d, and tossed his head in the
air with an expression that was not fear, but alertness, and even
defiance. And when he leaped and ran--but there's no use in trying to
describe that.

By the middle of July most of the flies were gone, and the deer could
travel where they pleased without being eaten alive. And then, almost
before they knew what had happened, the summer was gone, too, and the
autumn had come. The Fawn's white spots disappeared, and both he and his
mother put off their thin red summer clothing and donned the blue coat
of fall, which would by and by fade into the gray of winter--a garment
made of longer, coarser hairs, which were so thick that they had to
stand on end because there wasn't room for them to lie down, and which
made such a warm covering that one who wore it could sleep all night in
the snow, and rise in the morning dry and comfortable.

The Fawn had thriven wonderfully. Already the budding antlers were
pushing through the skin on the top of his head, which alone is pretty
good proof that he was a remarkable baby. But, of course, the infancy of
a wild animal is always much shorter than that of a human child. It is
well that this is so, for if the period of weakness and helplessness was
not shortened for them, there would probably be very few who would ever
survive its dangers and reach maturity. The Fawn was weaned early in the
autumn; though he still ran with his mother, and she showed him what
herbs and leaves were pleasantest to the taste and best for building up
bone and muscle, and where the beechnuts were most plentiful. The mast
was good that fall, which isn't always the case, and that was another
lucky star in young Buck's horoscope. So much depends on having plenty
to eat the first year.

And now the doe was thriving as well as her son. Through the summer she
had been thin and poor, for the Fawn had fed on her life and strength,
and the best of all that came to her she had given to him; but the
strain was over at last, and there were granted her a few weeks in
which to prepare for the season of cold and storm and scanty food. She
made the best of them, and in an amazingly short time she was rolling
fat.

Everything was lovely and the goose hung high, when all of a sudden the
peace and quiet of their every-day lives were rudely broken. The hunting
season had come, and half-a-dozen farmers from lower Michigan had camped
beside the Glimmerglass. They were not really very formidable. If