Books: Lightfoot the Deer
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Thornton W. Burgess >> Lightfoot the Deer
CHAPTER IV: The Spirit Of Fear
When the days grow cold and the nights are clear,
There stalks abroad the spirit of fear.
- Lightfoot the Deer.
It is sad but true. Autumn is often called the sad time of the
year, and it is the sad time. But it shouldn't be. Old Mother
Nature never intended that it should be. She meant it to be the
GLAD time. It is the time when all the little people of the
Green Forest and the Green Meadows have got over the cares and
worries of bringing up families and teaching their children how
to look out for themselves. It is the season when food is
plentiful, and every one is fat and is, or ought to be, care
free. It is the season when Old Mother Nature intended all her
little people to be happy, to have nothing to worry them for the
little time before the coming of cold weather and the hard times
which cold weather always brings.
But instead of this, a grim, dark figure goes stalking over the
Green Meadows and through the Green Forest, and it is called the
Spirit of Fear. It peers into every hiding-place and wherever it
finds one of the little people it sends little cold chills over
him, little chills which jolly, round, bright Mr. Sun cannot
chase away, though he shine his brightest. All night as well as
all day the Spirit of Fear searches out the little people of the
Green Meadows and the Green Forest. It will not let them sleep.
It will not let them eat in peace. It drives them to seek
new hiding-places and then drives them out of those. It keeps
them ever ready to fly or run at the slightest sound.
Peter Rabbit was thinking of this as he sat at the edge of the
dear Old Briar-patch, looking over to the Green Forest. The Green
Forest was no longer just green; it was of many colors, for Old
Mother Nature had set Jack Frost to painting the leaves of the
maple-trees and the beech-trees, and the birch-trees and the
poplar-trees and the chestnut-trees, and he had done his work well.
Very, very lovely were the reds and yellows and browns against
the dark green of the pines and the spruces and the hemlocks.
The Purple Hills were more softly purple than at any
other season of the year. It was all very, very beautiful.
But Peter had no thought for the beauty of it all, for the Spirit
of Fear had visited even the dear Old Briar-patch, and Peter was
afraid. It wasn't fear of Reddy Fox, or Redtail the Hawk, or
Hooty the Owl, or Old Man Coyote. They were forever trying to
catch him, but they did not strike terror to his heart because he
felt quite smart enough to keep out of their clutches. To be
sure, they gave him sudden frights sometimes, when they happened
to surprise him, but these frights lasted only until he reached
the nearest bramble-tangle or hollow log where they could not get
at him. But the fear that chilled his heart now never left him
even for a moment.
And Peter knew that this same fear was clutching at the hearts of
Bob White, hiding in the brown stubble; of Mrs. Grouse, squatting
in the thickest bramble-tangle in the Green Forest; of Uncle
Billy Possum and Bobby Coon in their hollow trees; of Jerry
Muskrat in the Smiling Pool; of Happy Jack Squirrel, hiding in
the tree tops; of Lightfoot the Deer, lying in the closest
thicket he could find. It was even clutching at the hearts of
Granny and Reddy Fox and of great, big Buster Bear. It seemed to
Peter that no one was so big or so small that this terrible
Spirit of Fear had not searched him out.
Far in the distance sounded a sudden bang. Peter jumped and
shivered. He knew that every one else who had heard that bang
had jumped and shivered just as he had. It was the season of
hunters with terrible guns. It was man who had sent this
terrible Spirit of Fear to chill the hearts of the little meadow
and forest people at this very time when Old Mother Nature had
made all things so beautiful and had intended that they should
be happiest and most free from care and worry. It was man who
had made the autumn a sad time instead of a glad time, the very
saddest time of all the year, when Old Mother Nature had done
her best to make it the most beautiful.
"I don't understand these men creatures," said Peter to little
Mrs. Peter, as they stared fearfully out from the dear Old
Briar-patch. "They seem to find pleasure, actually find pleasure,
in trying to kill us. I don't understand them at all. They
haven't any hearts. That must be the reason; they haven't any
hearts."
CHAPTER V: Sammy Jay Brings Lightfoot Word
Sammy Jay is one of those who believe in the wisdom of the old
saying, "Early to bed and early to rise." Sammy needs no alarm
clock to get up early in the morning. He is awake as soon as it
is light enough to see and wastes no time wishing he could sleep
a little longer. His stomach wouldn't let him if he wanted
to. Sammy always wakes up hungry. In this he is no different
from all his feathered neighbors.
So the minute Sammy gets his eyes open he makes his toilet, for
Sammy is very neat, and starts out to hunt for his breakfast.
Long ago Sammy discovered that there is no safer time of day to
visit the dooryards of those two-legged creatures called men than
very early in the morning. On this particular morning he had
planned to fly over to Farmer Brown's dooryard, but at the last
minute he changed his mind. Instead, he flew over to the
dooryard of another farm. It was so very early in the morning
that Sammy didn't expect to find anybody stirring, so you can
guess how surprised he was when, just as he came in sight of that
dooryard, he saw the door of the house open and a man step out.
Sammy stopped on the top of the nearest tree. "Now what is that
man doing up as early as this?" muttered Sammy. Then he caught
sight of something under the man's arm. He didn't have to look
twice to know what it was. It was a gun! Yes, sir, it was a gun,
a terrible gun.
"Ha!" exclaimed Sammy, and quite forgot that his stomach was
empty. "Now who can that fellow be after so early in the morning?
I wonder if he is going to the dear Old Briar-patch to look for
Peter Rabbit, or if he is going to the Old Pasture in search of
Reddy Fox, or if it is Mr. and Mrs. Grouse he hopes to kill.
I think I'll sit right here and watch."
So Sammy sat in the top of the tree and watched the hunter with
the terrible gun. He saw him head straight for the Green Forest.
"It's Mr. and Mrs. Grouse after all, I guess," thought Sammy.
"If I knew just where they were I'd go over and warn them."
But Sammy didn't know just where they were and he knew that it
might take him a long time to find them, so he once more began to
think of breakfast and then, right then, another thought popped
into his head. He thought of Lightfoot the Deer.
Sammy watched the hunter enter the Green Forest, then he silently
followed him. From the way the hunter moved, Sammy decided that
he wasn't thinking of Mr. and Mrs. Grouse. "It's Lightfoot the
Deer, sure as I live," muttered Sammy. "He ought to be warned.
He certainly ought to be warned. I know right where he is.
I believe I'll warn him myself."
Sammy found Lightfoot right where he had expected to. "He's
coming!" cried Sammy. "A hunter with a terrible gun is coming!"
CHAPTER VI: A Game Of Hide And Seek
There was a game of hide and seek that Danny Meadow Mouse once
played with Buster Bear. It was a very dreadful game for Danny.
But hard as it was for Danny, it didn't begin to be as hard
as the game Lightfoot the Deer was playing with the hunter
in the Green Forest.
In the case of Buster Bear and Danny, the latter had simply to
keep out of reach of Buster. As long as Buster didn't get his
great paws on Danny, the latter was safe. Then, too, Danny is a
very small person. He is so small that he can hide under two or
three leaves. Wherever he is, he is pretty sure to find a
hiding-place of some sort. His small size gives him advantages in
a game of hide and seek. It certainly does. But Lightfoot the
Deer is big. He is one of the largest of the people who live in
the Green Forest. Being so big, it is not easy to hide.
Moreover, a hunter with a terrible gun does not have to get close
in order to kill. Lightfoot knew all this as he waited for the
coming of the hunter of whom Sammy Jay had warned him. He had
learned many lessons in the hunting season of the year before and
he remembered every one of them. He knew that to forget even one
of them might cost him his life. So, standing motionless behind a
tangle of fallen trees, Lightfoot listened and watched.
Presently over in the distance he heard Sammy Jay screaming,
"Thief, thief, thief!" A little sigh of relief escaped
Lightfoot. He knew that that screaming of Sammy Jay's was a
warning to tell him where the hunter was. Knowing just where the
hunter was made it easier for Lightfoot to know what to do.
A Merry Little Breeze came stealing through the Green Forest.
It came from behind Lightfoot and danced on towards the hunter with
the terrible gun. Instantly Lightfoot began to steal softly away
through the Green Forest. He took the greatest care to make no
sound. He went in a half-circle, stopping every few steps to
listen and test the air with his wonderful nose. Can you guess
what Lightfoot was trying to do? He was trying to get behind the
hunter so that the Merry Little Breezes would bring to him the
dreaded man-scent. So long as Lightfoot could get that scent, he
would know where the hunter was, though he could neither see nor
hear him. If he had remained where Sammy Jay had found him, the
hunter might have come within shooting distance before Lightfoot
could have located him.
So the hunter with the terrible gun walked noiselessly through
the Green Forest, stepping with the greatest care to avoid
snapping a stick underfoot, searching with keen eye every thicket
and likely hiding-place for a glimpse of Lightfoot, and studying
the ground for traces to show that Lightfoot had been there.
CHAPTER VII: The Merry Little Breezes Help Lightfoot
Could you have seen the hunter with the terrible gun and
Lightfoot the Deer that morning on which the hunting season
opened you might have thought that Lightfoot was hunting the
hunter instead of the hunter hunting Lightfoot. You see,
Lightfoot was behind the hunter instead of in front of him.
He was following the hunter, so as to keep track of him.
As long as he knew just where the hunter was, he felt
reasonably safe.
The Merry Little Breezes are Lightfoot's best friends. They
always bring to him all the different scents they find as they
wander through the Green Forest. And Lightfoot's delicate nose
is so wonderful that he can take these scents, even though they
be very faint, and tell just who or what has made them. So,
though he makes the best possible use of his big ears and his
beautiful eyes, he trusts more to his nose to warn him of danger.
For this reason, during the hunting season when he moves about,
he moves in the direction from which the Merry Little Breezes may
be blowing. He knows that they will bring to him warning of any
danger which may lie in that direction.
Now the hunter with the terrible gun who was looking for
Lightfoot knew all this, for he was wise in the ways of Lightfoot
and of the other little people of the 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 outguessed 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 kept the Merry Little Breezes blowing in his face,
he could be sure whether or not there was danger ahead of him.
Lightfoot uses his nose very much as you and I use our eyes. It
tells him the things he wants to know. He knew that Reddy Fox had
been along ahead of him, although he didn't get so much as a
glimpse of Reddy's red coat. Once he caught just the faintest of
scents which caused him to stop abruptly and test the air more
carefully than ever. It was the scent of Buster Bear. But it
was so very faint that Lightfoot knew Buster was not near, so he
went ahead again, but even more carefully than before. After a
little he couldn't smell Buster at all, so he knew then that
Buster had merely passed that way when he was going to some other
part of the Green Forest.
Lightfoot knew that he had nothing to fear in that direction so
long as the Merry Little Breezes brought him none of the dreaded
man-scent, and he knew that he could trust the Merry Little
Breezes to bring him that scent if there should be a man
anywhere in front of him. You know the Merry Little Breezes are
Lightfoot's best friends. But Lightfoot didn't want to keep
going in that direction all day.
It would take him far away from that part of the Green Forest
with which he was familiar and which he called home. It might in
time take him out of the Green Forest and that wouldn't do at
all. So after a while Lightfoot became uncertain. He didn't know
just what to do. You see, he couldn't tell whether or not that
hunter with the terrible gun was still following him.
Every once in a while he would stop in a thicket of young trees
or behind a tangle of fallen trees uprooted by the wind. There
he would stand, facing the direction from which he had come, and
watch and listen for some sign that the hunter was still
following. But after a few minutes of this he would grow uneasy
and then bound away in the direction from which the Merry Little
Breezes were blowing, so as to be sure of not running into danger.
"If only I could know if that hunter is still following, I would
know better what to do," thought Lightfoot. "I've got to find out."
CHAPTER X: Lightfoot's Clever Trick
Lightfoot the Deer is smart. Yes, Sir, Lightfoot the Deer is
smart. He has to be, especially in the hunting season, to save
his life. If he were not smart he would have been killed long
ago. He never makes the foolish mistake of thinking that other
people are not smart. He knew that the hunter who had started out
to follow him early that morning was not one to be easily
discouraged or to be fooled by simple tricks. He had a very great
respect for the smartness of that hunter. He knew that he
couldn't afford to be careless for one little minute.
The certainty of danger is sometimes easier to bear than the
uncertainty of not knowing whether or not there really is any
danger. Lightfoot felt that if he could know just where the
hunter was, he himself would know better what to do. The
hunter might have become discouraged and given up following him.
In that case he could rest and stop worrying. It would be better
to know that he was being followed than not to know. But how was
he to find out? Lightfoot kept turning this over and over in his
mind as he traveled through the Green Forest. Then an idea came
to him.
"I know what I'll do. I know just what I'll do," said Lightfoot
to himself. "I'll find out whether or not that hunter is still
following me and I'll get a little rest. Goodness knows, I need
a rest."
Lightfoot bounded away swiftly and ran for some distance, then he
turned and quickly, but very, very quietly, returned in the
direction from which he had just come but a little to one side of
his old trail. After a while he saw what he was looking for, a
pile of branches which woodchoppers had left when they had
trimmed the trees they had cut down. This was near the top of a
little hill. Lightfoot went up the hill and stopped behind the
pile of brush. For a few moments he stood there perfectly still,
looking and listening. Then, with a little sigh of relief, he lay
down, where, without being in any danger of being seen himself,
he could watch his old trail through the hollow at the bottom of
the hill. If the hunter were still following him, he would pass
through that hollow in plain sight.
For a long tune Lightfoot rested comfortably behind the pile of
brush. There was not a suspicious movement or a suspicious sound
to show that danger was abroad in the Green Forest. He saw
Mr. and Mrs. Grouse fly down across the hollow and disappear
among the trees on the other side. He saw Unc' Billy Possum
looking over a hollow tree and guessed that Unc' Billy was
getting ready to go into winter quarters. He saw Jumper the Hare
squat down under a low-hanging branch of a hemlock-tree and
prepare to take a nap. He heard Drummer the Woodpecker at work
drilling after worms in a tree not far away. Little by little
Lightfoot grew easy in his mind. It must be that that hunter had
become discouraged and was no longer following him.
CHAPTER XI: The Hunted Watches The Hunter
It was so quiet and peaceful and altogether lovely there in the
Green Forest, where Lightfoot the Deer lay resting behind a pile
of brush near the top of a little hill, that it didn't seem
possible such a thing as sudden death could be anywhere near.
It didn't seem possible that there could be any need for
watchfulness. But Lightfoot long ago had learned that often
danger is nearest when it seems least to be expected. So,
though he would have liked very much to have taken a nap,
Lightfoot was too wise to do anything so foolish. He kept his
beautiful, great, soft eyes fixed in the direction from which
the hunter with the terrible gun would come if he were still
following that trail. He kept his great ears gently moving to
catch every little sound.
Lightfoot had about decided that the hunter had given up hunting
for that day, but he didn't let this keep him from being any the
less watchful. It was better to be overwatchful than the least
bit careless. By and by, Lightfoot's keen ears caught the sound
of the snapping of a little stick in the distance. It was so
faint a sound that you or I would have missed it altogether.
But Lightfoot heard it and instantly he was doubly alert,
watching in the direction from which that faint sound had come.
After what seemed a long, long time he saw something moving, and
a moment later a man came into view. It was the hunter and across
one arm he carried the terrible gun.
Lightfoot knew now that this hunter had patience and perseverance
and had not yet given up hope of getting near enough to shoot
Lightfoot. He moved forward slowly, setting each foot down with
the greatest care, so as not to snap a stick or rustle the
leaves. He was watching sharply ahead, ready to shoot should he
catch a glimpse of Lightfoot within range.
Right along through the hollow at the foot of the little hill
below Lightfoot the hunter passed. He was no longer studying the
ground for Lightfoot's tracks, because the ground was so hard and
dry down there that Lightfoot had left no tracks. He was simply
hunting in the direction from which the Merry Little Breezes were
blowing because he knew that Lightfoot had gone in that direction,
and he also knew that if Lightfoot were still ahead of him,
his scent could not be carried to Lightfoot. He was doing
what is called "hunting up-wind."
Lightfoot kept perfectly still and watched the hunter disappear
among the trees. Then he silently got to his feet, shook himself
lightly, and noiselessly stole away over the hilltop towards
another part of the Green Forest. He felt sure that that hunter
would not find him again that day.
CHAPTER XII: Lightfoot Visits Paddy The Beaver
Deep in the Green Forest is the pond where lives Paddy the
Beaver. It is Paddy's own pond, for he made it himself. He made
it by building a dam across the Laughing Brook. When Lightfoot
bounded away through the Green Forest, after watching the hunter
pass through the hollow below him, he remembered Paddy's pond.
"That's where I'll go," thought Lightfoot. "It is such a
lonesome part of the Green Forest that I do not believe that
hunter will come there. I'll just run over and make Paddy a
friendly call."
So Lightfoot bounded along deeper and deeper into the Green
Forest. Presently through the trees he caught the gleam of water.
It was Paddy's pond. Lightfoot approached it cautiously.
He felt sure he was rid of the hunter who had followed him so
far that day, but he knew that there might be other hunters in the
Green Forest. He knew that he couldn't afford to be careless for
even one little minute. Lightfoot had lived long enough to know
that most of the sad things and dreadful things that happen in
the Green Forest and on the Green Meadows are due to carelessness.
No one who is hunted, be he big or little, can afford ever to
be careless.
Now Lightfoot had known of hunters hiding near water, hoping to
shoot him when he came to drink. That always seemed to Lightfoot
a dreadful thing, an unfair thing. But hunters had done it
before and they might do it again. So Lightfoot was careful to
approach Paddy's pond upwind. That is, he approached the side of
the pond from which the Merry Little Breezes were blowing toward
him, and all the time he kept his nose working. He knew that if
any hunters were hidden there, the Merry Little Breezes would
bring him their scent and thus warn him.