CHAPTER IV.--THE ROUND-UP.
Once back in the good green woods, both Fleet Foot and the fawns caperedjoyously.
It was good just to be alive.
Up and down through the forest trails they galloped,--down to Lone Lake,then back to Pollywog Pond and along the familiar trails on the slopesof Mt. Olaf. Summer was even riper and lovelier than when they had beentaken to the Valley Farm,--and to the fawns, remember, it was theirfirst taste of mid-summer in the Maine woods.
These tiny fellows leaped and gamboled hide-and-seek, till you wouldhave thought they would have broken their fragile legs among theboulders and fallen tree-trunks. But their mother knew her training hadbeen thorough, and they would know just how to leap and land withsafety.
"Hello, there!--Chick-a-dee-dee, Chick-a-dee-dee," a little gray bird ina black cap kept calling, as he followed from tree to tree.
When at last they had had their dinner of warm milk, and Fleet Foot hadcropped her fill of the tender green things that lay like a banquettable everywhere about them, she led them to a little rocky ledge thatover-looked Lone Lake, where they could lie under the partial shade of aclump of yellow birch trees and rest, while she chewed her cud. Theblack fly season was well past, and there was nothing to disturb themsave a passing swarm of midges that couldn't begin to bite through theirthick fur.
(They little dreamed that Frisky, the Red Fox Pup, was peering down onthem from a higher crag, where he, too, crouched on the red-brown soilthat proved such a perfect cam-ou-flage.)
No one save a fox could have seen the fawns, so long as they lay still,their tawny orange-brown coats blended so perfectly with the ground. Andif anyone had noticed the white spots on their sides, he would havetaken them for a glint of the creamy birch-bark.
At first the 'two youngsters watched a yellow-jacketed bumble-bee, whobumbled and tumbled among the perfumed spikes of the Solomon's seals.Then their ears pricked to a new voice.
"Greetings, my friends!" called a cheery red-brown coated bird who hadbeen rustling about among the dead leaves just behind them.
He was as large as a robin, with even longer beak and tail, and hiscreamy breast was streaked with darker brown.
"Hello, Thrush," bleated the fawns in shy friendliness.
"You mustn't look for any nest in the bushes around here, because youwon't find it," twittered Thrush, in a tone Old Man Red Fox would havebeen suspicious of. "Listen! I am going to give you a concert!" And heflew to the birch tree over their heads.
There followed a program of the most varied trills and whistles thefawns had ever heard; and though his voice was not so sweet toned assome of the tinier birds', his throaty trills and liquid, low-pitchedchirps and whistles were just as delightful as they could be.
There were bird calls all around them, "Pee-wees" and "Chip-chip-chips"and "Wee-wee-wee-wees" and all sorts of soft little calls and answers.
They none of them minded the fawns in the least, except those who hadnests on the ground. They always watched nervously when the friskyfellows capered too near, with their sharp little hoofs, though theyknew the fawns wouldn't hurt an ant if they knew it.
Every now and again the singers would cease, when one of the softpatches of white cloud got in front of the sun; for instantly the airgrew chilly, and a breeze started all the tree-tops to waving till thebirds had to hang on hard.
Then the Lake would ruffle into tiny wave-lets and grow dark green likethe woods along the shore-line. For before, the water had lain as stillas a silver mirror, reflecting the pale blue of the warm sky.
In weather like this, it was good just to lie still and watch andlisten, or drowse off with the sun warm on one's fur and the spicy earthsmells in one's nostrils. The green world was so interesting.
When a passing cloud of a darker gray brought the big drops patteringabout them for a few minutes, they merely scampered under anover-hanging boulder, where they huddled together on a drift of leaves,and watched it all.
Later, when the bull-frogs began their "Ke-dunk, ke-dunk," down underthe banks of Lone Lake, where the ducks were feeding their nestlings,and the sun began to send long red beams slanting through thetree-trunks, Fleet Foot led them down to a shallow cove for a taste oflily pads, and they waded in and tried a nibble of everything shetasted.
After that came a night under a drooping pine tree, whose lowest branchroofed over a boulder in the most inviting way, and the wind dronedthrough the branches and blew the mosquitoes all away, and they laysnuggled warmly together on the fragrant needles, and watched the starscome out.
In the morning they were just starting out on an exploring tour whenthey were alarmed by the baying of a hound.
Now Lop Ear had always had an important duty at the Valley Farm. It hadbeen his part to round up the cows when night came, or when any of themwent astray in the woods. And all day yesterday he had missed Fleet Footfrom her stall in the hay-barn.
True, she had always seemed different from the regular cows. Until shecame there with her broken leg, he had always supposed she belonged inthe woods. But surely, surely the Farmer would not have kept her thereunless she belonged there, reasoned the, faithful dog. And now she wasgone!
There was but one thing to do: he must go in search of her and bring herhome.
All that day he tried in vain to find her trail. The next morning he wasup with the sun. This time he would search farther afield. "Wow!Bow-wow! Wow-wow-wow!" Here was a footprint, unless his nose deceivedhim! What's more, they had passed that way not ten minutes since! It wasbut a matter of following the trail, and he would be nipping at theirheels and driving them back to the Farm.
"Wow-wow-wow!" he bayed; and Frisky, the Red Fox Pup, heard and cametrotting to peek at him and see what it was all about.
The sound filled the fawns with uneasiness. They had always been afraidof Lop Ear, with his nipping and yapping around the cattle.
"Children," bade Fleet Foot sternly, "hurry to that clump of bracken andlie down. Stretch your heads and fore legs out straight in front of youand lie there as flat as you can make yourselves,--while I lead thishound off somewhere where he'll lose your scent."
The fawns obeyed instantly.
Fleet Foot then doubled back on her trail, and with a stamp and a snortto call the hound's attention, she soon had him following her greatbounds in quite the opposite direction. She kept just far enough aheadof him to make sure he wouldn't give up the chase--though she couldeasily have out-distanced him.
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