The hummingbird flew along the bank.
“Please tell us,” the young ducks cried, “please tell us, have you seen our mother?”
“Srrri,” cried the hummingbird shrilly, and flew past sparkling, “what has she got to do with me?”
Bambi turned and went away. He wandered through a whole sea of goldenrod, passed through a grove of young beeches, crossed through old hazel thickets until he reached the edge of the deep ditch. He roamed around it, hoping to meet the old stag. He had not seen him for a long while, not since Gobo’s death.
Then he caught a glimpse of him from afar and ran to meet him. For a while they walked together in silence, then the old stag asked: “Well, do they still talk about him the way they used to?”
Bambi understood that he referred to Gobo and replied, “I don’t know. I’m nearly alone now.” He hesitated, “But I think of him very often.”
“Really,” said the old stag, “are you alone now?”
“Yes,” said Bambi expectantly, but the old stag remained silent.
They went on. Suddenly the old stag stopped. “Don’t you hear anything?” he asked.
Bambi listened. He didn’t hear anything.
“Come,” cried the old stag and hurried forward. Bambi followed him. The stag stopped again. “Don’t you hear anything yet?” he asked.
Then Bambi heard a rustling that he did not understand. It sounded like branches being bent down and repeatedly springing up again. Something was beating the earth dully and irregularly.
Bambi wanted to flee but the old stag cried, “Come with me,” and ran in the direction of the noise. Bambi at his side ventured to ask, “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“It’s terribly dangerous,” the old stag answered mysteriously.
Soon they saw branches being pulled and tugged at from below and shaken violently. They went nearer and saw that a little trail ran through the middle of the bushes.
Friend Hare was lying on the ground. He flung himself from side to side and writhed. Then he lay still and writhed again. Each of his motions pulled at the branches over him.
Bambi noticed a dark threadlike leash. It ran right from the branch to Friend Hare and was twisted around his neck.
Friend Hare must have heard someone coming, for he flung himself wildly into the air and fell to the ground. He tried to escape and rolled, jerking and writhing in the grass.
“Lie still,” the old stag commanded. Then sympathetically, with a gentle voice that went to Bambi’s heart, he repeated in his ear, “Be easy, Friend Hare, it’s I. Don’t move now. Lie perfectly still.”
The Hare lay motionless, flat on the ground. His throttled breath rattled softly in his throat.
The old stag took the branch between his teeth, and twisted it. He bent down. Then he walked around putting his weight cunningly against it. He held it to the earth with his hoof and snapped it with a single blow of his antlers.
Then he nodded encouragingly to the Hare. “Lie still,” he said, “even if I hurt you.”
Holding his head on one side, he laid one prong of his antlers close to the Hare’s neck and pressed into the fur behind his ear. He made an effort and nodded. The Hare began to writhe.
The old stag immediately drew back. “Lie still,” he commanded, “it’s a question of life and death for you.” He began over again. The Hare lay still gasping. Bambi stood close by, speechless with amazement.
One of the old stag’s antlers, pressing against the Hare’s fur, had slipped under the noose. The old stag was almost kneeling and twisted his head as though he were charging. He drove his antlers deeper and deeper under the noose, which gave at last and began to loosen.
The Hare could breathe again and his terror and pain burst from him instantly. “E‑e‑eh!” he cried bitterly.
The old stag stopped. “Keep quiet!” he cried, reproaching him gently, “keep quiet.” His mouth was close to the Hare’s shoulder, his antlers lay with a prong between the spoon-like ears. It looked as if he had spitted the Hare.
“How can you be so stupid as to cry at this time?” he grumbled gently. “Do you want the fox to come? Do you? I thought not. Keep quiet then.”
He continued to work away, slowly exerting all his strength. Suddenly the noose broke with a loud snap. The Hare slipped out and was free, without realizing it for a moment. He took a step and sat down again dazed. Then he hopped away, slowly and timidly at first, then faster and faster. Presently he was running with wild leaps.
Bambi looked after him. “Without so much as a thank you,” he exclaimed in surprise.
“He’s still terrified,” said the old stag.
The noose lay on the ground. Bambi touched it gently. It creaked, terrifying Bambi. That was a sound such as he had never heard in the woods.
“He?” asked Bambi softly.
The old stag nodded.
They walked on together in silence. “Take care when you’re going along a trail,” said the old stag, “test all the branches. Prod them on all sides of you with your antlers. And turn back at once if you hear that creak. And when you’ve shed your antlers be doubly cautious. I never use trails any more.”
Bambi sank into troubled thought.
“He isn’t here,” he whispered to himself in profound astonishment.
“No, He’s not in the forest now,” the old stag answered.
“And yet He is here,” said Bambi shaking his head.
The old stag went on and his voice was full of bitterness. “How did your Gobo put it … ? Didn’t Gobo tell you He is all-powerful and all-good.”
“He was good to Gobo,” Bambi whispered.
The old stag stopped. “Do you believe that, Bambi?” he asked sadly. For the first time he had called Bambi by his name.
“I don’t know,” cried Bambi hurt, “I don’t understand it.”
The old stag said slowly,
