ued picking up her breakfast.

But suddenly she started, head erect, eyes dilated, a tremor in her
limbs. She turned her head to the south; she listened intently.

There was a sound, a distinct, prolonged note, pervading the woods. It
was repeated. The doe had no doubt now. It was the baying of a
hound--far off, at the foot of the mountain.

Time enough to fly; time enough to put miles between her and the hound
before he should come upon her fresh trail; yes, time enough. But there
was the fawn.

The cry of the hound was repeated, more distinct this time. The mother
bounded away a few paces. The fawn started up with an anxious bleat. The
doe turned; she came back; she couldn't leave him.

She walked away toward the west, and the little thing skipped after her.
It was slow going for the slender legs, over the fallen logs and through
the rasping bushes. The doe bounded in advance and waited. The fawn
scrambled after her, slipping and tumbling along, and whining a good
deal because his mother kept always moving away from him.

Whenever the fawn caught up, he was quite content to frisk about. He
wanted more breakfast, for one thing; and his mother wouldn't stand
still. She moved on continually; and his weak legs were tangled in the
roots of the narrow deer path.

Suddenly came a sound that threw the doe into a panic of terror,--a
short, sharp yelp, followed by a prolonged howl, caught up and re-echoed
by other bayings along the mountain side. The danger was certain now; it
was near. She could not crawl on in this way; the dogs would soon be
upon them. She turned again for flight. The fawn, scrambling after her,
tumbled over, and bleated piteously. Flight with the fawn was
impossible.

The doe returned, stood by him, head erect and nostrils distended.
Perhaps she was thinking. The fawn lay down contentedly, and the doe
licked him for a moment. Then, with the swiftness of a bird, she dashed
away, and in a moment was lost in the forest. She went in the direction
of the hounds.

She descended the slope of the mountain until she reached the more open
forest of hard wood. She was going due east, when she turned away toward
the north, and kept on at a good pace.

In five minutes more she heard the sharp yelp of discovery, and then the
deep-mouthed howl of pursuit. The hounds had struck her trail where she
turned, and the fawn was safe.

For the moment fear left her, and she bounded on with the exaltation of
triumph.