The Story of a Red Deer

by Sir J. W. Fortescue

  CHAPTER V

  And now the grass of the forest turned fast from green to yellow, theblossom faded off the heather, and the leaves of the woods turned togold and to russet and to brown, and fluttered down to the kind earthwhich had raised them up in the spring. The nights too grew chillierand chillier; but the Hind and Calf did not mind that, for their coatsonly grew the thicker and warmer to protect them. But what was farmore terrible was the hideous roaring that continued all night long inall quarters of the moor. It was some days before the Calf found outwhat it was, for his mother seemed always dreadfully frightened unlesshe were well hidden away. But once when she had left him for a shorttime snugly tucked away on a combe's side, he saw a great Stag comedown the combe driving a little herd of half a dozen Hinds before him.The Calf was astonished at the sight of him, for the Stag was quitedifferent now from any that he had seen in the summer. The glossycoat was gone, and the great round body was lean, ragged, and tuckedup, and stained with half-dried mud. His neck again was twice itsusual size and looked still bigger under its great shaggy mane; andhis face was not noble and calm, but fierce and restless and furrowedby two deep dark lines, so that altogether he was a mostdisreputable-looking old fellow.

  Presently he stopped at a little boggy spot by the water's side; andthere he reared up, and plunging his great antlers into the ground hetore it up, and sent the black mire flying over his head. Then hethrew himself down into the bog and rolled in it and wallowed in it,churning it up with horn and hoof, like a thing possessed. At last hegot up, all dripping and black, and stretching out his great neck,till the hair of his mane hung straight and lank with the black dropsrunning from it, he roared and roared again with a voice so terribleand unearthly that the Calf in his hiding-place shook with fright. Andno wonder, for I think that even you will be startled the first timethat you hear a big Stag belling.

  Very soon an answering roar came from a distance, and another Stag,as thin and fierce-looking as the first, but not quite so big, camebelling up the combe. And the great Stag left the Hinds and wentforward to meet him, looking very stately and grand. For he walked ontip-toe, loftily and slowly, with his head thrown back, and his chinhigh in air, while his eyes rolled with rage, and his breath spurtedforward in jets of steam through the cold, damp air, as he snorteddefiance. Then presently both Stags dropped their heads and made foreach other; and they fought with locked horns, shoving and strainingand struggling, backward and forward and round and round, till thesmaller Stag could fight no longer but turned and fled limping away,with the blood flowing from a deep thrust in his flank. Then the greatStag threw up his head and belled again with triumph, and huddling theHinds together once more, he drove them on before him.

  For three weeks and more this roaring and fighting continued; forDeer, you must know, put all the quarrelling of the year into a singlemonth; which sounds like a curious arrangement, but may after all bebetter than that of certain other creatures, which fight the wholeyear round. All this while the Calf's mother kept him carefully out ofthe way of stags; but none the less he had visitors. For one day alittle brown bird with a long beak came flapping rather crookedly upthe combe as if uncertain whither to go next, and then suddenly makingup her mind, came down and lighted in front of the Calf's very nose.He was a little astonished, but his mother gave the little bird herkindest glance and said:

  "Welcome back to Exmoor, Mistress Woodcock. How have you fared thisdry summer, and what passage had you over the sea?"

  And the little bird answered with somewhat of a foreign accent and inrather a sad voice, "I am safe and sound, my lady Hind, for we hadgood weather; but there were a few that started before me, and are notyet come, and I greatly fear that they were blown into the sea by astorm. And the summer was so dry that many springs failed, and manytimes I had to catch up my chicks and carry them one by one to newfeeding-grounds over the pine-forests and across the blue fiords. Ah!you think much of Exmoor, but you have never seen Norway, where yourhighest hills would be lost among our mountains, and your broadeststreams a trickle beside our rivers. We do not duck and dive there, mylady Hind; we fly high and straight, and chirp for joy in our flight,but in this grey England we have not the heart to chirp." And risingwith a _flip flap_ of her wings she flew silently and sadly away.

  At length one day the Hind said: "Son, it is time for you to see somemore of your relations." So they set out together; and as they wentthey passed by all the places which the Calf had known so well when hewas but a few weeks old. But they saw no deer, and when they lookedabout for the Greyhen they could not see her either; nor would theyhave heard anything of them, if the Hind had not bethought her ofgoing to see old Bunny. And they found her as usual sitting in frontof her bury, looking quite happy and comfortable, with her head alittle on one side.

  "Why, my lady, you'm quite a stranger," she said when they greetedher. "Lady Yeld and Lady Ruddy was axing for 'ee but two days agone,and says they, 'Tell her we'm going to Dunkery'; and that's whereyou'm going, I reckon, my lady. And Lady Ruddy's Calf is grownwonderful, and a sweet, pretty little thing she is, but not so prettyas yours, my lady. Look to mun, now, in his little brown coat, aproper little buty. 'Tis just what I was saying to the oldGreyhen--let's see, what day was it?--well, I don't rightly mind theday, but says I, 'Neighbour, her ladyship's little son--'"

  "But where is the Greyhen gone, Bunny?" said the Hind.

  "Well, I don't rightly know, my lady," answered Bunny. "She comed tome a good whiles back, and she saith, 'Neighbour, the men's been hereshooting again, and I shall go.' But it was a good whiles back; Ithink 'twas when I was rearing my fourth family,--for I have had twomore families since I seed your ladyship last, aye, and fine ones too.And I've got a new mate, my lady. You mind my Bucky, my lady, he thatwas always lying out--well, he went out one day and he never comedhome again, and I reckon the weasels catched mun. He was a good matewas the old Bucky, but he was the half of a fule--that I should sayso--wouldn't never mind what I told mun. And what was I to do, mylady? So I tooked another mate. 'Twas not a long courting, for hecomes to me, and, saith he--"

  "But where did you say that the Greyhen was gone?" asked the Hind,kindly.

  "I think Clog's Down was the place that she said, my lady. But, blessyour life, she'll come back here, you may depend. For she's gettingup an old bird, my lady,--"

  "And there's no place like home, Bunny," said the Hind.

  "Aye," said Bunny, "and that's just what I was saying only yesterdayto the old Woodcock when she comed telling to me about Norway. 'Getalong with 'ee and your Norwayses,' I says; 'isn't Exmoor good enoughfor 'ee? Many's the fine brood of Woodcocks that I've seen reared onExmoor, without never crossing the sea. Look at me,' I says; '_I_don't go crossing the sea, and look to the broods I've reared.' Andnow, let me think, how many broods is it?--"

  But she took such a long time counting, that, though the Hind waslonging to hear, they were obliged to bid her good-day and go on theirway. Besides, to tell truth, the Calf was so much pleased when heheard her speak of his brown coat that he was dying to find some oneto whom he could show it. And in the very first water that theycrossed he saw the little Salmon come hurrying towards them, andcalled out to them, "Come and look at my brown coat."

  But they answered all together, "Come and look at our silver jackets.We've got our silver jackets, we've got our silver jackets! And therain will come down to-night, and we'll be off to the seato-morrow--hurrah!" And they leaped out of the water and turned headover tail with joy, taking no more notice of the Calf's brown coatthan if it had been a rag of green weed.

  So he passed on with his mother, a little disappointed, and away fromthe yellow grass of the forest to the brown heather of Dunkery. Andthere the heath was full of great stones, unlike any ground that hehad ever travelled over before, so that he had to be careful at firsthow he trod. But he soon found that it was easy enough for him afterhe had gone a little distance; and his mother led him slowly so thathe should have time to learn his way. So on they went
to the very topof the ridge, and there where the heather and grass grow tuft by tuftamong the brown turf-pits, in the heart of the bog, they found a herdof Deer. Such a number of them there were as he had never dreamed of.Great Stags, with three and four on top, like those that he had seenfighting, were lying down, four and five together, in perfect peace,and younger Stags with lighter heads and fewer points, andTwo-year-olds, proud as Punch of their first brow-antlers, andPrickets, ever prouder of their first spires than the Two-year-olds,and a score or more of Hinds, nearly all of them with Calves at foot;and standing sentry over all was old Aunt Yeld.

  "Come along, my dears," she said patronisingly, "the more the merrier.You'll find a few dry beds still empty in the wet ground, where Ruddyand her Calf are lying; but I warn you that you will have to movebefore nightfall."

  So they went, and found Ruddy and her Calf and lay down by them, foryou may be sure that mothers and Calves had a great deal to say toeach other. But as the evening began to close they heard a faint, low,continuous hum from the westward, and all the hinds with one accordleft the bog, and went down into a deep, snug, sheltered combe,clothed thick with dwarf oak-coppice, while the stags went to theirown chosen hiding-places. Soon the hum grew louder and louder, andpresently the rain began to fall in heavy drops, as the little Salmonhad foretold (though how they could foretell it, I know no more thanyou); and then the hum changed to a roar as the Westerly Gale came upin all his might and swept across the moor. And presently an oldDog-Fox came in and shook himself and lay down not far from them onone side, and a Hare came in and crouched close to them on the other,and little birds driven from their own roosting-places flew tremblinginto the branches above them; but not one dared to speak except in awhisper, and then only to say, "What a terrible night!" For all nightlong the gale roared furiously over their heads and the rain and scudflew screaming before it; and once they heard something whistle overtheir heads, crying wildly in a voice not unlike a sea-gull's, "Mercy,mercy, mercy!" Then the little stream below them in the combe began toswell and pour down fuller and fuller; and all round the hill a scoreof other little streams swelled likewise, and came tearing down thehill, adding their roar to the roar of the gale; so you may be surethat the Salmon had a fine flood to carry them down to the sea.

  When the Deer moved out in the morning they found the rain and windraging as furiously as ever, and the air full of salt from the sprayof the sea; and a few hundred yards to leeward of the combe they cameupon a little sooty Sea-bird, quite a stranger to them, lying gaspingon the ground. The poor little fellow could only say, "Mercy, mercy,where is the sea, where is the sea? Where are my brother Petrels?"Then he flapped one little wing feebly, for the other had been dashedby the gale against a branch and broken, and gasped once more and layquite still; nor, though the deer gazed at him for long, did he everspeak or move again. So when they had fed, the deer moved back to theshelter of the combe and lay down there once more; and as the morninggrew the rain ceased, though the wind blew nearly as hard as ever. Butit was still a good hour before noon when the Hare suddenly jumped upand stole out of the combe. A minute after her the Fox stood up,listened for a moment, and stole out likewise, and almost directlyafter him the deer all sprang to their feet; for they heard the deepnote of the hounds and saw their white bodies dashing into the combefull of eagerness and fire. And if any one tells you that it isincredible that Deer, Fox, and Hare should all be lying together as Ihave said, you may tell him from me that I saw them with my own eyesleave the combe one after another by the same path, on just such awild morning as I have described.

  The deer moved quickly on to the hill and began to run away together;but presently Aunt Yeld, and Ruddy and her Calf, and our Hind and herCalf separated from the rest, and went away at a steady pace, for asold Aunt Yeld said, "No hound can travel fast over Dunkery stones."And, indeed, so fond was the old lady of these stones that, when shegot to the edge of them, she turned back over them again and tookRuddy with her. But our Hind and her Calf moved away a mile or twotowards the forest, and finding no hounds in chase of them stopped andrested.

  But after half an hour or more Aunt Yeld came galloping up to themalone, very anxious though not the least tired, and said, "I can'tshake them off. Come along quick!" Then they found that the houndswere hard at their heels, and away they went, in the teeth of thegale, at their best pace. And the Calf kept up bravely, for he wasgrowing strong, but they were pressed so hard that presently Aunt Yeldleft them and turned off by herself. Then by bad luck some of thehounds forsook her line for that of his mother and himself, and drovethem so fast that for the first time in their lives they were obligedto part company, and he was left quite alone. So on he ran by himselftill he came to a familiar little peat-stream, which was boiling downover the stones like a torrent of brown ale; and in he jumped and randown, splashing himself all over. Before he had gone down it fiftyyards he felt so much refreshed that he quite plucked up heart, so hefollowed the water till it joined a far bigger stream, crossed thelarger stream, climbed up almost to the top of the opposite side ofthe combe, and lay down.

  And when he had lain there for more than an hour he saw Aunt Yeldcoming down to the water two or three hundred yards above the placewhere he lay, with her neck bowed and her grey body black with sweat,looking piteously tired and weak. She jumped straight into the floodedwater and came plunging down; and only a few minutes behind her camethe hounds. The moment that they reached the water some of them leapedin and swam to the other side, and they came bounding down both banks,searching diligently as they ran. Then he saw Aunt Yeld stop in a deeppool, and sink her whole body under the water, leaving nothing but herhead above it. She had chosen her place cunningly, where the bank washollowed out and the water was overhung by a little thorn bush thatalmost hid her head from view. And he watched the hounds try down anddown; and he now saw that two horsemen were coming down the combe'sside after them, the men bending low over their saddles, hardly ableto face the gale, and the horses with staring eyes and heaving flanks,almost as much distressed as Aunt Yeld herself. The men seemed to beencouraging the hounds, though in the howling of the wind he couldhear nothing.

  But the pack tried down and down by themselves, till at last they cameto the place where Aunt Yeld was lying; and there two of them stoppedas if puzzled; but she only sank her head a little deeper in the waterand lay as still as death, with her ears pressed back tight upon herneck. Then at last the hounds passed on, though they were loth toleave the spot, and followed the bank down below her. But presentlythe Calf became aware, to his terror, that some of them were pausingat the place where he himself had left the water, and, what was more,were unwilling to leave it. And then a great black and tan houndcarried the line very, very slowly a few yards away from the bank upthe side of the combe, and said, "Ough!" and the hounds on theopposite side of the stream no sooner heard him than they jumped inand swam across to him; so that in half a minute every one of them wasworking slowly up towards his hiding-place. He was so much terrifiedthat he hardly knew whether to lie still or to fly; but presently theblack and tan hound said "Ough!" once more with such a full, deep,awful note that he could stand it no longer, but jumped up at once andbounded up over the hill.

  And then every hound threw up his head and yelled in a way whichbrought his heart into his mouth, but he was soon out of their viewover the crest of the hill, and turning round set his head backwardfor Dunkery. And as he went he saw the horsemen come struggling up thehill, trying to call the hounds off, but unable to catch them. But hesoon felt that he had not the strength to carry him to Dunkery, so heswung round again with the gale in his face, and then by great goodluck he caught the wind of other deer, and running on found that itwas Ruddy and her Calf.

  By the time that he had joined them the men had stopped the hounds,and were taking them back to try down the water again after Aunt Yeld.But you may be sure that Aunt Yeld had not waited for them. On thecontrary, she had made the best of her time, for she had run up thebig water again, and tur
ned from it up a smaller stream, and havingrun up that, was lying down in the fervent hope that she was safe.

  And safe she was; for as luck would have it the wind backed to thesouth-east and began blowing harder than ever, with torrents of rain,so that after another hour the Calf saw horsemen and hounds travellingslowly and wearily home, as drenched and draggled and miserable as adeer could wish to see them. And a little later his mother came andfound him, and though she too was terribly tired, she cared nothingabout herself in the joy of seeing him. Then after a time Aunt Yeldcame up too and joined them, and quite forgetting that it was not atall like a stag to be soft-hearted, she came up to him and fondledhim, and said, "My brave little fellow, you have saved my lifeto-day." So they made their way to the nearest shelter and curled uptogether to keep each other warm, banishing all thought of the day'sadventures in their joy that they were safe.