CHAPTER VI
After this they were left in peace for a short time, but week afterweek the hounds came to Dunkery or to the forest, and though the Deerwere not always obliged to run their hardest, yet it was seldom thatthey had not to fly, at any rate for a time, for their lives. So aftera few weeks the Hind led the Calf back to the wood where they had madethe acquaintance of the Vixen and the Badger; and there they were leftalone. For there came a hard frost which covered the moor with whiterime, and, though it sometimes sent them far afield for food, stillsaved them from annoyance by hounds. But the poor Blackbirds andThrushes suffered much, for they were weak for want of food; and oftenthe Calf would see them in the hedges crawling over the dead leaves,unable to fly. And then the old Vixen would come round (for she wasstill there, though all her Cubs were scattered), and pick up thepoor struggling little birds, and make what meal she could of them,though there was little left of them but skin and bone; for she toowas ravenous with hunger.
But at last the frost broke up and the warm rain came, and the daysgrew longer, and the sun gathered strength. So after a time they beganto wander over the skirt of the moor again, and thus one day they sawa curious sight. For in the midst of the heather stood a number ofGreyhens, looking very sober, and modest and respectable, and roundthem, in a ring worn bare by the trampling of their feet, a number ofBlackcocks were dancing like mad creatures, with their beautifulplumage fluffed out and their wings half spread, to show what handsomefellows they were. While they watched them one splendid old Cock camewaltzing slowly round, with his feathers all gleaming in the chillsunshine, and all the time looking out of the corner of his eye at oneof the Hens. And as generally happens when people look one way and goanother, particularly if they chance to be waltzing, he ran fullagainst another Cock, who was just in front of him, and nearly knockedhim over. Whereupon he asked the other Cock very angrily, "Now then,where be coming to?"
But the other answered quite as angrily: "If you come knacking agin meagain like that, you old dumphead, I'll spoil your plumes for 'ee, Iwill."
Then the old bird shook out all his feathers in a towering passion,and said: "_You_ spoil my plumes, you little, miser'ble,dirty-jacketed roog! You spoil my plumes! If you dare to come anighme, I'll give 'ee such a dressing as you won't get over this sidemidsummer. I'll teach 'ee to call me dumphead!"
But the other was quite as quarrelsome, and answered very rudely: "Yougive me a dressing? I'd like to see 'ee try it. Git out of the way,and don't come here telling of your dressings. I bean't afeard to call'ee dumphead. Now then, dumphead, dumphead, dumphead!"
And with that they flew at each other, and pecked and scratched andruffled, and beat each other with their wings, till all the ground wascovered with their feathers. And all the time the Greyhens keptwhispering to each other, "He's down--no, he's up--no, he's downagain. He's too strong for mun. Dear, dear, but the old bird'ssarving mun bad!" And so he was, for after a hard fight the old Cockcame back breathless and crowed with triumph, screaming, "Now, then,who's the better bird?"
And the Greyhens answered in chorus: "Why, you be, my dear. Ah! you'ma rare bird, sure enough. Get your breath, my dear, for 'tis sweetlypretty to see 'ee dance."
So the Deer left them dancing and fighting, and making their way overthe moor again to Dunkery, went down into Horner Wood. And they foundthe wood quiet and peaceful as if no hound had ever been near it; andabove their heads the oak-buds were swelled and ripe almost tobursting, while under their feet was a carpet of glossy green andblue, picked out with stars of pale yellow, for the bluebells andprimroses had thrust their heads through the dead leaves to welcomethe spring. The gorse, too, was flaming with yellow blossom, thethorns were gay in their new green leaves, and the bracken wasthrusting up its green coils, impatient to uncurl and make a shelterfor the deer.
They rarely saw an old stag, though they met a young one or two, andthey did not even see many hinds, though they frequently met andtalked to Ruddy. And the Calf now became better friends than ever withRuddy's daughter, for, having both of them seen a great deal of theworld after a life of one whole year, they had plenty to talk about.One day she told him, as a great secret, that her mother had promisedher a little brother before many months should be past; but all thathe did was to make her promise that she would still like him best. Andthe truth is that he began to think himself rather too fine a fellowto be interested in calves when there were older male deer toassociate with. For as soon as the ash began to sprout, all the maledeer in Horner formed clubs to go and eat the young shoots, for thereis nothing that they love so much to eat; and he of course went amongthem and nibbled away as greedily as any, though not being the biggestdeer he did not of course get the biggest share.
Besides, not long after the ash was in leaf, he began to feel rather apain in his head; and although a headache is not generally a pleasantthing, yet this was so slight and at the same time so interesting,that he did not much mind it. For on each side of the crown of hishead there appeared a little swelling, very hot and tender, whichgrew into a little knob of black velvet, and which he thought veryhandsome, though you and I perhaps might not think so. But he was soproud of it that he always looked at it in the water, when he wentdown to drink of an evening, to see how it was growing. And the bestof it was, that not one of the big stags now had much more on theirheads than he had, for they had lost their horns, and were lookingvery foolish with their great necks and manes and nothing to carry onthem. He saw the big stags so very seldom now that he could hardlyfind an opportunity of asking them what had happened; and when at lasthe got a chance of putting the question to a huge old fellow, whom hecame upon one day with his mouth full of ivy, he was in such a hurrythat I am afraid he must have seemed inquisitive. For the old Stagstared at him for a minute with the ivy sticking out of his lips, andthen said very gruffly, "Go away, and mind your own business. Littlecalves should be seen and not heard." And our Deer was so much vexedat being called a little Calf, whereas he was really a Pricket, thathe slunk away down to the water to have a look at his velvet; but itwas getting on so beautifully that he felt quite comforted, and wasglad that, although the Stag had been so unkind, he had not said,"You're another," or something rude and disrespectful of that kind,which would have been most unbecoming in a Red-Deer.
A few days later the matter was partly explained to him. For early onemorning when he was out at feed in a growing corn-field with a numberof young male deer, a four-year-old came galloping up the hedge troughwith a sheep-dog racing after him. The four-year-old was in such aflurry that he jumped the fence at the corner of the field withoutnoticing an overhanging branch, and thump! down fell both of his hornson one side of the hedge, while he galloped on, leaving them behindhim, on the other. The rest of the deer also went off in a hurry, youmay be sure, after such a scare, for they did not expect a sheep-dogto be out so early; and, indeed, it is quite possible that thesheep-dog had no business to be out. His mother looked very grave whenour Pricket told her about it; and that very night they set out acrossthe moor, pointing straight for the covert where they had hiddenthemselves during the last summer.
And there they found all their old friends; for the Badger had dughimself a new earth and was quite happy, and the Vixen had found hisold house so convenient that she had turned it into a nursery; and, asthey passed, three little Cubs poked their heads out of one of theholes, and winked at them like so many little vulgar boys. But on thevery day after they arrived they heard loud yapping, as of a littledog, about the earth, and crossing to the other side of the valley,they could faintly hear men's voices and the constant clink of ironagainst stones. And when night came and they ventured to come nearer,they found the old Vixen running about like one distracted, crying forher Cubs; for the earth was all harried and destroyed, and there couldbe no doubt that the men had dug the Cubs out and taken them away. Andthe wailings of the poor old Vixen were so distressing that they leftthe wood and turned up again over the moor.
Soon they began to pass
over strange ground, which rose higher andhigher before them. The little streams grew more plentiful, comingdown from every side in deep clefts which they had dug through theturf to hasten their journey to the sea; the ground beneath their feetbecame softer and softer, though it was never so ill-mannered as togive way under their light step, and the water dripped incessantlydown from the ragged edges of the turf above the clefts. But they wenton higher and higher, till at last they stood on a dreary waste ofrough grass, and miry pools, and turf-pits blanched by the whitebog-flower. For they were on the great ridge whence the rivers ofExmoor take their source and flow down on all sides to the sea; and awild treacherous tract it is. They passed a little bird no bigger thana thrush, who had his beak buried so deep in the mire that he couldnot speak; and the Hind said, "Good day, Master Snipe. Your wife andfamily are well, I hope?" Then the little bird hastily plucked a longbill out of the ground, though his mouth was so full of a big wormthat he was obliged to be silent for a minute or two; nevertheless atlast he gulped the worm down, washed his bill in a little pool ofwater, and piped out, "Very well, thank you, my lady, half-grown ormore."
"You couldn't tell me what there is over the hill?" asked the Hind.
"Not very well, not to tell your ladyship what you want to know," saidthe Snipe, "but you'll find the old Wild-duck a bit farther on andshe'll tell 'ee." And he began routling about in the mire again withhis beak.
So they lay down till evening among the turf-pits, and aftertravelling a little way farther they reached the very top of the hilland saw a new world. For before them the high land of the moor plungeddown into a tangle of smaller hills, cut up by great green banks intoinnumerable little fields, and seamed and slashed by a hundred woodedvalleys. Fifty miles before them the land rose high again and swelledup to the tors of Dartmoor, which stood stately and clear and blueagainst the sky. But on their right hand the moor seemed to leap atone bound many miles to the sea; and they saw the white line of thesurf breaking on Bideford Bar, and beyond it Lundy, firm and solid inmid-sea, and far beyond Lundy the wicked rocky snout of HartlandPoint, purple and gaunt beneath the sinking sun.
The Hind looked anxiously at the wooded valleys beneath their feet,wondering which she should take; but presently they heard a loud"Quack, quack, quack," and down she went in the direction of thesound. And there in a pool of a little stream they found an old Duck,very prim and matronly, swimming about with her brood all round her,and the Mallard with them. Whereupon of course the Hind stopped inher civil way to ask after her and her little Flappers.
"Why, bless 'ee, my lady, they'm getting 'most too big to be calledFlappers," answered the Duck, "and I shall take mun out and down theriver to see the world very soon. They do tell me that some duckstakes their broods straight to the big waters, but they must bestrange birds, and I don't hold wi' such. 'Twas my Mallard wasa-telling me. What was it you told me you saw down the river, mydear?"
But the old Mallard was shy and silent; he only mumbled out somethingthat they could not hear, and swam away apart. Then the old Duck wenton in a whisper: "You see, my lady, he's just a-beginning to changehis coat, and very soon he'll be so dingy as I be for a whole month,till his new coat cometh. Every year 'tis the same, and he can't abearit, my lady, for it makes folk think that he's a Duck and no Mallard.Not but that I think that a Duck's coat is beautiful, but a Mallard'smore beautiful yet, I can't deny that; but you know, my lady, how vainthese husbands be. But he did tell me about they ducks, and I sayagain I don't hold wi' mun. I reared my brood in the turf-pits andtaught mun to swim, and bringed them down the little streams wherethey couldn't come to no harm till they was big enough to take care oftheirselves. And I don't hold with no other way, for I'm not a-goingto have my little ducks drownded."
"And is the river quiet?" asked the Hind; "and could we live in thevalley?"
"The valley's so quiet as a turf-pit, my lady," said the old Duck,"beautiful great woods for miles down. Surely I've heard tell thatyour family lived there years agone."
So they took leave of the Ducks, and going down into the strangevalley found it as she had said. The woods ran down by the littleriver for miles; and though the valley left the moor far behind it,yet there were fields of grass, and corn, and turnips, full of goodfood whenever they might want it; so they decided to make themselvesvery comfortable there for the whole summer.