Wood Folk at School | Page 2

AT HIM" 118
"THEY WOULD TURN THEIR HEADS AND LISTEN INTENTLY"
145
"PLUNGING LIKE A GREAT ENGINE THROUGH UNDERBRUSH
AND OVER WINDFALLS" 152
"A MIGHTY SPRING OF HIS CROUCHING HAUNCHES
FINISHED THE WORK" 183

What the Fawns Must Know
[Illustration]
To this day it is hard to understand how any eyes could have found
them, they were so perfectly hidden. I was following a little brook,
which led me by its singing to a deep dingle in the very heart of the big
woods. A great fallen tree lay across my path and made a bridge over
the stream. Now, bridges are for crossing; that is plain to even the least
of the wood folk; so I sat down on the mossy trunk to see who my
neighbors might be, and what little feet were passing on the King's
highway.
Here, beside me, are claw marks in the moldy bark. Only a bear could
leave that deep, strong imprint. And see! there is where the moss
slipped and broke beneath his weight. A restless tramp is Mooween,
who scatters his records over forty miles of hillside on a summer day,
when his lazy mood happens to leave him for a season. Here, on the

other side, are the bronze-green petals of a spruce cone, chips from a
squirrel's workshop, scattered as if Meeko had brushed them hastily
from his yellow apron when he rushed out to see Mooween as he
passed. There, beyond, is a mink sign, plain as daylight, where
Cheokhes sat down a little while after his breakfast of frogs. And here,
clinging to a stub, touching my elbow as I sit with heels dangling idly
over the lazy brook, is a crinkly yellow hair, which tells me that
Eleemos the Sly One, as Simmo calls him, hates to wet his feet and so
uses a fallen tree or a stone in the brook for a bridge, like his brother
fox of the settlements.
Just in front of me was another fallen tree, lying alongside the stream in
such a way that no animal more dangerous than a roving mink would
ever think of using it. Under its roots, away from the brook, was a
hidden and roomy little house with hemlock tips drooping over its
doorway for a curtain. "A pretty place for a den," I thought; "for no one
could ever find you there." Then, as if to contradict me, a stray
sunbeam found the spot and sent curious bright glintings of sheen and
shadow dancing and playing under the fallen roots and trunk.
"Beautiful!" I cried, as the light fell on the brown mold and flecked it
with white and yellow. The sunbeam went away again, but seemed to
leave its brightness behind it; for there were still the gold-brown mold
under the roots and the flecks of white and yellow. I stooped down to
see it better; I reached in my hand--then the brown mold changed
suddenly to softest fur; the glintings of white and yellow were the
dappled sides of two little fawns, lying there very still and frightened,
just where their mother had hidden them when she went away.
They were but a few days old when I found them. Each had on his little
Joseph's coat; and each, I think, must have had also a magic cloak
somewhere about him; for he had only to lie down anywhere to become
invisible. The curious markings, like the play of light and shadow
through the leaves, hid the little owners perfectly so long as they held
themselves still and let the sunbeams dance over them. Their beautiful
heads were a study for an artist,--delicate, graceful, exquisitely colored.
And their great soft eyes had a questioning innocence, as they met
yours, which went straight to your heart and made you claim the

beautiful creatures for your own instantly. Indeed, there is nothing in
all the woods that so takes your heart by storm as the face of a little
fawn.
They were timid at first, lying close without motion of any kind. The
instinct of obedience--the first and strongest instinct of every creature
born into this world--kept them loyal to the mother's command to stay
where they were and be still till she came back. So even after the
hemlock curtain was brushed aside, and my eyes saw and my hand
touched them, they kept their heads flat to the ground and pretended
that they were only parts of the brown forest floor, and that the spots on
their bright coats were but flecks of summer sunshine.
I felt then that I was an intruder; that I ought to go straight away and
leave them; but the little things were too beautiful, lying there in their
wonderful old den, with fear and wonder and questionings