Lost in the Forest 211 



temptuously long since — the afternoon is advancing, and 

 is it possible to be lost ? The troth is we are lost for the 

 time. 



It is impossible to retrace one's footsteps, the paths and 

 drives are so intricate, and cross and branch so frequently. 

 There are no landmarks. Perhaps from the rising ground 

 across the valley a view may be obtained. On emerging 

 into the open, the whole herd of deer and fawns move 

 slowly into the forest and disappear. From the hill there 

 is nothing visible but trees. If a tree be climbed to get 

 a look-out, there is still nothing but trees. Following a 

 green drive as a forlorn hope, there comes again the 

 rattling as of clubs and spears, and strange grunting 

 sounds. It is the bucks fighting; and they are not 

 altogether safe to approach. But time is going on ; un- 

 less we can soon discover the way, we may have to remain 

 till the tawny wood-owls flit round the trees. 



There comes the tinkle-tinkle of a bell : a search shows 

 two or three cows, one of which, after the fashion of the 

 old time, carries a bell. She comes and butts one play- 

 fully, and insists on her poll being rubbed. Then there 

 is more grunting, but of a different kind — this time easily 

 recognised : it is a herd of swine searching for the beech- 

 mast and acorns. With them, fortunately, comes the 

 swineherd — a lad, who shows a drive which leads to the 

 nearest edge of the forest. 



Half an hour after leaving the swineherd, a rabbit is 

 found sitting on his haunches, motionless, with the head 

 drooping on one side. He takes no notice — he is dying. 

 Just beneath one ear is a slight trace of blood — it is the 

 work of a weasel, who fled on hearing approaching foot- 

 steps. Soon a film must form over the beautiful eye of 

 the hunted creature : let us in mercy strike him a sharp 



p 2 



