Wood Folk at School | Page 7

that had evidently been
watching me all the time from his hiding sprang into sight with a sharp
whistle of warning. The doe threw up her head, looking straight at me
as if she had understood more from the signal than I had thought
possible. There was not an instant's hesitation or searching. Her eyes
went direct to me, as if the fawn's cry had said: "Behind you, mother, in
the path by the second gray rock!" Then she jumped away, shooting up
the opposite hill over roots and rocks as if thrown by steel springs,
blowing hoarsely at every jump, and followed in splendid style by her
watchful little one.
At the first snort of danger there was a rush in the underbrush near
where she had stood, and a second fawn sprang into sight. I knew him
instantly--the heedless one--and knew also that he had neglected too
long the matter of following the flag. He was confused, frightened,
chuckle-headed now; he came darting up the deer path in the wrong
direction, straight towards me, to within two jumps, before he noticed
the man kneeling in the path before him and watching him quietly.
At the startling discovery he stopped short, seeming to shrink smaller
and smaller before my eyes. Then he edged sidewise to a great stump,
hid himself among the roots, and stood stock-still,--a beautiful picture
of innocence and curiosity, framed in the rough brown roots of the
spruce stump. It was his first teaching, to hide and be still. Just as he
needed it most, he had forgotten absolutely the second lesson.
We watched each other full five minutes without moving an eyelash.
Then his first lesson ebbed away. He sidled out into the path again,
came towards me two dainty, halting steps, and stamped prettily with

his left fore foot. He was a young buck, and had that trick of stamping
without any instruction. It is an old, old ruse to make you move, to
startle you by the sound and threatening motion into showing who you
are and what are your intentions.
But still the man did not move; the fawn grew frightened at his own
boldness and ran away down the path. Far up the opposite hill I heard
the mother calling him. But he heeded not; he wanted to find out things
for himself. There he was in the path again, watching me. I took out my
handkerchief and waved it gently; at which great marvel he trotted back,
stopping anon to look and stamp his little foot, to show me that he was
not afraid.
"Brave little chap, I like you," I thought, my heart going out to him as
he stood there with his soft eyes and beautiful face, stamping his little
foot. "But what," my thoughts went on, "had happened to you ere now,
had a bear or lucivee lifted his head over the ridge? Next month, alas!
the law will be off; then there will be hunters in these woods, some of
whom leave their hearts, with their wives and children, behind them.
You can't trust them, believe me, little chap. Your mother is right; you
can't trust them."
The night was coming swiftly. The mother's call, growing ever more
anxious, more insistent, swept over the darkening hillside. "Perhaps," I
thought, with sudden twinges and alarms of conscience, "perhaps I set
you all wrong, little chap, in giving you the taste of salt that day, and
teaching you to trust things that meet you in the wilderness." That is
generally the way when we meddle with Mother Nature, who has her
own good reasons for doing things as she does. "But no! there were two
of you under the old log that day; and the other,--he's up there with his
mother now, where you ought to be,--he knows that old laws are safer
than new thoughts, especially new thoughts in the heads of foolish
youngsters. You are all wrong, little chap, for all your pretty curiosity,
and the stamp of your little foot that quite wins my heart. Perhaps I am
to blame, after all; anyway, I'll teach you better now."
At the thought I picked up a large stone and sent it crashing, jumping,
tearing down the hillside straight at him. All his bravado vanished like

a wink. Up went his flag, and away he went over the logs and rocks of
the great hillside; where presently I heard his mother running in a great
circle till she found him with her nose, thanks to the wood wires and
the wind's message, and led him away out of danger.
One who lives for a few weeks in the wilderness, with eyes and ears
open, soon finds that, instead of the lawlessness and blind chance
which seem to hold sway