"Oh, that is difficult for one who has such short legs!" said Karr.
The elk glanced slyly at the dog, who jumped the fence many times a day—little as he was.
He walked over to the fence, and with one spring he was on the other side, without knowing how it happened.
Then Karr and Grayskin went into the forest. It was a beautiful moonlight night in late summer; but in among the trees it was dark, and the elk walked along slowly.
"Perhaps we had better turn back," said Karr. "You, who have never before tramped the wild forest, might easily break your legs." Grayskin moved more rapidly and with more courage.
Karr conducted the elk to a part of the forest where the pines grew so thickly that no wind could penetrate them.
"It is here that your kind are in the habit of seeking shelter from cold and storm," said Karr. "Here they stand under the open skies all winter. But you will fare much better where you are going, for you will stand in a shed, with a roof over your head, like an ox."
Grayskin made no comment, but stood quietly and drank in the strong, piney air.
"Have you anything more to show me, or have I now seen the whole forest?" he asked.
Then Karr went with him to a big marsh, and showed him clods and quagmire.