CHAPTER VIII
They were glad to get on to the heather again, and to hear the breezesinging over the moor, and still more glad when they caught the windof deer and found Aunt Yeld and Ruddy among them. And Lady Ruddy hadkept her promise to her little Hind and had given her a little Stagfor a brother, a fine little fellow, who was already beginning to shedhis white spots and grow his brown coat. But almost directly afterthey arrived the stags began belling and fighting again, and there wasno peace for nearly a month until they had tired themselves out andsettled down to live quietly for another year.
Then came a week of sharp frost, which made the ground too hard forthe hounds to trouble them; and they really began to think that theymight enjoy a quiet winter. Their winter-friends came flocking back tothem, the Woodcock arriving one bright moonlight night with the wholeof her own family and two or three more families besides. They allsettled down above the cliffs where the springs were kept unfrozen bythe sea, and night after night while the moon lasted the Pricket sawthem grubbing in the soft ground with their long bills, and growingfatter and fatter. But at length one morning the Sea-gulls came inscreaming from the sea to say that the west wind and the rain werecoming; and that very night the frost vanished. Then came three daysof endless grey clouds and mizzling rain, and then the sun and bluesky returned; and the Deer moved out of the covert to the open groundto enjoy St. Martin's summer.
But one day while they were lying in the great grass tufts in themiddle of the wet ground, they were startled by the approach of horsesand hounds; and they leaped to their feet and made off in all haste.There were but two hounds after them, but for all that the Hind andthe Pricket were never more alarmed, for scent as they knew was good,and the pace at which those two hounds flew after them was terrible.They had not run above a quarter of a mile when Aunt Yeld turned offin one direction, and Ruddy with her Yearling and her Calf inanother; but the hounds let them go where they would, and raced afterour Pricket and his mother as if they had been tied to them. They bothran their hardest, but they could not shake off those two hounds, andpresently they parted company and fled on, each of them alone. ThePricket made for the cliffs, dashing across the peat-stream withoutdaring to wait for a bath; and as he cantered up the hill towards therefuge that he had chosen, he caught sight of his mother racing overthe yellow grass at her topmost speed, and no longer one couple butsixteen couples of hounds racing after her in compact order, not oneof them gaining an inch on his neighbour. He saw her gallop up to agate in a fence and fly over it like an arrow from the bow; and a fewminutes after her the hounds also came to the same gate and flew overit likewise, without pausing for an instant, like a handful of whiteblossoms driven before the wind. Then he turned into the plantation,frightened out of his life, and ran down through them, leapingdesperately over the stunted trees and scaring the Woodcocks out oftheir five wits. And from the plantation he ran down through theoak-woods on the cliff, and from thence to the beach, and then withoutpausing for a moment he ran straight into the sea and swam out overthe waves as only a deer can swim.
The cool water refreshed him; and presently he stopped swimming andturned round, floating quietly on the surface, to see if he was stillin danger. But the woods were all silent, and there was no sign ofhound or horse on the shore or on the cliff-paths; so after waitingfor another quarter of an hour he swam back, and climbed up over thecliff again till he found a stream of fresh water. There he drank agood draught, and passing on came upon a Woodcock, one of those thathe had frightened on his way down. The little bird was rather cross athaving been disturbed in the middle of her day-dreams, for she said:"What on earth made you come tearing through this wood in that mad wayjust now? There was nobody hunting you, and nothing of any kind tofrighten you. I was in the middle of a delightful dream about Norway,and you quite spoilt it." But he soon soothed her, for woodcocks areeasy-going little creatures, and went away and lay down, very muchrelieved to know that he was unpursued.
When evening came he went away to seek his mother, but he could notfind her; and all next day he wandered about asking every deer thathe met if they had seen her, but not one could tell him anything. Hemet Aunt Yeld and Ruddy, but they knew nothing, and he could not askthe hounds who might have told him; so at last very sorrowfully hegave up searching and made up his mind that she would never come back.And he was right, for she never did come back, and he never saw heragain. But, after all, he was old enough to take care of himself, andit was time for him to be making his own way in the world. There wereplenty of young deer of his own age to keep him company, and Aunt Yeldand Ruddy's little daughter were still left for old friends. So hesettled down comfortably on Dunkery, and by good luck was littletroubled the rest of the winter by the hounds.
At last the spring came again and all was peace on the moor. The ashsent forth its green shoots, and as usual all the young male deer camecrowding up to eat them; and our Deer got a larger share this spring,for he was bigger and stronger and could drive the yearlings away. Butabout the middle of April his head began to ache again, and not onlyto ache but to irritate him a great deal. It grew worse and worseevery day, and one morning it got so troublesome on one side that hegave his head an extra violent shake; and lo and behold! the horn onthat side began to totter, and before he could understand what hadhappened, it fell to the ground. For a minute or two he stood stilltrembling with pain, for the air struck cold on to the place fromwhich the horn had dropped, and hurt him dreadfully. The pain soon gotbetter, and he went away to hide himself, for he felt very muchashamed at having but one horn. But after a few hours the other sideof his head grew as bad as the first, and he was wondering what onearth he should do, when who should come by but another Two-year-old,with both horns still on his head? Now this Two-year-old was rathersmaller than our Deer, and rather disliked him because he took alarger share of the ash-sprouts; so thinking that this would be a fineopportunity of taking his revenge, he came at him at once with hishead lowered. And our Deer ran away--what else could he do with onlyone horn against two?--and as he bounded under the oak bushes heknocked his remaining horn against a branch, and thump! off it came assuddenly as the other. But he was able to crow over the Two-year-oldin a few days when he too had shed his horns, for our Deer had gotthe start of him in growing a new pair, and could show two inches ofgrowing velvet where the other could only show one.
So when the autumn came and the velvet began to peel, our Deer foundthat he had bigger horns than any other deer of his own age, brow,trey and upright, very strong and well-grown; such was his good luckin being an early calf and having had so good a mother. And whenanother year came (for the years, as you will find out to your costsome day, fly away much faster as one grows older) and he had shed hisold horns and grown his new pair, he carried on each horn, brow, bayand trey, with two on top on one side and upright on the other, ornine points in all.
Now towards the end of that summer a great big Stag came up to him andsaid, "My fine young fellow, it is time that you had nothing more todo with hinds and young things; you must come and be my squire." Nowour Deer thought it a great compliment to be noticed by so splendid anold fellow, and went with him gladly enough. The pair of them wereconstantly together for several weeks; and our Deer found it notunpleasant, for the old Stag knew of all the best feeding grounds,and, though he took all the best of the food for himself, left plentyand to spare for the squire. But it was a shame to see how wastefulthis greedy old fellow was. For if they went into a turnip-field hewould only take a single bite out of a turnip, worry it out of theground, and go on to another; while often he would pick up scores ofroots and throw them over his head, from mere mischief and pride inthe strength of his neck. Again, in the corn-fields he was so daintythat he would not take a whole ear of corn, but would bite off half ofit and leave the rest to spoil. Now a hind, as our Deer knew fromobserving his mother, is far more thrifty. She will take four or fivebites out of a turnip before she pulls it out of the ground and leavesit, and she takes the whole of an
ear of corn instead of half. But Iam sorry to say that our young Deer took example from the great Stag,and soon became as wasteful and mischievous as he was in his feeding;and indeed I never saw nor heard of a stag that had not learned thisvery bad habit.
The only occasions on which the old Stag did not keep his squire withhim was when he went to lie down in the covert for the day afterfeeding. The lazy old fellow was very particular about his bed, andwas aware of all kinds of quiet places in the cliffs, where he knewthat the hounds would be unlikely to find him. Or sometimes he wouldtell his squire to stop for a minute, and then he would make agigantic bound of twenty feet or more into the midst of some densethicket, and say to him quietly: "Now I am quite comfortable. Do yougo on and lie down by yourself; but don't go too far, and keep towindward of me, so that I can find you if I want you."
And our Deer used to go as he was told, never doubting that all wasright; nor was it until late in the autumn that he found out hismistake. For one day while he was lying quietly in the shortplantation above the cliffs he heard the familiar cry of hounds, andpresently up came the old Stag. He jerked his head at him, just as theother old stag had done when he was a calf, and said very roughly:"Now, then, give me your bed, young fellow, and run instead of me.Look sharp." And our Deer jumped up at once, but he was so angry andastonished at being treated in this way now that he was grown up, thathe quite forgot his manners, and said very shortly, "Sha'n't!"
"How dare you? Go on at once," said the old Stag, quivering with rageand lowering his head, but our Deer lowered his head too and madeready to fight him, though he was but half of his size; and it wouldhave gone hard with him, if just at that moment the hounds had notcome up. Then the old Stag threw himself down into his bed with awicked chuckle; and the hounds made a rush at our Deer and forced himto fly for his life. So there he was, starting alone before the houndsfor the first time, and with only a few minutes to make up his mindwhither he would go. But what other refuge should he seek but the woodwhere his mother had led him as a calf? So he left the covert at onceand started off gallantly over the heather.
He ran on for five or six miles, for he had been frightened by findingthe hounds so close to him when the old Stag drove him out. But aftera time he stopped and listened, for he had heard no voice of houndsbehind him since he left the covert, and began to doubt whether theywere chasing him after all. He pricked his ears intently, and turnedround to find if the wind would bear him any scent of his enemies. No!there was not a sign of them. Evidently they were not following him,and he was safe. And this indeed was the case, for, though he did notknow it, some men had seen the two deer turn and fight, and, markingthe spot where the old Stag had lain down, had brought the hounds backand roused him again. But our Deer was too wary to make sure of hissafety without the help of a peat-stream, so he cantered on to thenext water and ran up it for a long way till it parted into three orfour tiny threads, for he was now on the treacherous, boggy groundwhere the rivers rise. Then he left the stream and lay down in thetall, rank grass, meaning to wait there till night should come, if hewere undisturbed. And lonely though it was, he felt that he was onfriendly ground, for all round him the tiny brown streams were singingtheir song.
_Through heather and woodland, through meadow and lea_ _We flow from the forest[1] away to the sea._ _In cloud and in vapour, in mist and in rain_ _We fly from the sea to the forest again._ _Oh! dear is the alder and dearer the fern,_ _And welcome are kingfisher, ousel and herne,_ _The swan from the tide-way, the duck from the mere,_ _But welcome of all is the wild Red-Deer._ _Turn down to the sea, turn up to the hill,_ _Turn north, turn south, we are with you still._ _Though fierce the pursuer, wherever you fly_ _Our voices will tell where a friend is nigh,_ _Your thirst to quench, and your strength to stay,_ _And to wash the scent of your feet away._ _Lie down in our midst and know no fear,_ _For we are the friends of the wild Red-deer._
[Footnote 1: A forest does not necessarily imply trees. There is not a tree on the forest of Exmoor.]
So there he lay for two hours and more, never doubting but that he wassafe, till suddenly to his dismay he thought he heard the voice of ahound, very faint and far away. He lay quite still, and after a timehe thought he heard it again; but he could hardly think that thehounds could follow his line after so long a time. He waited andwaited, distinctly hearing the sound come nearer, though very slowly,till presently a Blackcock came spinning up to him, whom he recognisedas one of the old Greyhen's children. "Beware, my lord, beware," hesaid; "they'm coming slowly, but they'm a-coming, and I am bound towarn 'ee."
"Are they come to the water?" he asked.
"No," said the Blackcock, "but they'm almost come to it. Bide quiet,and I will keep watch. The old Stag managed to beat the hounds on thecliffs, and as they could not find mun again, the men after waiting along time laid the pack on your line, and faint though scent was, theyhave followed it slowly, and follow it yet."
So the Blackcock watched, and saw the hounds puzzling out the scentinch by inch with the greatest difficulty. There were but very fewhorsemen with them, though the moor was dotted in all directions witha hundred or more of them that had given up the chase and were goingaway. But a few still stuck to the hounds, which never ceasedsearching in all directions for the line of the Deer. At last aftermuch puzzling the hounds carried the scent to the water, and therethey were brought to their wits' end; but they tried up and up and upwith tireless diligence till they came to a place where a huge tuft ofgrass jutted out high over the water from the bank, and there theystopped.
"Oh, my lord, my lord," whispered the Blackcock, "you didn't neverbrush the grass as you passed, surely?"
But while he spoke a hound reared up on his hind-legs and thrust hisnose into the grass tuft, and said, "Ough! he has passed here;" andthe Deer knew the voice as that of the black and tan hound that hadled the way to his hiding-place once before when he was a calf. Yet helay still, though trembling, while the hounds searched on closer andcloser to him, albeit with little to guide them, for the scent wasweak from the water that had run off his coat when he left the stream.At last, one after another, they gave up trying, and only the blackand tan hound kept creeping on with his nose on the ground, till atlast he caught the wind of the Deer in his bed, and stood rigid andstiff with ears erect and nostrils spread wide. Then the Blackcockrose and flew away crying, "Fly, my lord, fly," and the Deer jumped upand bounded off at the top of his speed.
He heard every hound yell with triumph behind him, but he summoned allhis courage, and set his face to go over the hill to the valleywhither the Wild-Duck had guided him two years before. And he gainedon the hounds, for he was fresh, whereas they had worked hard andtravelled far to hunt him to his bed. So he cantered on in strengthand confidence over bog and turf-pit till he gained the hilltop, andon down the long slope which led to the valley, and through theoak-coppice to the water. Then he jumped in and ran down, while themerry brown stream danced round him and leaped over his heatedflanks, refreshing him and encouraging him till he felt that he couldrun on for ever.
He followed it for full two miles and would have followed it stillfurther, when all of a sudden a great Fish like a huge bar of silvercame sculling up the stream to him and motioned him back.
"What is it, my Lord Salmon?" he asked.
"There are men on the bank not far below the bridge," answered theFish. "Turn back, for your life. Do you know of a good pool withinreach upward?"
"Not one," said the Stag; "but hide yourself if you can, my LordSalmon, for the hounds will be down presently."
But for all the Salmon's warnings he went on yet a little further, forhe knew that he should find another stream flowing into that whereinhe stood, before he reached the bridge. So down he went till hereached it, and then without leaving the water he turned up thissecond stream for another mile. Then at last he went up into thecovert, turning and twisting as he had seen old Aunt Yeld on the moor,and picking out every bit of stony gr
ound, just as his mother hadtaught him.
Meanwhile he heard the hounds trying down the other stream far beyondthe spot where he had left it; and when at last they tried back up thewater after him the evening was closing in, and the scent was so weakand all of them so tired that they could only hunt very slowly. So he,like a cunning fellow, kept passing backward and forward through thewood from one stream to the other, till at last he began to grow tiredhimself; when luckily he met the Salmon again, who led him down to adeep pool, where he sunk himself under the bank, as he had once seenAunt Yeld sink herself. He lay there till night came and the valleywas quiet and safe, and then he jumped out and lay down, very thankfulto the friendly waters that had saved his life.
The Story of a Red Deer Page 9
