ame softly to the ground and he crept off like a
terrible gray shadow. For two or three seconds the fawn's sides moved
violently. Then he was once more as still as a stone.

It chanced that on this particular occasion the mother doe was long
away. The fawn got very hungry, as well as lonely, which strained his
patience to the utmost. Nevertheless, he remained obedient to the law
which shielded him, while the forest, which seems so empty, but is in
reality so populous, sent its furtive kindreds past his hiding-place.
From time to time a dainty, bead-eyed wood-mouse scurried by; or a
brooding partridge, unwilling to be long absent from her eggs, ran
hither and thither to peck her hasty meal; or a red squirrel, with
fluffy tail afloat, would dart swiftly and silently over the ground,
dash up a tree, and from the top chatter shrill defiance to the perils
which had lain wait for him below. All these things the fawn's wide eyes
observed, unconsciously laying the foundations for that wisdom of the
woods upon which his success in the merciless game of life would depend.
Once a large red fox, wary, but self-confident, trotted quietly across
one end of the thicket, within ten feet of the fawn's nose; and once
more that inward spasm which meant fear contracted the depths of the
little watcher's eyes. But the fox was sniffing with his narrow,
inquisitive snout at the places where the partridge hen had scratched,
and he never saw the fawn.

With all its advantages, however, this invisibility had certain defects
of its own. About five minutes after the fox had gone there came a
swishing of branches, a pounding of soft feet, a mysterious sound of
haste and terror, at the back of the thicket where the fawn could not
see. He did not dare to lift his head and look, but waited, quivering
with apprehension. The next moment a furry bulk landed plump upon his
flank, to bounce off again with a squeal of terror. In an uncontrollable
panic the fawn bounded to his feet, and stood trembling, while a large
hare, elongated to a straight line in the desperation of his flight,
shot crashing through the screen of branches and disappeared. As the
fawn shrank away from this incomprehensible apparition--which, as far as
he knew, might return at any instant and thump him again--a thin,
snarling, peculiarly malignant cry made him turn his head, and as he did
so a small, dark-furred beast, the hare's pursuer, sprang upon him
furiously and bore him down. Fo