again. “I must go! I must go!” cried Bambi who was nearly
out of his wits.
“Then,” the old stag declared in a commanding voice, “we’ll go
together.”
“Quickly,” cried Bambi and bounded off.
“No, slowly,” commanded the old stag in a voice that forced Bambi to
obey. “Stay in back of me. Move one step at a time.”
The old stag began to move forward. Bambi followed, sighing with
impatience.
“Listen,” said the old stag without stopping, “no matter how often that
call comes, don’t stir from my side. If it’s Faline, you’ll get to hear
her soon enough. But it isn’t Faline. Don’t let yourself be tempted.
Everything depends now on whether you trust me or not.”
Bambi did not dare to resist, and surrendered in silence.
The old stag advanced slowly and Bambi followed him. O how cleverly the
old stag moved! Not a sound came from under his hoofs. Not a leaf was
disturbed. Not a twig snapped. And yet they were gliding through thick
bushes, slinking through the ancient tangled thicket. Bambi was amazed
and had to admire him in spite of his impatience. He had never dreamed
that anybody could move like that.
[Illustration: _The old stag advanced slowly and Bambi followed him._]
The call came again and again. The old stag stood still, listening and
nodding his head. Bambi stood beside him, shaken with desire, and
suffering from restraint. He could not understand it at all.
Several times the old stag stopped, although no call had come, and
lifted his head, listening and nodding. Bambi heard nothing. The old
stag turned away from the direction of the call and made a detour. Bambi
raged inwardly because of it.
The call came again and again. At last they drew nearer to it, then
still nearer. At last they were quite near.
The old stag whispered, “No matter what you see, don’t move, do you
hear? Watch everything I do and act just as I do, cautiously. And don’t
lose your head.”
They went a few steps farther and suddenly that sharp, arresting scent
that Bambi knew so well struck them full in the face. He swallowed so
much of it that he nearly cried out. He stood as though rooted to the
ground. For a moment his heart seemed pounding in his throat. The old
stag stood calmly beside him and motioned with his eyes.
He was standing there.
He was standing quite close to them leaning against the trunk of an oak,
hidden by hazel bushes. He was calling softly, “Come, come!”
Bambi was completely bewildered. He was so terrified that he began to
understand only by degrees that it was He who was imitating Faline’s
voice. It was He who was calling, “Come, come!”
Cold terror shot through Bambi’s body. The idea of flight gripped him
and tugged at his heart.
“Be still,” whispered the old stag quickly and commandingly as if he
meant to forestall any outbreak of fear. Bambi controlled himself with
an effort.
The old stag looked at him a little scornfully at first, it seemed to
Bambi. He noticed it in spite of the state he was in. But the stag
changed at once to a serious and kindly look.
Bambi peered out with blinking eyes to where He was standing, and felt
as if he could not bear His horrible presence much longer.
As if he had read this thought, the old stag whispered to him, “Let’s go
back,” and turned about.
They glided away cautiously. The old stag moved with a marvelous zigzag
course whose purpose Bambi did not understand. Again he followed with
painfully controlled impatience. The longing for Faline had harassed him
on the way over; now the impulse to flee was beating through his veins.
But the old stag walked on slowly, stopping and listening. He would
begin a new zigzag, then stop again, going very slowly ahead.
By this time they were far from the danger spot. “If he stops again,”
thought Bambi, “it ought to be all right to speak to him by now, and
I’ll thank him.”
But at that moment the old stag vanished under his very eyes into a
thick tangle of dogwood shrubs. Not a leaf stirred, not a twig snapped
as the stag slipped away.
Bambi followed and tried to get through as noiselessly, and to avoid
every sound with as much skill. But he was not so lucky. The leaves
swished gently, the boughs bent against his flanks and sprang up again
with a loud twang; dry branches broke against his chest with sharp
piercing snaps.
“He saved my life,” Bambi kept thinking. “What can I say to him?”
But the old stag was nowhere to be seen. Bambi came out of the bushes.
Around him was a sea of yellow, flowering goldenrod. He raised his head
and looked around. Not a leaf was moving as far as he could see. He was
all alone.
Freed from all control, the impulse to flee suddenly carried him away.
The goldenrods parted with a loud swish beneath his bounding hoofs as
though under the stroke of a scythe.
After wandering about for a long time he found Faline. He was
breathless, tired and happy and deeply stirred.
“Please, beloved,” he said, “please don’t ever call me again. We’ll
search until we find each other, but please don’t ever call me ... for
I can’t resist your voice.”