As the cold increased, the snow grew deeper. The paths were kept trodden to the ground and, sheltered between their warm banks, the deer did not suffer from the cutting winds. Food was still plentiful, though the lower branches of the hemlocks had been stripped and the tender tips had long since been devoured. One night in midwinter Brown Brother, in spite of the safety of his fortress, had a narrow escape. The herd had wandered to the edge of the yard where they stood looking out across the great lonely barrens. The snow was deep and soft and the deer knew better than to venture forth. With their tiny, sharp hoofs they would have floundered helplessly at every step, and so become an easy prey to the first enemy that came along. The wind had died away with the setting of the sun, and the night was very still. Across the barrens a faint tinge of green appeared upon the horizon, spreading outward like a great fan across the sky, changing from green to violet and from violet to pink, while great flaming streamers spread upward to the zenith, pulsating as if with life. It was a magnificent display of the Northern Lights and the little herd stood like black statues in the glow. There they remained, staring out across the vast expanse of snow, until suddenly the buck threw up his head and stamped a warning. Immediately the herd came to attention; then, silent as shadows, they turned and vanished along their sheltering paths--all save Brown Brother. Alert but curious, he paused to see for himself what had alarmed the leader. The next moment a lean, tawny beast launched itself toward him and only his extreme quickness saved his life. Like the wind he fled down the path in the direction which the herd had taken, the hungry panther close behind. Upon rounding a corner, he gave a sudden leap which carried him over the intervening wall of snow into the next path, where after several turnings he found the rest of the herd and knew that he was safe. The panther paused, bewildered, at the spot where the trail ended abruptly and the fugitive seemed to have vanished into thin air. He sniffed hungrily about, then turned and slunk back the way he had come, his stomach still empty and his temper boding ill for any unfortunate whose trail he might cross. As the long winter dragged on, food became more scarce. The ground had been cropped clean of lichens and moss and it was necessary to reach high for the balsam twigs. The doe and fawns would have fared ill had not the buck helped them by bending down the higher branches which only he could reach. As it was, their sides grew lean and their skin hung loosely upon them. In March the big buck shed his antlers, leaving them lying upon the snow where the fawns sniffed curiously at them.