Forest World (8 page)

When they reached the forest, Peter turned off and Martin went on alone. He breathed deeply of the sharp air and watched his warm breath vanish like thin smoke.

The roaring of the stags sounded. Martin stood stock-still to listen. With his finely tuned senses, he could tell the voices apart. Now one bayed. And then another cry thundered deep and throaty.

The voices of the younger animals pealed clearly. In
contrast sounded the commanding basses of the Kings.

Martin walked the narrow trail step by step, carefully avoiding every dry twig that might crack. But suddenly close to him came a rustling and breaking. A stag rushed by, so near that Martin could have touched him. Martin groped his way on noiselessly.

About eighty paces ahead in the bush, something dark moved. Then came a mighty roaring.

That was he—Martin's favorite, monarch of the forest. It was from him that the other had fled.

Tambo bayed forth. His black mane stretched almost horizontally, so that his brown crown seemed to lie on his back. The roaring came from the depth of his breast. Martin could see its power, a cloud of steam floating in the morning air.

A number of stately does, seven in all, huddled together close to Tambo, their ears moving. They were rapt in awe of their tyrant husband.

Completely hidden in the thicket an older, weaker stag lurked in ambush, waiting to see whether in a lucky moment he could steal one of the seven, but at the same time ready for flight.

The does listened to Tambo, faithfully admiring him, but at the same time prepared to desert him should another woo them.

When one started to slip off into the bush, Tambo leaped over and drove the fugitive back to her place with a few admonishing blows with his antlers. She accepted the punishment without protest.

Tambo bayed in triumph.

Deep and continuous in the near distance sounded the baying of an old stag. It rose in a clearer, higher sound, fell off and began again at once. This new voice drowned out all others. It was a challenge to a struggle, a mockery of the weak and cowardly, and a proud wooing. Tambo cocked his head to listen.

That, Martin realized, must be the giant King who, a few years before, had carried fourteen points, but had recently reverted to ten. Now his big crown ended in long, blank spears which shone like ivory.

His baying grew closer. The other stags were silent, frightened and tense. Tambo waited as the great voice came.

Martin felt anxious. In spite of his aversion for killing, he almost hoped that
Peter was at hand, to shoot the old warrior in Tambo's defense if necessary.

And then the old stag appeared at the edge of the thicket. He stood motionless for a second, before he plunged berserk at Tambo.

Tambo seemed about to sacrifice himself, so close did he let the old one come. With swift agility, he executed a slight turn and lowered his crown a bit.

Dully the two heads crashed. At once, with a somewhat sharper sound, the antlers knocked together.

Each fighter strained against the other, snorting, putting forth his entire strength. Their eyes were bloodshot. They breathed in short gasps. The old stag jumped backward.

As the pressure against him withdrew suddenly, Tambo stumbled forward. This, the watching Martin knew, was the moment of greatest danger.

But before the old one could drive his horns into Tambo's exposed flank, a shot rang out!

Martin saw the mighty stag leap into the air once and again; saw his eyes open wide with amazement; saw his convulsive staggering;
saw death force down into the wilted meadow grass a great animal that just now had been full of life.

The does had disappeared. Tambo too had vanished.

Martin, shaken and trembling, met Peter by the old stag's body, looked down into the dead eyes which shimmered glassy green. He heard Peter mutter, “I didn't want to shoot you down, old fellow, but I had to.”

Martin sighed. “That's how it always is! Age dies that youth may live.”

“Don't feel too badly about him,” said Peter. “His end came at a moment of victory. And it was sudden. Better than if he'd had to die slowly, like other senile animals. He'd have been dethroned, and wandered around humiliated. He'd have died gradually with great suffering. Now he's been spared that.”

Yet his mood of depression continued as Martin wandered home.

J
UST BEFORE DAWN ONE LATE fall morning the roe Genina, with her two kids, came to the Forest Lodge. They stepped gingerly around the house, where the human beings were still sleeping. Treff pricked up his ears, but did not bark.

The roes wandered toward the stable where the doors opened at the slightest touch. Followed by both her young, Genina stepped into the warm space which was filled with the odor of sleeping animals.

“It's pleasant here,” said Genina to her children. “Let's stay. We'll be safe.”

Manni stood up quickly at the sound and stared in amazement at the intruders. “Look! Look!” he cried to his sleeping companions. “The wild ones from the forest!” He went toward Genina, still unbelieving. “Why did you leave the forest? Anything wrong there?”

The others awoke, and all marveled over the guests. They stared at them curiously, but welcomed them, glad they had come.

Witch inquired, “Poor things, haven't you anything to eat?”

“Oh, we have enough,” Genina answered. “Sweet hay, chestnuts and turnips. Yes, we're full.”

“What's the matter then?” asked Manni. “No thunder-stick is crashing now.”

“I know. It is not your He that we are so afraid of. If we were, we wouldn't have come here.”

“Whom are you afraid of?” demanded the stallion.

“There are others—who murder without the thunder-stick.”

“How?” Manni wanted to know. “No He can kill without a thunder-stick.”

“That's what you think,” the roe mother retorted. “I don't understand how, myself, but they murder us much more cruelly than with the thunder-stick. You hear nothing, see nothing. Suddenly you can't move from the spot. You writhe helplessly, gasping for air. But no use! Life is over only after great torture.”

“Oh, come on! That's hard to believe!” snorted Devil.

“Just the same, it's true,” sighed the roe. “Many hares have fallen victim to this strange death, a few grownups of my family, five or six of our young. And when you have two little ones . . .”

“Nothing will happen to you here with us,” Lisa consoled the roe. The cow had forgotten now that she had ever been afraid of her two-legged guardians herself.

“I hope not,” Genina sighed; “but you really don't know anymore whom you can trust.”

“You can trust us completely,” Witch affirmed.

“And our two-legged ones as well,” Manni nodded.

“Yes, I know them,” said the roe mother. “They do no evil.”

The kids, Mena and Loso, had hung timidly behind their mother.

“Here you are, little ones. Have some.” Devil pushed his crib a little so that some oats fell to the floor. The twins scrambled for the grain, seeking it out gaily and eagerly in the straw, treating themselves to the new and strange meal.

“You're quite different from us,” Genina said suddenly.

“Obviously.” The stallion drew himself up very tall. “You can see that from the size of our bodies.”

“As far as that goes,” the roe said, “we have distinguished relatives in the forest who are no smaller than you. And besides, they wear wonderful crowns.”

The surprise of the horses, the cow and the calf, amused the mother roe. Manni of course recalled seeing Tambo. The doe continued: “What I meant was that your way of life is different from ours.”

“Decidedly,” Devil agreed. “We don't live such dangerous lives.”

“We live much more comfortably than you do,” cried Manni.

“Our life is simply grand!” Witch spoke enthusiastically.

“Yes, I see. But I wouldn't change with you for anything,” Genina remarked.

“Yet you've come here to us,” snorted the stallion.

“Yes, because I had to. I was afraid for my little ones. Otherwise I wouldn't be here with you.”

Manni was curious. “Why not? Why wouldn't you like to lead our beautiful kind of life?”

“Because you lack the most precious thing of all.”

“To be knocked over by the thunder-stick or to be tortured to death?” mocked the stallion.

“You don't understand. I mean our freedom. Even the thunder-stick—it's hurled very rarely after all—and even slow death by torture belong with our good life. Our wonderful freedom isn't destroyed so easily. Freedom can never be paid for too dearly!” The mother roe stood radiant in her grace and pride.

The animals of the stable were all silent, bewildered but moved by an unconscious respect for the delicate little creature.

The stallion as usual lost patience first. “Describe this freedom to us.”

“I can't. To know it and understand it, you must live in freedom from your first day on earth.”

Devil pawed impatiently. “Why?”

“None of you can possibly understand. You're His servants. You're fond of Him and you obey Him. That's the difference between you and us. That's what really makes us strangers to one another.”

“Strangers!” Witch echoed. “I think we're getting along together very well indeed.”

“Of course we are. And I think I could be quite devoted to all of you. But—but there's a deep gulf between us just the same. You don't envy me my way of life and I envy you yours even less. . . . Oh, let's not talk about it anymore.” She made herself comfortable, closed her eyes and was asleep almost immediately. The two kids slept nearby, exhausted by the excitement of their new adventure.

Witch bent down and breathed over Genina. “Isn't she pretty?”

“A little sure of herself, it seems to me,” Devil puffed.

“Not at all,” Manni defended Genina. “She's an innocent, simple thing.”

Lisa looked over. “The two little ones are adorable.”

Now there was deep silence. The horses, the donkey, Lisa and the calf dozed off too. They were all waiting to be fed and watered. Lisa longed to be milked.

It was almost daylight when Babette entered the stable. Peter came in right behind her. At their heavy steps, the roes leaped up frightened, and fled into the farthest corner where the kids huddled close to their mother.

“Look! Peter, look!” cried Babette. “Roes! From the forest! Oh, how beautiful!” she whispered. She went over to them and caressed one after the other. They trembled under her hand. “Don't be afraid,” she murmured softly. “I won't hurt you. Peter, why do you suppose they've come to us?”

“It's almost a miracle,” Peter answered.

He and Babette hurried to the house to tell Martin about the surprising visitors.

Manni mused, “Wouldn't it be fine if He understood our speech, and we didn't have to guess at His!”

“We can guess only vaguely what He says and means,” grumbled the stallion.

Manni whispered to the roes, “If such understanding were possible, you could tell Him what goes on in the forest.”

“Yes, but it's a vain hope,” sighed Witch.

“A vain hope,” repeated the mother roe. “I never think of hoping anything like that. It makes me tremble to have Him come so close to me, to have Him touch me. Somehow even though I know He will do us no harm, He makes me terribly afraid—and my little ones too.”

“But that's foolish.” Manni tried to calm her. “He's so good and kind.”

“Don't be afraid, youngsters,” Witch said to the twins.

*  *  *

Meanwhile Martin was hearing about the new arrivals. He was amazed. “Why would roes come to the barn?”

“In flight,” Peter suggested.

“But from whom? From what?”

“I'm sure they were chased here by something,” Babette said. “Maybe a fox.”

“Come on, I must see them,” said Martin and they all went back to the animals. While Babette busied herself milking Lisa, and Peter fed and watered the others, Martin stood by the roes. He was too puzzled to caress or touch them.

“Give them clover,” he said, “and some oats.”

In the corner where the roes had fled Peter made a bed for them. He piled clover before them and liberally poured out oats.

“I don't understand this at all,” Martin said in bewilderment.

“Now that I think about it, it isn't so hard to figure,” muttered Peter. “Poachers! They might be at it pretty badly!”

“Yes, that might be it,” Martin said and his face flushed with sudden anger.

“Might be? I'm sure of it! A roe doesn't run here with her kids for nothing.”

“But I heard no shooting.”

“You're—well, sir, may I say innocent? They're mighty careful to make no noise. They lay out traps, the scoundrels!”

“Peter, we've got to put a stop to it.”