“That’s a good idea,” cried the squirrel, “you’re really so clever. I’m always saying how clever you are.” With a bound he sprang onto a higher branch. “You couldn’t do anything better than go to the meadow now,” he called down. Then he swung with light bounds back and forth through the tree-top. “I’m going up where I can get the sunlight,” he chattered merrily, “I’m all soaked through. I’m going all the way up.” He didn’t care whether they were still listening to him or not. The meadow was full of life. Friend Hare was there and had brought along his family. Aunt Ena was there with her children and a few acquaintances. That day Bambi saw the fathers again. They came slowly out of the forest from opposite directions. There was a third stag too. Each walked slowly in his track, back and forth, along the meadow. They paid no attention to anyone and did not even talk to one another. Bambi looked at them frequently. He was respectful, but full of curiosity. Then he talked to Faline and Gobo and a few other children. He wanted to play a while. All agreed and they began running around in a circle. Faline was the gayest of all. She was so fresh and nimble and brimming over with bright ideas. But Gobo was soon tired. He had been terribly frightened by the storm. His heart had hammered loudly and was still pounding. There was something very weak about Gobo, but Bambi liked him because he was so good and willing and always a little sad without letting you know it. Time passed and Bambi was learning how good the meadow grass tasted, how tender and sweet the leaf buds and the clover were. When he nestled against his mother for comfort it often happened that she pushed him away. “You aren’t a little baby any more,” she would say. Sometimes she even said abruptly, “Go away and let me be.” It even happened sometimes that his mother got up in the little forest glade, got up in the middle of the day, and went off without noticing whether Bambi was following her or not. At times it seemed, when they were wandering down the familiar paths, as if his mother did not want to notice whether Bambi was behind her or was trailing after. One day his mother was gone. Bambi did not know how such a thing could be possible, he could not figure it out. But his mother was gone and for the first time Bambi was left alone. He wandered about, he was troubled, he grew worried and anxious and began to want her terribly. He stood quite sadly, calling her. Nobody answered and nobody came. He listened and snuffed the air. He could not smell anything. He called again. Softly, pathetically, tearfully, he called “Mother, Mother!” In vain. Then despair seized him, he could not stand it and started to walk. He wandered down the trails he knew, stopping and calling. He wandered farther and farther with hesitating steps, frightened and helpless. He was very downcast.