Presently Nimble rose to his feet, without making the slightest rustle. And very carefully he stole away.
[III]
AN INTERRUPTED NAP
Nimble, the fawn, stole away into the woods while his mother was sleeping. And when he went he took great pains not to disturb her. He was careful not to step on a single twig. For young as he was, he knew that the sound of a breaking twig was enough to rouse his mother instantly out of the deepest sleep. And he made sure that he didn't set his little feet on any stones. For he knew that at the merest click of a hoof his mother would bound up and discover that he had left her.
So Nimble trod only upon the soft carpet of pine needles and made not the slightest noise. Meanwhile his mother slept peacefully on—or as peacefully as anybody can who is a light sleeper and keeps one ear always cocked to catch every stir in the forest.
She never missed her son at all until she found herself suddenly wide awake and on her feet, ready to run. Not seeing Nimble beside her, for a moment or two she forgot she had a child. Her only thought was to flee from the creature that was crashing through the underbrush beyond the old stone wall and drawing nearer to her every instant.
It was a wonder that she didn't dash off then and there. Indeed she took one leap before she remembered who she was and that she had a youngster named Nimble.