BROWN BROTHER
For some distance the silvery thread of the Little Vermilion crept between low banks lined with half-grown fir and spruce, and clumps of wild cherry, through which the sunlight sifted to the ground in innumerable flecks of light and shadow. On the north bank, in the densest part of the thicket, lay a fawn, his dappled coat like a garment of invisibility against the sun-flecked background of brown leaves. The little animal lay as motionless as the mossy old log at his back, but the brown eyes looked out upon the forest world with wonder and keen interest.
Suddenly the sensitive ears came forward at the crackling of a twig and the fawn half rose to his feet. The newcomer was not the mother deer, however, and the fawn shrank noiselessly back, though he continued to watch with interest. He had never seen a man before and the sight filled him with wonder.
The Hermit, with his bag of roots on his back, would have passed by unheeding had not a troublesome gnat crept into the fawn's nostril, causing him to sneeze. The faint sound caught the man's keen ear and, like one of the wilderness folk, he instantly became immovable, every sense alert. His glance at once sought the thicket, but it was several moments before he saw the fawn, so closely did the little animal's colors blend with the background. The man found himself staring into a pair of great, appealing brown eyes, wide with interest but containing no fear.
Very slowly, pausing at every step, the Hermit moved forward until he stood close to the little creature. Then he stretched forth his hand. Instantly the fawn thrust out his delicate muzzle and licked the outstretched hand, finding it very palatable with its faint taste of salt. The Hermit then drew from his pocket a lump of sugar which the fawn eagerly devoured, nosing about for more.
As the Hermit sat on the end of the log, gently stroking the velvety ears of the fawn who nestled confidingly against him, he suddenly became aware of another figure in this little woodland scene. Looking up he encountered the gaze of a pair of great brown eyes, wide with terror. The doe had returned to find her baby being fondled by one of the dreaded man-creatures, a sight which caused her to tremble in every limb.
Instantly, with a hoarse cry of danger, she threw up her head and bounded away, her tail carried high, showing the white flag as a signal to the little one to follow. From the time a fawn comes into the world he learns to obey this signal and now, instinctively, he sprang to his feet. Then the Hermit held out his hand and the fawn stopped perplexed. Again came the warning cry but the little animal was licking the man's palm and made no movement to obey.
The Hermit felt a thrill of pride at the trust shone in him by this beautiful woodland creature. He was sorely tempted to prolong the pleasure of the moment but, knowing that the fawn's life might some day depend upon his instant response to the doe's signal, he felt that he had no right to allow the little creature to remain. Accordingly, with a last pat he sprang to his feet, clapping his hands sharply. Fear leaped at once into the brown eyes which had been raised so trustingly to his, and the Hermit felt a stab of pain at the sight; yet, knowing that trust in mankind is scarcely an asset to a fawn, he hardened his heart and said aloud, "Go, little Brown Brother. Never desert the flag."