Late one afternoon as the three were drinking from a clear forest
stream, they were joined by a lordly buck, his antlers bristling like a
thicket, each point needle-sharp. At once he took command of the little
herd, showing them the best feeding grounds and protecting them from
danger. One night he led them southward to the very edge of the
wilderness. Immediately before them a low stone wall bordered a garden
patch, the rows of peas and beans and round heads of cabbage bathed in
the bright moonlight.
The low wall was no obstacle, even to the fawns. With graceful leaps
they cleared it and found themselves in a land of plenty. They sampled
everything, but soon came back to the long rows of peas, sweet and
tender in their green pods. Here they gorged themselves until the first
light of day appeared, when they returned to the wilderness, leaving the
garden a sorry sight indeed.
The next night the enraged farmer lay in wait with a gun but the wily
old buck knew better than to return to the same place. He again led his
family southward, but this time they left the wilderness at a point
several miles east of the spot where the man lay in wait.
Here they paused at an old rail fence to stare curiously at a cabin
bathed in the moonlight, and a much smaller cabin set upon the top of a
tall pole. The old buck sniffed the wind suspiciously. As no danger
seemed to threaten, he decided upon a closer investigation and led the
others a short distance along the fence which terminated in another low
stone wall. The next moment they were stepping daintily between the
Hermit's rows of beets, stopping here and there to browse upon anything
that took their fancy.
Perhaps the Hermit's garden also would have suffered greatly, had not
Pal soon discovered the visitors and advanced upon them barking shrilly.
The buck lowered his head and pawed the ground threateningly, inclined
to defend his position and his herd, while the dog paused uncertainly
before the bristling array. His continued barking soon aroused his
master who leaped from his hammock and hurriedly rounded the corner of
the cabin.
At the appearance of the man the buck's courage deserted him. He knew
men and their far-reaching instrument of death and he did not stop to
argue even the question of fresh vegetables. Instead, he presented the
flag of truce and his little family lost no time in following his
example. Only Brown Brother hesitated. Between the rows of beets his
tongue had come into contact with the handle of a hoe. The Hermit had
that day been using the hoe and his hands, damp with perspiration, had
left a faint suggestion of salt upon the handle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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