leaving on their long, difficult journey to the far-away
Southland. Farewells are always rather sad, and this particular
farewell had left Peter with a lump in his throat,--a queer,
choky feeling.

"If I were sure that they would return next spring, it wouldn't
be so bad," he muttered. "It's those terrible guns. I know what
it is to have to watch out for them. Farmer Brown's boy used to
hunt me with one of them, but he doesn't any more. But even when
he did hunt me it wasn't anything like what the Ducks have to go
through. If I kept my eyes and ears open, I could tell when a
hunter was coming and could hide in a hole if I wanted to. I
never had to worry about my meals. But with the Ducks it is a
thousand times worse. They've got to eat while making that long
journey, and they can eat only where there is the right kind of
food. Hunters with terrible guns know where those places are and
hide there until the Ducks come, and the Ducks have no way of
knowing whether the hunters are waiting for them or not. That
isn't hunting. It's--it's--"

"Well, what is it? What are you talking to yourself about,
Peter Rabbit?"

Peter looked up with a start to find the soft, beautiful eyes of
Lightfoot the Deer gazing down at him over the top of a little
hemlock tree.

"It's awful," declared Peter. "It's worse than unfair.
It doesn't give them any chance at all."

"I suppose it must be so if you say so," replied Lightfoot,
"but you might tell me what all this awfulness is about."

Peter grinned. Then he began at the beginning and told Lightfoot
all about Mr. and Mrs. Quack and the many dangers they must face
on their long journey to the far-away Southland and back again in
the spring, all because of the heartless hunters with terrible
guns. Lightfoot listened and his great soft eyes were filled with
pity for the Quack family.

"I hope they will get through all right," said he, "and I hope
they will get back in the spring. It is bad enough to be hunted
by men at one time of the year, as no one knows better than I do,
but to be hunted in the spring as well as in the fall is more
than twice as bad. Men are strange creatures. I do not
understand them at all. None of the people of the Green Forest
would think of doing such terrible things. I suppose it is quite
right to hunt others in order to get enough to eat, though I am
thankful to say that I never have had to do that, but to hunt
others just for the fun of