“Mother and Faline had to go on,” Gobo answered resignedly. He spoke softly, but as seriously and as well as a grown deer. “They had to leave me here. I fell down. You must go on, too, Bambi.”
“Get up,” cried Bambi. “Get up, Gobo! You’ve rested long enough. There’s not a minute to lose now. Get up and come with me!”
“No, leave me,” Gobo answered quietly. “I can’t stand up. It’s impossible. I’d like to, but I’m too weak.”
“What will happen to you?” Bambi persisted.
“I don’t know. Probably I’ll die,” said Gobo simply.
The uproar began again and re-echoed. New crashes of thunder followed. Bambi shrank together. Suddenly a branch snapped. Young Karus pounded swiftly through the snow, galloping ahead of the din.
“Run,” he called when he saw Bambi. “Don’t stand there if you can run!” He was gone in a flash and his headlong flight carried Bambi along with it. Bambi was hardly aware that he had begun to run again and only after an interval did he say, “Good-by, Gobo.” But he was already too far away. Gobo could no longer hear him.
Bambi was hardly aware that he had begun to run again.
Bambi was hardly aware that he had begun to run again.
Bambi was hardly aware that he had begun to run again.
He ran till nightfall through the woods that was filled with shouting and thunder. As darkness closed in, it grew quiet. Soon a light wind carried away the horrible scent that spread everywhere. But the excitement remained.
The first friend whom Bambi saw again was Ronno. He was limping more than ever.
“Over in the oak grove the fox has a burning fever from his wound,” Ronno said. “I just passed him. He’s suffering terribly. He keeps biting the snow and the ground.”
“Have you seen my mother?” asked Bambi.
“No,” answered Ronno evasively, and walked quickly away.
Later during the night Bambi met old Nettla with Faline. All three were delighted to meet.
“Have you seen my mother?” asked Bambi.
“No,” Faline answered. “I don’t even know where my own mother is.”
“Well,” said old Nettla cheerfully. “Here’s a nice mess. I was so glad that I didn’t have to bother with children any more and now I have to look after two at once. I’m heartily grateful.”
Bambi and Faline laughed.
They talked about Gobo. Bambi told how he had found him, and they grew so sad they began to cry. But old Nettla would not have them crying. “Before everything else you have got to get something to eat. I never heard of such a thing. You haven’t had a bite to eat this livelong day!”
She led them to places where there were still a few leaves that had not completely withered. Old Nettla was wonderfully gentle. She ate nothing herself, but made Bambi and Faline eat heartily. She pawed away the snow from the grassy spots and ordered them to eat with, “The grass is good here.” Or else she would say, “No, wait. We’ll find something better farther on.” But between whiles she would grumble. “It’s perfectly ridiculous the trouble children give you.”
Suddenly they saw Aunt Ena coming and rushed towards her. “Aunt Ena,” cried Bambi. He had seen her first. Faline was beside herself with joy and bounded around her. “Mother,” she cried. But Ena was weeping and nearly dead from exhaustion.
“Gobo is gone,” she cried. “I’ve looked for him. I went to the little place where he lay when he broke down in the snow ... there was nothing there ... he is gone ... my poor little Gobo....”
Old Nettla grumbled, “If you had looked for his tracks it would have been more sensible than crying,” she said.
“There weren’t any tracks,” said Aunt Ena. “But ... His ... tracks were there. He found Gobo.”
She was silent. Then Bambi asked despondently, “Aunt Ena, have you seen my mother?”
“No,” answered Aunt Ena gently.
Bambi never saw his mother again.
Atlast the willows shed their catkins. Everything was turning green, but the young leaves on the trees and bushes were still tiny. Glowing with the soft, early morning light they looked fresh and smiling like children who have just awakened from sleep.
Bambi was standing in front of a hazel bush, beating his new antlers against the wood. It was very pleasant to do that. And an absolute necessity besides, since skin and hide still covered his splendid antlers. The skin had to come off, of course, and no sensible creature would ever wait until it split of its own accord. Bambi pounded his antlers till the skin split and long strips of it dangled about his ears. As he pounded on the hazel stems again and again, he felt how much stronger his antlers were than the wood. This feeling shot through him in a rush of power and pride. He beat more fiercely on the hazel bush and tore its bark into long pieces. The white body of the tree showed naked and quickly turned a rusty red in the open air. But Bambi paid no attention to that. He saw the bright wood of the tree flash under his strokes and it heartened him. A whole row of hazel bushes bore traces of his work.
“Well, you are nearly grown now,” said a cheerful voice close by.
Bambi tossed his head and looked around him. There sat the squirrel observing him in a friendly way. From overhead came a short, shrill laugh, “Ha! Ha!”
Bambi and the squirrel were both half frightened. But the woodpecker who was clinging to an oak trunk called down, “Excuse me, but I always have to laugh when I see you deer acting like that.”
“Excuse me,” said the woodpecker, “but I always have to laugh when I see you deer acting like that.”
“Excuse me,” said the woodpecker, “but I always have to laugh when I see you deer acting like that.”
“Excuse me,” said the woodpecker, “but I always have to laugh when I see you deer acting like that.”
“What is there to laugh at?” asked Bambi politely.
“O!” said the woodpecker, “you go at things in such a wrong-headed way. In the first place, you ought to try big trees, for you can’t get anything out of those little wisps of hazel stalks.”
“What should I get out of them?” Bambi asked.
“Bugs,” said the woodpecker with a laugh. “Bugs and grubs. Look, do like this.” He drummed on the oak trunk, tack! tack! tack! tack!
The squirrel rushed up and scolded him. “What are you talking about?” he said. “The Prince isn’t looking for bugs and grubs.”
“Why not?” said the woodpecker in high glee. “They taste fine.” He bit a bug in half, swallowed it and began drumming again.
“You don’t understand,” the squirrel went on scolding. “A noble lord like that has far other, far higher aims. You’re only casting reflection on yourself by such talk.”
“It’s all the same to me,” answered the woodpecker. “A fig for higher aims,” he cried cheerfully and fluttered away. The squirrel bustled down again.
“Don’t you remember me?” he said putting on a pleased expression.
“Very well,” answered Bambi in a friendly way. “Do you live up there?” he asked pointing to the oak.
The squirrel looked at him good-humoredly.
“You’re mixing me up with my grandmother,” he said. “I knew you were mixing me up with her. My grandmother used to live up there when you were just a baby, Prince Bambi. She often told me about you. The ferret killed her long ago, last winter, you may remember it.”
“Yes,” Bambi nodded. “I’ve heard about it.”
“Well, afterwards my father settled here,” the squirrel went on. He sat erect and held both forepaws politely over his white chest. “But maybe you’ve got me mixed up with my father, too. Did you know my father?”
“I’m sorry,” Bambi replied. “But I never had that pleasure.”
“I thought so,” the squirrel exclaimed satisfied. “Father was so surly and so shy. He had nothing to do with anybody.”
“Where is he now?” Bambi inquired.
“O,” said the squirrel, “the owl caught him a month ago. Yes.... And now I’m living up there myself. I’m quite content, since I was born up there.”
Bambi turned to go.
“Wait,” cried the squirrel quickly, “I didn’t mean to talk about all that. I wanted to say something quite different.”
Bambi stopped. “What is it?” he asked patiently.
“Yes,” said the squirrel, “what is it?” He thought a little while and then gave a quick skip and sat erect, balancing with his splendid tail. He looked at Bambi. “Right you are,” he chattered on. “Now I know what it was. I wanted to say that your antlers are almost grown now, and that you are going to be a remarkably handsome person.”
“Do you really think so?” said Bambi joyfully.
“Remarkably handsome,” cried the squirrel, and pressed his forepaws rapturously against his white chest. “So tall, so stately and with such long bright prongs to your antlers. You don’t often see the like.”
“Really?” Bambi asked. He was so delighted that he immediately began to beat the hazel stems again. He tore off long ribbons of bark.
All the while the squirrel kept on talking. “I must say that very few have antlers like those at your age. It doesn’t seem possible. I saw you several times from a distance last summer, and I can hardly believe that you’re the same creature, you were such a thin little shaver then.”
Bambi suddenly grew silent. “Good-by,” he said hastily. “I have to go now.” And he ran off.
He didn’t like to be reminded of last summer. He had had a difficult time of it since then. At first, after his mother’s disappearance, he had felt quite lost. The long winter was interminable. Spring came hesitatingly and it was late before things began to turn green. Without old Nettla Bambi might not even have pulled through at all, but she looked after him and helped him where she could. In spite of that he was alone a good deal.
He missed Gobo at every turn; poor Gobo, who was dead too, like the rest of them. Bambi thought of him often during that winter, and for the first time he really began to appreciate how good and lovable Gobo had been.
He seldom saw Faline. She stayed with her mother most of the time, and seemed to have grown unusually shy. Later when it had finally grown warm Bambi began to feel his old self once more. He flourished his first antler on high and was very proud of it. But bitter disappointment soon followed.
The other bucks chased him whenever they saw him. They drove him away angrily. They would not let him come near them until finally he was afraid to take a step for fear of being caught. He was afraid to show himself anywhere and slunk along hidden trails in a very downcast frame of mind.
As the summer days grew warmer a remarkable restlessness seized him. His heart felt more and more oppressed with a sense of longing that was both pleasant and painful. Whenever he chanced to see Faline or one of her friends, though only at a distance, a rush of incomprehensible excitement crept over him. Often it happened that he recognized her track, or the air he snuffed told him she was near. Then he would feel himself irresistibly drawn towards her. But when he gave way to his desire he always came to grief. Either he met no one and, after wandering around for a long while, had to admit that they were avoiding him, or he ran across one of the bucks who immediately sprang at him, beat and kicked him and chased him disgracefully away. Ronno and Karus had treated him worst of all. No, that hadn’t been a happy time.
And now the squirrel had stupidly reminded him of it. Suddenly he became quite wild and started to run. The tit-mice and hedge sparrows flitted, frightened, through the bushes as he passed, and asked each other in a fluster, “What was that?” Bambi did not hear them. A couple of magpies chattered nervously, “What happened?” The jay cried angrily, “What is the matter with you?” Bambi paid no attention to him. Overhead the yellow-bird sang from tree to tree, “Good morning, I’m ha-appy.” Bambi did not answer. The thicket was very bright and shot through with sunbeams. Bambi did not stop to think about such things.
Suddenly there was a loud whir of wings. A whole rainbow of gorgeous colors flashed from under Bambi’s very feet and shone so close to his eyes that he stopped, dazzled. It was Jonello, the pheasant. He had flown up in terror, for Bambi had nearly stepped on him. He fled away scolding.
“I never heard of such a thing,” he cried in his split, cackling voice. Bambi stood still in astonishment and stared after him.
“It turned out all right this time, but it really was inconsiderate,” said a soft, twittering voice close to the ground. It was Jonellina, the pheasant’s wife. She was sitting on the ground, hovering over her eggs. “My husband was terribly frightened,” she went on in an irritable tone. “And so was I. But I don’t dare stir from this spot. I wouldn’t stir from this spot no matter what happened. You could step on me and I wouldn’t move.”
Bambi was a little embarrassed. “I beg your pardon,” he stammered, “I didn’t mean to do it.”
“O, not at all,” the pheasant’s wife replied. “It was nothing so dreadful after all. But my husband and I are so nervous at present. You can understand why....”
Bambi didn’t understand why at all and went on. He was quieter now. The forest sang around him. The light grew more radiant and warmer. The leaves on the bushes, the grass underfoot and the moist, steaming earth began to smell more sweetly. Bambi’s young strength swelled within him and streamed through all his limbs so that he walked around stiffly with awkward restrained movements like a mechanical thing.
He went up to a low alder shrub and, lifting his feet high, beat on the earth with such savage blows that the dirt flew. His two sharp-pointed hoofs cut the turf that grew there. They scraped away the wood-vetch and leeks, the violets and snowbells, till the bare earth was furrowed in front of him. Every blow sounded dully.
Two moles, who were grubbing among the tangled roots of an old sycamore tree, grew anxious and, looking out, saw Bambi.
“That’s a ridiculous way to do things,” said one mole. “Who ever heard of anybody digging that way?”
The other mole drew down one corner of his mouth in a scornful sneer. “He doesn’t know anything, you can see that right off,” he said. “But that’s the way it is when people meddle with things they know nothing about.”
Suddenly Bambi listened, tossed up his head, listened again, and peered through the leaves. A flash of red showed through the branches. The prongs of an antler gleamed indistinctly. Bambi snorted. Whoever it might be who was circling around him, whether it was Karus or somebody else, didn’t matter. “Forward!” thought Bambi as he charged. “I’ll show them that I’m not afraid of them,” he thought as though suddenly exultant. “I’ll show them that they’d better look out for me.”
The branches rustled with the fury of his charge, the bushes cracked and broke. Then Bambi saw the other deer right in front of him. He did not recognize him, for everything was swimming before his eyes. He thought of nothing but “Forward!” His antlers lowered, he rushed on. All his strength was concentrated in his shoulders. He was ready for the blow. Then he smelt his opponent’s hide. But he saw nothing ahead of him but the red wall of his flank. Then the other stag made a very slight turn and Bambi, not meeting the resistance he expected, charged past him into the empty air. He nearly went head over heels. He staggered, pulled himself together and made ready for a fresh onslaught.
Then he recognized the old stag.
Bambi was so astonished that he lost his self-possession. He was ashamed to run away as he would have liked to do. But he was also ashamed to stay there. He didn’t move.
“Well?” asked the old stag, quietly and gently. His voice was so frank and yet so commanding it pierced Bambi to the heart. He was silent.
“Well?” the old stag repeated.
“I thought ...” Bambi stammered, “I thought ... it was Ronno ... or ...” He stopped and risked a shy glance at the old stag. And this glance confused him still more. The old stag stood motionless and powerful. His head had turned completely white by now, and his proud dark eyes glowed in their depths.
“Why don’t you charge me...?” the old stag asked.
Bambi looked at him, filled with a wonderful ecstasy, and shaken by a mysterious tremor. He wanted to cry out, “It’s because I love you,” but he merely answered, “I don’t know....”
The old stag looked at him. “It’s a long time since I’ve seen you,” he said. “You’ve grown big and strong.”
Bambi did not answer. He trembled with joy. The old stag went on examining him critically. Then he came unexpectedly up to Bambi who was terribly frightened.
“Act bravely,” said the old stag.
He turned around and in the next moment had disappeared. Bambi remained in that place for a long while.
Itwas summer and sizzling hot. The same longing he had felt before began to stir again in Bambi. But much more strongly now than then. It seethed in his blood and made him restless. He strayed far afield.
One day he met Faline. He met her quite unexpectedly, for his thoughts were so confused, his senses so clouded by the restless desire that raged within him, that he did not even recognize Faline. She was standing in front of him. Bambi stared at her speechless for a while. Then he said as though fascinated, “How beautiful you have grown, Faline!”
“So you recognized me again?” Faline replied.
“How could I help recognizing you?” cried Bambi. “Didn’t we grow up together?”
Faline sighed. “It’s a long time since we’ve seen each other,” she said. Then she added, “People grow to be strangers,” but she was already using her gay bantering tone again. They remained together.
“I used to walk on this path with my mother when I was a child,” Bambi said after a while.
“It leads to the meadow,” said Faline.
“I saw you for the first time on the meadow,” said Bambi a little solemnly. “Do you remember?”
“Yes,” Faline replied. “Gobo and me.” She sighed softly and said, “Poor Gobo....”
Bambi repeated, “Poor Gobo.”
Then they began to talk about old times and asked each other every minute, “Do you remember?” Each saw that the other still remembered everything. And they were both pleased at that.
“Do you remember how we used to play tag on the meadow?” Bambi reminisced.
“Yes, it was like this,” said Faline and she was off like an arrow. At first Bambi hung back, somewhat surprised, and then he rushed after her. “Wait! wait!” he cried joyously.
“I can’t wait,” teased Faline, “I’m in too much of a hurry.” And bounding lightly away, she ran in a circle through the grass and bushes. At last Bambi caught up with her and barred the way. Then they stood quietly side by side. They laughed contentedly. Suddenly Faline leaped into the air as though some one had hit her, and bounded off anew. Bambi rushed after her. Faline raced around and around, always managing to elude him.
At last Bambi caught up with her and barred the way.
At last Bambi caught up with her and barred the way.
At last Bambi caught up with her and barred the way.
“Stop!” Bambi panted. “I want to ask you something.”
Faline stopped.
“What do you want to ask me?” she inquired curiously.
Bambi was silent.
“O, so you’re only fooling me,” said Faline, and started to turn away.
“No,” said Bambi quickly. “Stop! stop! I wanted ... I wanted to ask you ... do you love me, Faline?...”
She looked at him more curiously than before, and a little guardedly. “I don’t know,” she said.
“But you must know,” Bambi insisted. “I know very well that I love you. I love you terribly, Faline. Tell me, don’t you love me?”
“Maybe I do,” she answered coyly.
“And will you stay with me?” Bambi demanded passionately.
“If you ask me nicely,” Faline said happily.
“Please do, Faline, dear, beautiful, beloved Faline,” cried Bambi beside himself with love. “Do you hear me? I want you with all my heart.”
“Then I’ll certainly stay with you,” said Faline gently, and ran away.
In ecstasy, Bambi darted after her again. Faline fled straight across the meadow, swerved about and vanished into the thicket. But as Bambi swerved to follow her there was a fierce rustling in the bushes and Karus sprang out.
“Halt!” he cried.
Bambi did not hear him. He was too busy with Faline. “Let me pass,” he said hurriedly, “I haven’t time for you.”
“Get out,” Karus commanded angrily. “Get away from here this minute or I’ll shake you until there’s no breath left in your body. I forbid you to follow Faline.”
The memory of last summer when he had been so often and so miserably hunted awakened in Bambi. Suddenly he became enraged. He did not say a word, but without waiting any longer rushed at Karus with his antlers lowered.
His charge was irresistible and, before he knew what had happened, Karus was lying in the grass. He was up again quicker than a flash, but was no sooner on his feet than a new attack made him stagger.
“Bambi,” he cried. “Bam ...” he tried to cry again, but a third blow, that glanced off his shoulder, nearly choked him with pain.
Karus sprang to one side in order to elude Bambi who came rushing on again. Suddenly he felt strangely weak. At the same time he realized with a qualm that this was a life and death struggle. Cold terror seized him. He turned to flee from the silent Bambi who came rushing after him. Karus knew that Bambi was furious and would kill him without mercy, and that thought numbed his wits completely. He fled from the path and, with a final effort, burst through the bushes. His one hope was of escape.
All at once Bambi ceased chasing him. Karus did not even notice this in his terror, and kept straight on through the bushes as fast as he could go. Bambi had stopped because he had heard Faline’s shrill call. He listened as she called again in distress and fear. Suddenly he faced about and rushed back.
When he reached the meadow he saw Ronno pursuing Faline who had fled into the thicket.
“Ronno,” cried Bambi. He did not even realize that he had called.
Ronno, who could not run very fast because of his lameness, stood still.
“O, there’s our little Bambi,” he said scornfully, “do you want something from me?”
“I do,” said Bambi quietly but in a voice which control and overpowering anger had completely altered. “I want you to let Faline alone and to leave here immediately.”
“Is that all?” sneered Ronno. “What an insolent gamin you’ve got to be. I wouldn’t have thought it possible.”
“Ronno,” said Bambi still more softly, “it’s for your own sake. If you don’t go now you’ll be glad to run later, but then you’ll never be able to run again.”
“Is that so?” cried Ronno in a rage. “Do you dare to talk to me like that? It’s because I limp, I suppose. Most people don’t even notice it. Or maybe you think I’m afraid of you, too, because Karus was such a pitiful coward. I give you fair warning....”
“No, Ronno,” Bambi broke in, “I’ll do all the warning. Go!” His voice trembled. “I always liked you, Ronno. I always thought you were very clever and respected you because you were older than I am. I tell you once and for all, go. I haven’t any patience left.”
“It’s a pity you have so little patience,” Ronno said with a sneer, “a great pity for you, my boy. But be easy, I’ll soon finish you off. You won’t have long to wait. Maybe you’ve forgotten how often I used to chase you.”
At the thought of that Bambi had nothing more to say. Nothing could hold him back. Like a wild beast he tore at Ronno who met him with his head lowered. They charged together with a crash. Ronno stood firm but wondered why Bambi did not blench back. The sudden charge had dazed him, for he had not expected that Bambi would attack him first. Uneasily he felt Bambi’s giant strength and saw that he must keep himself well in hand.
He tried to turn a trick as they stood forehead pressed against forehead. He suddenly shifted his weight so that Bambi lost his balance and staggered forward.
Bambi braced with his hind legs and hurled himself on Ronno with redoubled fury before he had time to regain his footing. A prong broke from Ronno’s antlers with a loud snap. Ronno thought his forehead was shattered. The sparks danced before his eyes and there was a roaring in his ears. The next moment a terrific blow tore open his shoulder. His breath failed him and he fell to the ground with Bambi standing over him furiously.
“Let me go,” Ronno groaned.
Bambi charged blindly at him. His eyes flashed. He seemed to have no thought of mercy.
“Please stop,” whined Ronno pitifully. “Don’t you know that I’m lame? I was only joking. Spare me. Can’t you take a joke?”
Bambi let him alone without a word. Ronno rose wearily. He was bleeding and his legs tottered. He slunk off in silence.
Bambi started for the thicket to look for Faline, but she came out of her own accord. She had been standing at the edge of the woods and had seen it all.
“That was wonderful,” she said laughingly. Then she added softly and seriously, “I love you.”
They walked on very happily together.
Oneday they went to look for the little clearing in the depth of the woods where Bambi had last met the old stag. Bambi told Faline all about the old stag and grew enthusiastic.
“Maybe we’ll meet him again,” he said. “I’d like you to see him.”
“It would be nice,” said Faline boldly. “I’d really like to chat with him once myself.” But she wasn’t telling the truth for, though she was very inquisitive, she was afraid of the old stag.
The twilight was already dusky gray. Sunset was near.
They walked softly side by side where the leaves hung quivering on the shrubs and bushes and permitted a clear view in all directions. Presently there was a rustling sound near by. They stopped and looked towards it. Then the old stag marched slowly and powerfully through the bushes, into the clearing. In the drab twilight he seemed like a gigantic gray shadow.
Faline uttered an involuntary cry. Bambi controlled himself. He was terrified, too, and a cry stuck in his throat. But Faline’s voice sounded so helpless that pity seized him and made him want to comfort her.
“What’s the matter?” he whispered solicitously, while his voice quavered, “what’s the matter with you? He isn’t going to hurt us.”
Faline simply shrieked again.
“Don’t be so terribly upset, beloved,” Bambi pleaded. “It’s ridiculous to be so frightened by him. After all he’s one of our own family.”
But Faline wouldn’t be comforted. She stood stock-still, staring at the stag who went along unconcerned. Then she shrieked and shrieked.
“Pull yourself together,” Bambi begged. “What will he think of us?”
But Faline was not to be quieted. “He can think what he likes,” she cried bleating again. “Ah-oh! Baoh!... It’s terrible to be so big!”
She bleated again, “Baoh! Leave me,” she went on, “I can’t help it, I have to bleat. Baoh, baoh, baoh!”
The stag was standing in the little clearing, looking for tidbits in the grass.
Fresh courage came to Bambi who had one eye on the hysterical Faline, the other on the placid stag. With the encouragement he had given Faline he had conquered his own fears. He began to reproach himself for the pitiful state he was in whenever he saw the old stag, a state of mingled terror and excitement, admiration and submissiveness.
“It’s perfectly absurd,” he said with painful decision. “I’m going straight over to tell him who I am.”
“Don’t,” cried Faline. “Don’t! Baoh! Something terrible will happen. Baoh!”
“I’m going anyway,” answered Bambi.
The stag who was feasting so calmly, not paying the slightest attention to the weeping Faline, seemed altogether too haughty to him. He felt offended and humiliated. “I’m going,” he said. “Be quiet. You’ll see, nothing will happen. Wait for me here.”
He went, but Faline did not wait. She hadn’t the least desire or courage to do so. She faced about and ran away crying, for she thought it was the best thing she could do. Bambi could hear her going farther and farther away, bleating, “Baoh! Baoh!”
Bambi would gladly have followed her. But that was no longer possible. He pulled himself together and went forward.
Through the branches he saw the stag standing in the clearing, his head close to the ground. Bambi felt his heart pounding as he stepped out.
The stag immediately lifted his head and looked at him. Then he gazed absently straight ahead again. The way in which the stag gazed into space, as though no one else were there, seemed as haughty to Bambi as the way he had stared at him.
The stag immediately lifted his head and looked at him.
The stag immediately lifted his head and looked at him.
The stag immediately lifted his head and looked at him.
Bambi did not know what to do. He had come with the firm intention of speaking to the stag. He wanted to say, “Good day, I am Bambi. May I ask to know your honorable name also?”
Yes, it had all seemed very easy, but now it appeared that the affair was not so simple. What good were the best of intentions now? Bambi did not want to seem ill-bred as he would be if he went off without saying a word. But he did not want to seem forward either, and he would be if he began the conversation.
The stag was wonderfully majestic. It delighted Bambi and made him feel humble. He tried in vain to arouse his courage and kept asking himself, “Why do I let him frighten me? Am I not just as good as he is?” But it was no use. Bambi continued to be frightened and felt in his heart of hearts that he really was not as good as the old stag. Far from it. He felt wretched and had to use all his strength to keep himself steady.
The old stag looked at him and thought, “He’s handsome, he’s really charming, so delicate, so poised, so elegant in his whole bearing. I must not stare at him, though. It really isn’t the thing to do. Besides, it might embarrass him.” So he stared over Bambi’s head into the empty air again.
“What a haughty look,” thought Bambi. “It’s unbearable, the opinion such people have of themselves.”
The stag was thinking, “I’d like to talk to him, he looks so sympathetic. How stupid never to speak to people we don’t know.” He looked thoughtfully ahead of him.
“I might as well be air,” said Bambi to himself. “This fellow acts as though he were the only thing on the face of the earth.”
“What should I say to him?” the old stag was wondering. “I’m not used to talking. I’d say something stupid and make myself ridiculous ... for he’s undoubtedly very clever.”
Bambi pulled himself together and looked fixedly at the stag. “How splendid he is,” he thought despairingly.
“Well, some other time, perhaps,” the stag decided and walked off, dissatisfied but majestic.
Bambi remained filled with bitterness.
Theforest sweltered under a scorching sun. Since it rose it had driven even the tiniest cloudlet from the sky, and shone all alone in the wide blue depths that were pallid now with heat. Over the meadows and the tree-tops the air quivered in glassy, transparent ripples as it does over a flame. Not a leaf was moving, not a blade of grass. The birds were silent and sat hidden among the shady leaves, never stirring from their places. All the paths and trails in the thicket were empty. Not a creature was abroad. The forest lay as though hurt by the blinding light. The earth and the trees, the bushes, the beasts breathed in the intense heat with a kind of sluggish satisfaction.
Bambi was asleep.
He had made merry with Faline all night. He had pranced around with her until broad daylight, and in his bliss had even forgotten to eat. But he had grown so tired that he did not feel hungry any more. His eyes fell shut. He lay down where he happened to be standing in the middle of the bushes, and fell asleep at once.
The bitter acrid odor that streamed from the sun-warmed juniper, and the penetrating scent of spurge laurel, mounted to his head while he slept and gave him new strength. Suddenly he awoke in a daze. Had Faline called him? Bambi looked around. He remembered seeing Faline as he lay down, standing close beside him near the white-thorn, nibbling the leaves. He had supposed she would remain near him, but she was gone. Apparently she had grown tired of being alone by now and was calling for him to come and look for her.
As Bambi listened he wondered how long he could have slept and how often Faline had called. He wasn’t sure. Veils of sleep still clouded his thought.
Then she called again. With a sidewise spring Bambi turned in the direction the sound came from. Then he heard it again. And suddenly he felt perfectly happy. He was wonderfully refreshed, quieted and strengthened, but racked by a terrific appetite.
The call came again clearly, thin as a bird’s twittering, tender and full of longing: “Come, come!” it said.
Yes, that was her voice. That was Faline. Bambi rushed away so fast that the dry branches barely crackled as he burst through the bushes and the hot green leaves scarcely rustled.
But he had to stop short in the midst of his course, and swerve to one side, for the old stag was standing there, barring his path.
Bambi had no time for anything but love. The old stag was indifferent to him now. He would meet him again somewhere later on. He had no time for old stags now, however noble they might be. He had thoughts for Faline alone. He greeted the stag hastily and tried to hurry by.
“Where are you going?” asked the old stag earnestly.
Bambi was somewhat embarrassed and tried to think of an evasion, but he changed his mind and answered truthfully “To her.”
“Don’t go,” said the old stag.
For a second a single angry spark flared up in Bambi’s mind. Not go to Faline? How could the mean old stag ask that? “I’ll simply run off,” Bambi thought. And he looked quickly at the old stag. But the deep look that met him in the old stag’s eyes held him fast. He quivered with impatience but he did not run away.
“She’s calling me,” he said in explanation. He said it in a tone which clearly bleated, “Don’t keep me talking here.”
“No,” said the old stag, “she isn’t calling.”
The call came once again, thin as a bird’s twittering, “Come!”
“Listen,” Bambi cried excitedly, “there it is again.”
“I hear it,” said the old stag, nodding.
“Well, good-by,” Bambi flung back hurriedly.
“Stop!” the old stag commanded.
“What do you want?” cried Bambi, beside himself with impatience. “Let me go. I have no time. Please, Faline is calling.... You ought to see that....”
“I tell you,” the old stag said, “that it isn’t she.”
Bambi was desperate. “But,” he said, “I know her voice.”
“Listen to me,” the old stag went on.
Again the call came. Bambi felt the ground burning under his feet. “Later,” he pleaded, “I’ll come right back.”
“No,” said the old stag sadly, “you’ll never come back, never again.”
The call came again. “I must go! I must go!” cried Bambi who was nearly out of his wits.
“Then,” the old stag declared in a commanding voice, “we’ll go together.”
“Quickly,” cried Bambi and bounded off.
“No, slowly,” commanded the old stag in a voice that forced Bambi to obey. “Stay in back of me. Move one step at a time.”
The old stag began to move forward. Bambi followed, sighing with impatience.
“Listen,” said the old stag without stopping, “no matter how often that call comes, don’t stir from my side. If it’s Faline, you’ll get to hear her soon enough. But it isn’t Faline. Don’t let yourself be tempted. Everything depends now on whether you trust me or not.”
Bambi did not dare to resist, and surrendered in silence.
The old stag advanced slowly and Bambi followed him. O how cleverly the old stag moved! Not a sound came from under his hoofs. Not a leaf was disturbed. Not a twig snapped. And yet they were gliding through thick bushes, slinking through the ancient tangled thicket. Bambi was amazed and had to admire him in spite of his impatience. He had never dreamed that anybody could move like that.
The old stag advanced slowly and Bambi followed him.
The old stag advanced slowly and Bambi followed him.
The old stag advanced slowly and Bambi followed him.
The call came again and again. The old stag stood still, listening and nodding his head. Bambi stood beside him, shaken with desire, and suffering from restraint. He could not understand it at all.
Several times the old stag stopped, although no call had come, and lifted his head, listening and nodding. Bambi heard nothing. The old stag turned away from the direction of the call and made a detour. Bambi raged inwardly because of it.
The call came again and again. At last they drew nearer to it, then still nearer. At last they were quite near.
The old stag whispered, “No matter what you see, don’t move, do you hear? Watch everything I do and act just as I do, cautiously. And don’t lose your head.”
They went a few steps farther and suddenly that sharp, arresting scent that Bambi knew so well struck them full in the face. He swallowed so much of it that he nearly cried out. He stood as though rooted to the ground. For a moment his heart seemed pounding in his throat. The old stag stood calmly beside him and motioned with his eyes.
He was standing there.
He was standing quite close to them leaning against the trunk of an oak, hidden by hazel bushes. He was calling softly, “Come, come!”
Bambi was completely bewildered. He was so terrified that he began to understand only by degrees that it was He who was imitating Faline’s voice. It was He who was calling, “Come, come!”
Cold terror shot through Bambi’s body. The idea of flight gripped him and tugged at his heart.
“Be still,” whispered the old stag quickly and commandingly as if he meant to forestall any outbreak of fear. Bambi controlled himself with an effort.
The old stag looked at him a little scornfully at first, it seemed to Bambi. He noticed it in spite of the state he was in. But the stag changed at once to a serious and kindly look.
Bambi peered out with blinking eyes to where He was standing, and felt as if he could not bear His horrible presence much longer.
As if he had read this thought, the old stag whispered to him, “Let’s go back,” and turned about.
They glided away cautiously. The old stag moved with a marvelous zigzag course whose purpose Bambi did not understand. Again he followed with painfully controlled impatience. The longing for Faline had harassed him on the way over; now the impulse to flee was beating through his veins.
But the old stag walked on slowly, stopping and listening. He would begin a new zigzag, then stop again, going very slowly ahead.
By this time they were far from the danger spot. “If he stops again,” thought Bambi, “it ought to be all right to speak to him by now, and I’ll thank him.”
But at that moment the old stag vanished under his very eyes into a thick tangle of dogwood shrubs. Not a leaf stirred, not a twig snapped as the stag slipped away.
Bambi followed and tried to get through as noiselessly, and to avoid every sound with as much skill. But he was not so lucky. The leaves swished gently, the boughs bent against his flanks and sprang up again with a loud twang; dry branches broke against his chest with sharp piercing snaps.
“He saved my life,” Bambi kept thinking. “What can I say to him?”
But the old stag was nowhere to be seen. Bambi came out of the bushes. Around him was a sea of yellow, flowering goldenrod. He raised his head and looked around. Not a leaf was moving as far as he could see. He was all alone.
Freed from all control, the impulse to flee suddenly carried him away. The goldenrods parted with a loud swish beneath his bounding hoofs as though under the stroke of a scythe.
After wandering about for a long time he found Faline. He was breathless, tired and happy and deeply stirred.
“Please, beloved,” he said, “please don’t ever call me again. We’ll search until we find each other, but please don’t ever call me ... for I can’t resist your voice.”
A fewdays later they were walking carefree together through an oak thicket on the far side of the meadow. They had to cross the meadow in order to reach their old trail where the tall oak stood.
As the bushes grew thinner around them they stopped and peered out. Something red was moving near the oak. Both of them looked at it.
“Who can it be?” whispered Bambi.
“Probably Ronno or Karus,” said Faline.
Bambi doubted it. “They don’t dare come near me any more,” Bambi said, peering sharply ahead. “No,” he decided, “that’s not Karus or Ronno. It’s a stranger.”
Faline agreed, surprised, and very curious. “Yes,” she said, “it’s a stranger. I see it, too, now. How curious!”
They watched him.
“How carelessly he acts,” exclaimed Faline.
“Stupid,” said Bambi, “really stupid. He acts like a little child, as if there were no danger.”
“Let’s go over,” Faline proposed. Her curiosity was getting the better of her.
“All right,” Bambi answered. “Let’s go, I want to have a better look at the fellow.”
They took a few steps and then Faline stopped. “Suppose he wants to fight you,” she said. “He’s strong.”
“Bah,” said Bambi holding his head cocked and putting on a disdainful air, “look at the little antlers he has. Should I be afraid of that? The fellow is fat and sleek enough, but is he strong? I don’t think so. Come along.”
They went on.
The stranger was busy nibbling meadow grass and did not notice them until they were a good way across the meadow. Then he ran forward to meet them. He gave joyful playful skips that made a curiously childish impression. Bambi and Faline stopped, surprised, and waited for him. When he was a few steps off he stood still likewise.
After a while he asked, “Don’t you know me?”
Bambi had lowered his head prepared for battle. “Do you know us?” he retorted.
The stranger interrupted him. “Bambi,” he cried reproachfully, yet confidently.
Bambi was startled to hear his name spoken. The sound of that voice stirred an old memory in his heart. But Faline had rushed towards the stranger.
“Gobo,” she cried and became speechless. She stood there silent without moving. She couldn’t breathe.
“Faline,” said Gobo softly, “Faline, sister, you knew me anyway.” He went to her and kissed her mouth. The tears were running down his cheeks. Faline was crying too, and couldn’t speak.