184 THE SPIRIT OF THE WOOD. 
after a soundless pause, the woodpecker took 
up its task of tapping again. Far away the 
jay suddenly screeched to tell of the passage 
of the dog that way. There was the bursting 
whir of a disturbed blackcock’s wings to prove 
the jay right ; and just across the glade, in the 
deep-blue gloom between the buttressed tree- 
boles, two stars were shining. 
Then the stars bounded out, and faded to 
wondrous eyes. It was the roebuck again. 
Surely he had been there all the time, and 
had been playing with the dog. He seemed 
unbreathed. There was no labouring of the 
satiny sides. But though it was true that he 
had been playing with the dog, he had not 
been there all the time. He had taken an 
easy canter, and, describing a loop, returned.. 
A wood-pigeon slid over the tops of the 
trees, and settled; another followed, and yet 
others, till the trees all about were quickly 
peopled with them—all silent. Each bird 
clapped its wings loudly. That meant danger. 
The dog was returning, and instantly: the 
dainty little buck sprang back into cover, and 
vanished. 
An hour later we find this exquisite buck of 
ours, still apparently quite unhurried, skipping 
across a bog on the open moor. 
A. hundred yards behind, smothered in fat 
