The elder took the twig with the peculiar tendril into his mouth, pulled it down, turned round elegantly, held it firmly against the ground under his hard hoof and did away with it with a single blow of his crown.
Then he turned to the hare. “Keep still,” he said, “even if it hurts.”
With his head turned to one side, he laid one of the points of his crown against the hare’s neck and pressed it deeply into his fur behind his ears, felt around for something and gave a yank. The hare began to writhe.
The elder immediately moved back. “Keep still!” he ordered. “I’m trying to save your life!” He began anew. The hare lay still, but quivering. Bambi watched in astonishment, he was speechless.
Now the elder had pushed one point of his antlers firmly into the hare’s fur, trying to get it under whatever was slung around the hare’s neck. He was nearly on his knees but twisted his head as if drilling a hole, pushed his crown deeper and deeper until finally, whatever it was gave way and began to loosen.
The hare drew breath and at the same time gave in to his fear, his pain broke loudly out from him. “E ... e ... eh!” he wailed.
The elder stopped what he was doing. “Do be quiet,” he chided, “be quiet!” His mouth was very close to the hare’s shoulder, one of the points of his crown was between the ears and it looked as if he had impaled the hare.
“How can you be so stupid and start to cry?” he gently grumbled. “Do you want to get the fox to come here? Yes? Well then. Keep quiet.”
He continued to work, slowly, carefully, attentively. Suddenly the sling around the hare’s neck began to slip off. The hare slid out of it and he was free before he even knew it. He made a step or two and then sat there in a daze. Then he hopped away. Slowly at first, shyly, but all the time getting faster until he ran away in wild leaps.
Bambi looked at him as he went. “And not a word of thanks!” he declared in astonishment.