Gobo recollected his childhood paths at once. He was delighted with himself, never realizing that Bambi and Faline were leading him. He looked around at them and called, “How do you like the way I can still find my way around?” They did not say anything, but they exchanged glances again.
Soon afterwards they came to a small leafy hollow. “Look,” cried Faline and glided in. Gobo followed her and stopped. It was the glade in which they were both born and had lived with their mother as little children. Gobo and Faline looked into each other’s eyes. They did not say a word. But Faline kissed her brother gently on the mouth. Then they hurried on.
They walked to and fro for a good hour. The sun shone brighter and brighter through the branches and the forest grew stiller and stiller. It was the time for lying down and resting. But Gobo didn’t feel tired. He walked swiftly ahead, breathing deeply with impatience and excitement, and gazed aimlessly about him. He shrank together whenever a weasel slunk through the bushes at his feet. He nearly stepped on the pheasants, and when they scolded him, flying up with a loud flapping of wings, he was terribly frightened. Bambi marveled at the strange, blind way Gobo moved around.
Presently Gobo stopped and turned to them both. “She isn’t anywhere here,” he cried in despair.
Faline soothed him. “We’ll soon find her,” she said, deeply moved, “soon, Gobo.” She looked at him. He still had that dejected look she knew so well.
“Shall we call her?” she asked smiling. “Shall we call her the way we used to when we were children?”
Bambi went away a few steps. Then he saw Aunt Ena. She had already settled herself to rest and was lying quietly in a nearby hazel bush.
“At last,” he said to himself. At the same moment Gobo and Faline came up. All three of them stood together and looked at Ena. She had raised her head quietly and looked sleepily back at them.
Gobo took a few hesitating steps and cried softly, “Mother.”
She was on her feet in a flash and stood as though transfixed. Gobo sprang to her quickly. “Mother,” he began again. He tried to speak but couldn’t utter a word.
His mother looked deep into his eyes. Her rigid body began to move. Wave after wave of trembling broke over her shoulders and down her back.
She did not ask any questions. She did not want any explanation or history. She kissed Gobo slowly on the mouth. She kissed his cheeks and his neck. She bathed him tirelessly in her kisses, as she had when he was born.
Bambi and Faline had gone away.
XVI
They were all standing around in the middle of the thicket in a little clearing. Gobo was talking to them.
Even Friend Hare was there. Full of astonishment, he would lift one spoon-like ear, listen attentively, and let it fall back, only to lift it again at once.
The magpie was perched on the lowest branch of a young beech and listened in amazement. The jay was sitting restlessly on an ash opposite and screamed every once in a while in wonder.
A few friendly pheasants had brought their wives and children and were stretching their necks in surprise as they listened. At times they would jerk them in again, turning their heads this way and that in speechless wonder.
The squirrel had scurried up and was gesturing, wild with excitement. At times he would slide to the ground, at times he would run up some tree or other. Or he would balance with his tail erect and display his white chest. Every now and again he tried to interrupt Gobo and say something, but he was always told sternly to keep quiet.
Gobo told how he had lain helpless in the snow waiting to die.
“The dogs found me,” he said. “Dogs are terrible. They are certainly the most terrible creatures in the world. Their jaws drip blood and their bark is pitiless and full of anger.” He looked all around the circle and continued, “Well, since then I’ve played with them just as I would with one of you.” He was very proud. “I don’t need to be afraid of them any more, I’m good friends with them now. Nevertheless, when they begin to grow angry, I have a roaring in my ears and my heart stops beating. But they don’t really mean any harm by it and, as I said, I’m a good friend of theirs. But their bark is terribly loud.”
“Go on,” Faline urged.
Gobo looked at her. “Well,” he said, “they would have torn me to pieces, but He came.”
Gobo paused. The others hardly breathed.
“Yes,” said Gobo, “He came. He called off the dogs and they quieted down at once. He called them again and they crouched motionless at His feet. Then He picked me up. I screamed but He petted me. He held me in His arms. He didn’t hurt me. And then He carried me away.”
Faline interrupted him. “What does ‘carry’ mean?” she asked.
Gobo began to explain it in great detail.
“It’s very simple,” Bambi broke in, “look at what the squirrel does when he takes a nut and carries it off.”
The squirrel tried to speak again. “A cousin of mine …” he began eagerly. But the others cried out at once, “Be still, be still, let Gobo go on.”
The squirrel had to keep quiet. He was desperate and, pressing his forepaws against his white chest, he tried to begin a conversation with the magpie. “As I was saying, a cousin of mine …” he began. But the magpie simply turned her back on him.
Gobo told of wonders. “Outside it will be cold and the storm is howling. But inside there’s not a breath of wind and it’s as warm as in summertime,” he said.
“Akh!” screamed
