“Why, yes, from the right.”
“Then we don’t have to fear anything on that side. We must keep our eyes and ears open on the left.”
“It’s my opinion,” said Young Black Buck slowly, “that Puma’s greatly over-rated. Why, he hasn’t killed one of the herd as long as any one can remember.”
“No, but that’s because Father Buck has been such a wise leader.”
Young Black Buck sniffed in scorn. “I don’t know that he’s been any better or wiser than other leaders,” was the retort. “If my father had been leader Puma or Timber Wolf wouldn’t have caught a deer. They wouldn’t have dared. They’re all afraid of him.”
White Tail felt that this boasting wouldn’t get them anywhere, and would in the end lead to unpleasant words; but he knew that if Puma or Timber Wolf heard it they would laugh in glee.
“If you’re rested suppose we go back,” White Tail said. “We’re going to make quicker time back. I’m going to run my best.”
“And I too. I’m going to beat you. I’m sorry you got tired out, and had to rest. Well, I’m ready.”
White Tail could afford a smile at this remark, for Young Black Buck had made the request to stop for a short time. Tired out! Why, he felt as fresh and strong as when they started. He would punish Young Black Buck by making his defeat as unpleasant as he could.
But before either one could start for the return trip there was a noise among the leaves of the spruce tree under which they were standing, and with visions of Puma crouching among the branches ready to drop down upon them their hearts gave a great bound and almost stood still. In another moment they would have been off like a shot, but there was a flutter of wings, and Downy the Woodpecker, who had made the noise with his beak, spoke.