The rest of the race would decide which was the champion. Either they had to run abreast of each other until the end, or one had to take the lead. Suddenly, to White Tail’s surprise, Young Black Buck slowed down, and said:
“We’re on even terms up to this point, White Tail. Suppose we rest awhile, and then go on. The woods are so beautiful here, and I want to see what kind of a place Puma lives in. He’s around here somewhere, I suppose.”
“Yes, I came here one day with Father Buck, and he showed me where Puma was. I smelt him and heard him.”
“How exciting!” exclaimed Young Black Buck. “I wonder if we’ll hear and smell him today. I want to know what he looks like.”
“I’m not so interested in that,” laughed White Tail. “I don’t want to get so close to him that he can see me.”
“No, but we might see him, and then steal silently away without being caught.”
White Tail wasn’t so sure of that. He had a wholesome dread of Puma’s hunting powers.
“We might stumble upon him and he see us first,” he added. “He’s very sly, and can hide so no one can see him.”
“But we could smell him first.”
“Not if we were on the wrong side of the wind. Have you noticed which way the wind is blowing?”