The Adventures of Lightfoot the Deer | Page 7

Green Forest. When he had entered the Green Forest
that morning he had first of all made sure of the direction from which
the Merry Little Breezes were coming. Then he had begun to hunt in
that direction, knowing that thus his scent would be carried behind him.
It is more than likely that he would have reached the hiding-place of
Lightfoot the Deer before the latter would have known that he was in
the Green Forest, had it not been for Sammy Jay's warning.
When he reached the tangle of fallen trees behind which Lightfoot had
been hiding, he worked around it slowly and with the greatest care,
holding his terrible gun ready to use instantly should Lightfoot leap out.
Presently he found Lightfoot's footprints in the soft ground and
studying them he knew that Lightfoot had known of his coming.

"It was that confounded Jay," muttered the hunter. "Lightfoot heard
him and knew what it meant. I know what he has done; he has circled
round so as to get behind me and get my scent. It is a clever trick, a
very clever trick, but two can play at that game. I'll just try that little
trick myself."
So the hunter in his turn made a wide circle back, and presently there
was none of the dreaded man-smell among the scents which the Merry
Little Breezes brought to Lightfoot. Lightfoot had lost track of the
hunter.
CHAPTER VIII
WIT AGAINST WIT
It was a dreadful game the hunter with the terrible gun and Lightfoot
the Deer were playing in the Green Forest. It was a matching of wit
against wit, the hunter seeking to take Lightfoot's life, and Lightfoot
seeking to save it. The experience of other years had taught Lightfoot
much of the ways of hunters and not one of the things he had learned
about them was forgotten. But the hunter in his turn knew much of the
ways of Deer. So it was that each was trying his best to outguess the
other.
When the hunter found the hiding-place Lightfoot had left at the
warning of Sammy Jay he followed Lightfoot's tracks for a short
distance. It was slow work, and only one whose eyes had been trained
to notice little things could have done it. You see, there was no snow,
and only now and then, when he had stepped on a bit of soft ground,
had Lightfoot left a footprint. But there were other signs which the
hunter knew how to read,--a freshly upturned leaf here, and here, a bit
of moss lightly crushed. These things told the hunter which way
Lightfoot had gone.
Slowly, patiently, watchfully, the hunter followed. After a while he
stopped with a satisfied grin. "I thought as much," he muttered. "He
heard that pesky Jay and circled around so as to get my scent. I'll just
cut across to my old trail and unless I am greatly mistaken, I'll find his

tracks there."
So, swiftly but silently, the hunter cut across to his old trail, and in a
few moments he found just what he expected,--one of Lightfoot's
footprints. Once more he grinned.
"Well, old fellow, I've out-guessed you this time," said he to himself. "I
am behind you and the wind is from you to me, so that you cannot get
my scent. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if you're back right where you
started from, behind that old windfall." He at once began to move
forward silently and cautiously, with eyes and ears alert and his terrible
gun ready for instant use.
Now when Lightfoot, following behind the hunter, had lost the scent of
the latter, he guessed right away that the latter had found his tracks and
had started to follow them. Lightfoot stood still and listened with all his
might for some little sound to tell him where the hunter was. But there
was no sound and after a little Lightfoot began to move on. He didn't
dare remain still, lest the hunter should creep up within shooting
distance. There was only one direction in which it was safe for
Lightfoot to move, and that was the direction from which the Merry
Little Breezes were blowing. So long as they brought him none of the
dreaded man-smell, he knew that he was safe. The hunter might be
behind him--probably he was--but ahead of him, so long as the Merry
Little Breezes were blowing in his face and brought no man-smell, was
safety.
CHAPTER IX
LIGHTFOOT BECOMES UNCERTAIN
Lightfoot the Deer traveled on through the Green Forest, straight ahead
in the direction from which the Merry Little Breezes were blowing.
Every few steps he would raise his delicate nose and test all the scents
that the Merry Little Breezes were bringing. So long as he