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The big stranger had understood Sammy's screaming quite as well as Lightfoot. He knew that to run away now would be to prove himself a coward and forever disgrace himself in the eyes of Miss Daintyfoot, for that was the name of the beautiful stranger he had been seeking. He MUST fight. There was no way out of it, he MUST fight.
Behind the small house was a large barn and as I made a nice turn and stop beside the white gate a man in a blue garment that I now know is called overalls, came to the door of the barn. "Hello, Bud. Are Lightfoot and Steady in good condition for a trip across to Turkey-Gulch?" called my Gouverneur Faulkner as he alighted from the car.
Through the long winter many visits were exchanged between Uplands and Chericoke, and once, on a mild February morning, Mrs. Lightfoot drove over in her old coach, with her knitting and her handmaid Mitty, to spend the day.
"He always seems as if he was measuring me for my coffin somehow. Pa-in-law's afraid of him; pa-in-law's, a-hem! never mind, but ma-in-law's a trump, Mrs. Lightfoot." "Indeed my lady was;" and Mrs. Lightfoot owned, with a sigh, that perhaps it had been better for her had she never left her mistress. "No, I do not like thee, Dr. Fell: the reason why I can not tell," continued Mr.
The skin which had covered them grew dry and split, and I rubbed it off on trees and bushes. The little rags you see are what is left, but I will soon be rid of those. Then I shall be ready to fight if need be and will fear no one save man, and will fear him only when he has a terrible gun with him." Lightfoot tossed his head proudly and rattled his wonderful antlers against the nearest tree.
Therefore the night passed gloomily and hungrily, on this lonely, swampy Poppasquash Neck, with water at two sides. As soon as day dawned, Captain Church took his party to a better position, on a brushy little hill just outside the neck. Scarcely had he done so, when they saw an Indian come running. It was Lightfoot. "What news?" Captain Church hailed anxiously.
It was the evening of the day after the closing of the hunting season for Lightfoot the Deer. Jolly, round, red Mr. Sun had gone to bed behind the Purple Hills, and the Black Shadows had crept out across the Big River. Mr. and Mrs. Quack were getting their evening meal among the brown stalks of the wild rice along the edge of the Big River.
They lie with their little necks and heads stretched flat on the ground and do not move so much as a hair. You see, they usually are very obedient, and the first thing their mother teaches them is to keep perfectly still when she leaves them. "When they are a few months old and able to care for themselves a little, the spots disappear. As a rule Mrs. Lightfoot has two babies each spring.
"That stranger is nearly as big as Lightfoot, but it is very plain that he doesn't want to fight," thought Sammy. "He must be a coward." Now the truth is, the stranger was not a coward. He was ready and willing to fight if he had to, but if he could avoid fighting he meant to. You see, big as he was, he wasn't quite so big as Lightfoot, and he knew it.
The hunter continued to watch patiently for Lightfoot, and Lightfoot and Paddy the Beaver watched the hunter. Finally, another visitor appeared at the upper end of the pond a visitor in a wonderful coat of red. It was Reddy Fox. When Reddy Fox arrived at the pond of Paddy the Beaver, the hunter who was hiding there saw him instantly. So did Lightfoot. But no one else did.
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