The Story of a Red Deer

by Sir J. W. Fortescue

"Come down with me, come. Oh! merry and free
Is the race from the forest away to the sea.
The pool is before me; I hark to its call
And I hasten my speed for the leap o'er the fall.
The Salmon are waiting impatient below,
I feel them spring upward as over I go.
Come down with me, come; why linger you here?
You know me, the friend of the wild Red-Deer."

Then the voice of the water was broken, for the black and tan hound came bounding down in advance of the rest over the grass to the water, caught view of the Deer where he stood, and throwing up his head bayed loud and deep and long. And other hounds came hurrying down through the wood, speaking quick and short, for they were mad with impatience; and bursting through the fence straight to the black and tan hound they joined their voices in exultation to his. Then a few, a very few, men came up hastening with what speed they might on their weary, hobbling horses, a man on a white horse leading them, and they added their wild yells to the baying of the hounds, while ever and anon the shrill tones of the horn rose high above them all in short, quick, jubilant notes. Soon some of the hounds grew tired of baying in front and flew round to the bank behind him, still yelling fiercely in impotent rage; and the maddening clamour rang far up the valley through the sweet, still evening. The Fallow-Deer huddled themselves close among the trees, and the pigeons hushed their cooing and flew swift and high in the air from the terror of the sound. But the Stag stood unmoved in the midst of the baying ring, with his noble head thrown back and his chin raised scornfully aloft, in all the pride and majesty of defiance.

But all the while the stream kept pressing him downward inch by inch, very gently but very surely. Once a hound, in his impatience, burst through the branches and ran out on the stem of an alder almost on to his back, so that he was obliged to move down still lower. And there the stream pressed him still more strongly, though never unkindly, and he went downward faster than before; and he heard the full voice of the torrent, as it thundered over the fall, chanting to him grand and sonorous in a deep tone of command.

"Nay, tarry no longer; come down, come down
To the pool that invites you, still, peaceful, and brown.
One plunge through the rush of the shivering spray
And the dark, solemn eddies shall bear you away
From the rustle of bubbles, the hissing of foam,
To a haven of rest, and a long, long home.
Come down with me, come; your refuge is near;
I call you, the friend of the wild Red-Deer."

And he heard it and yielded. The water rose higher, and the strength of the current grew more urgent about him, till at length the stream lifted him gently off his weary feet and bore him silently down. For a moment he strove with all his might to stem the smooth, impetuous tide as it swept him on; then he gave himself up to the friendly waters, and throwing his head high in air in a last defiance, he went down swiftly over the fall.

And the wild baying ceased; and he heard nothing but the chorus of the waters in his ears. Once he struggled to raise his head, and the great brown antlers came looming up for a moment through the eddies; but as he passed down to the deep, still pool beyond the fall, the water called to him so kindly that he could not but obey.

"From my wild forest-cradle, through deep and through shoal,
You have followed me far, and have reached to the goal.
Now the gallop is ended, the chase it is run,
The struggle is over, the victory won.
The fall is o'er-leaped and the rapids are passed,
Come rest on my bosom untroubled at last.
Nay, raise not your head, come, bury it here;
No friend like the stream to the wild Red-Deer."

So the waters closed over the stern, sharp antlers, and he bowed his head and was at peace.

Then men came and pulled the great still body out of the water; and they took his head and hung it up in memory of so great a run and so gallant a Stag. But their triumph was only over the empty shell of him, for his spirit had gone to the still brown pool. And indeed the stream has received many another wild deer besides him, which, I suspect, is the reason why ferns, that love the water, take the shape of stags' horns and of harts' tongues. So there he remains; for he had fought his fight and run his course; and he asks for nothing better than to hear the river sing to him all the day long.

RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BUNGAY