Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

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

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

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?

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?”

“Wait a minute!” exclaimed Washer quietly. “I think I can suggest a way. My hole is right on the edge of Black Ravine. I built it there so I could watch the sun rise every morning. It’s a beautiful place, even if I do say so.”

White Tail and Young Black Buck turned to him, and waited impatiently for him to proceed. Washer was aggravatingly slow. They were not a bit interested in the beautiful view he had from his hole.

“Black Ravine drops down fifty feet, and if I should ever forget myself and fall over the edge it would be the last of me,” Washer continued, deliberately picking his teeth with a twig. “Yes, I told Mrs. Washer several times it was a beautiful but dangerous spot to bring up our children. They might tumble into the ravine.”

“Never mind the ravine, Washer,” interrupted White Tail. “You said you had a way for us to escape. Please tell us what it is.”

“I was coming to that. You’re very impatient, White Tail. And the ravine has a good deal to do with my plan. It’s twenty feet across from side to side. Can you jump twenty feet?”

“Why, I don’t know, but maybe if—”

“All right then,” Washer interrupted. “I’ll show you the way to Black Ravine in front of my house. If Puma or Timber pursue you all you got to do is to leap across the ravine. Timber couldn’t follow you, and I don’t think Puma can jump that far. If he couldn’t you’d have a big head start. Puma and Timber would have to go a mile down the ravine before they could cross. It’s wider in front of my house than at the ends.”

Washer’s plan dawned upon their minds in an instant, and both bucks sprang up as if to start for Black Ravine at once.

“We’ll do it!” exclaimed White Tail. “I’ll make the jump if I fall in the ravine. It’s better that way than to be pulled down by Puma or Timber.”

“It’s much better not to fall at all,” was Washer’s quiet remark. “But now don’t get excited, or you’ll jump from the frying-pan into the fire. How do you know if one of Timber’s family isn’t watching the ravine? He may be.”

This suggestion dashed their hopes, and sent the cold chills down their backs. No one could tell where the wolves and pumas were scattered. They were closing in upon them on all sides. They might surprise the cornered bucks before ever they could reach Black Ravine.

“The only way I can suggest,” added Washer, “is for Downy to fly ahead, and report to us where they’re hiding. You could do that, Downy, couldn’t you?”

“Why, certainly. I’d be glad to.”

“Then I wouldn’t waste any time.”

Downy immediately flew away in the direction of Black Ravine, while White Tail and Young Black Buck waited impatiently for his return. It seemed a long, long time to them, and every few moments they could hear the call of Timber and his pack. They were drawing nearer and nearer until finally it seemed as if one was in the bushes not a dozen rods away.

Downy came back finally, and said:

“It’s all right, but you must hurry. They’re closing in so that if you don’t reach Black Ravine soon they’ll head you off. This way! Follow me!”

He flew off to the right, but swift as he was White Tail and Young Buck were hardly a yard behind him. They fairly flew across the ground, leaping low bushes and trees in their flight. Washer, being much slower, decided not to follow. He knew another hole where he could hide until the danger was over.

“Here they come!” screamed Downy suddenly. “Now run for your lives! There’s Black Ravine ahead!”

At the same instant Timber and his pack broke cover, and started for the fleeing bucks in the open. Close on their right was Puma and his mate. They set up a yelping and howling that made the blood of the deer curdle. It had to be a short race, for other wolves ahead threatened to cut them off.