The Heart of the Forest. 145 



crouch closer in the shadows and watch with bated 

 breath as a roe saunters idly down to cool her parched 

 tongue in a little pool among the boulders. She 

 pauses a moment to browse upon a tuft of bracken. 

 She scents no peril in the air ; her great eyes are calm 

 and fearless. She moves nearer ; she is not twenty 

 yards away. Your foot slips off a stone j it was the 

 slightest movement in the world, but the keen eyes are 

 ware of danger. There is a rush of flying feet ; an 

 eddy of dry leaves, as if caught up by a passing gust, 

 here and there along the slope, and the startled 

 creature has disappeared in the forest. 



A few paces further you come again upon the lake, 

 which here thrusts a long arm of silver in among the 

 trees. A troop of nutcrackers are wrangling in the 

 pine-tops, screaming like their brighter cousin the jay, 

 and sailing into the air at times with the grace of a 

 soaring swallow. 



As you make your slow way through the tangled 

 undergrowth that skirts the shore, a huge bird breaks 

 from cover almost at your feet with a commotion that 

 makes you stop short in amazement. It is a caper- 

 cailzie — a noble bird, the prince of forest fowl. 



He is just long enough in getting clear of the bushes 

 for you to mark the gorget of rich green upon his breast, 

 his crested head, and the crimson streak over the eye 

 which is the badge of honour of his clan. 



He flies straight over the water with a great rush of 

 wings. He is making for the farther shore, and you 



10 



