“No, not for an instant. Oh, what will become of me! Hark! Isn’t that Puma growling?”
“No,” replied White Tail, listening with his head flung back and his nose in the air.
“Then it’s Timber calling, I’m sure it is.”
White Tail listened again. He was trembling himself, for the fright and exhausting run had made him very nervous.
“It’s something, but I don’t think it’s Timber Wolf. He hasn’t had time to run around the end of Black Ravine.”
“But he’ll be here soon,” whined Young Black Buck.
“Then we must be going. We can’t stay here. You must run on three legs. You can do it.”
“Not so fast as Timber Wolf or Puma can run on four legs. Oh, you won’t leave me, White Tail, will you? I shall die of fear if you do. I’ve always been your friend.”
“I won’t leave you yet,” replied White Tail. “Lie down in the bushes, and I will run back and see if I can find Timber or Puma. If they’re coming—”
“Don’t leave me,” interrupted Young Black Buck.