“No,” replied Father Buck sadly, “it was as I expected. I am getting old, White Tail, and have lost my spring. I have reached the age where I am no longer qualified to lead the herd. If any of the other bucks knew this they would instantly demand a new leader. It’s the law of the herd.”
“But—but—” stammered White Tail. “You could do it again. You didn’t get a good start.”
“No, it wasn’t that, White Tail. It was my age. I can no longer spring across Stepping Stone brook. I am not fit to be leader of the herd.”
Father Buck’s proud head drooped, and something like a tear gleamed in his eyes. It was hard to acknowledge that he was failing, and that in a few seasons he would be looked upon as a useless old buck who would have to take orders from another much younger than he. But it was the law of the herd—and the law of life.
“I can’t believe it!” exclaimed White Tail. “I won’t believe it! I know you can leap across the brook. You must try it again. What I can do you can do!”
Father Buck raised his head and smiled. All the sadness left his eyes, and pride and gratefulness took its place.
“No, White Tail,” he replied. “I cannot do it. I put in that jump all the strength I had—and I failed. But don’t think I’m sad. I’m not. I knew it had to come some day. But I’m glad that my son can take my place. I can be happy yet—and Mother Deer will share it with me—because you have qualified so well to be our leader. I am thankful for that.”
But White Tail was not convinced. It was hard for him to accept the truth. Father Buck was still to him the finest, proudest, wisest and strongest leader he knew, and he wanted him to continue so.
“Some other day when you feel better you will come out here and try the jump again,” he said. “I know you don’t feel well today. Tomorrow you will feel better.”
Father Buck shook his head slowly. “I see you are hard to convince, White Tail. But I will show you in another way. How far is it from here to Puma’s hunting ground?”