e of these fields and feast riotously on the
succulent crops. But at the first glimpse, smell, or sound of man, or
of the noisy dogs who served man and dwelt with him, they would be off
like swift shadows to their remotest retreats. The wise old doe knew a
lot about man; and so, however it came about, the little red buck had a
lot of useful information upon the same subject. At the same time,
through some inexplicable caprice of his mother's, he acquired a
dangerous habit that was in no way consistent with his prudent attitude
toward man. The old doe had a whimsical liking for cows, and would
sometimes lead her fawn into one of the remoter back-lot cow-pastures to
feed among the cattle. She neither permitted nor offered any
familiarities whatever to these heavy, alien beasts, but for some reason
she liked to be among them. The little red buck, therefore, although he
knew the cattle were associated with man and cared for by him, got into
the way of visiting the cow-pastures occasionally and feeding on the
sweet, close-cropped grasses. Fortunately, he learned from the first
that milking-time was a time when the pastures were to be avoided.

Yet another lesson the little buck learned that fall one day when he and
his mother were crossing the road near the settlement. Two of the
village dogs--mongrels neither very keen of nose nor very resolute of
temper--caught sight of them, and gave chase with noisy cry. Away
through the woods went doe and fawn together, bounding lightly, at a
pace that soon left their pursuers far behind. For these pursuers the
old doe had no very great respect--at a pinch, indeed, she would have
faced them and fought them with her nimble fore hoofs, and she did not
want to tire the fawn unnecessarily. When the yelping of the dogs grew
faint in the distance she wheeled around a half-circle of perhaps fifty
feet in diameter, ran back a little way, and lay down with the fawn
beside her to watch the trail. By the time they were both thoroughly
rested the dogs came panting by, noses to the ground. As soon as they
were well past the two fugitives jumped up and made off again at full
speed in another direction. After one repetition of this familiar
manoeuvre the dogs gave up the game in disgust. The little red buck had
learned a handy trick, but he had learned, at the same time, to take
dogs too lightly.

That winter the doe and fawn, with another doe, were in a manner taken
in charge by the tall, wide-antle