and away the little herd would go, nip--nip--nip, in a series of
bounds, just as if their thin legs were so many springs, their
black hoofs coming down close together and just touching the short
elastic grass, which seemed to send them off again.

"I wish they wouldn't be afraid of me," young Robin said. "I
shouldn't hurt them."

But the does and fawns did not know that, for as Robin said this he
was fitting an arrow to his bow-string, and threatening to send it
flying after the shrieking jay which had given the alarm. He
forgot, too, that he had eaten heartily of delicious roasted fawn
only a few days before.

As he wandered on through glades where the sun seemed to send rays
of glowing silver down through the oak or beech leaves as if to
fill the golden cups which grew beneath them among the soft green
moss, he would come out suddenly perhaps on one of the sunny forest
pools, perhaps where the water was half covered with broad flat
leaves, among which were silver blossoms, in other places golden,
with arrow weed at the sides, along with whispering reeds and
sword-shaped iris plants. There beneath the floating leaves great
golden-sided carp and tench floated, and sometimes a fierce-eyed
green-splashed pike, while over all flitted and darted upon gauzy
wings beautiful dragon-flies, chasing the tiny gnats--blue, brown,
golden, and golden-green--and now and then encountering and making
their wings rustle as they touched in rapid flight. Then as he
stood with his hand resting against a tree trunk, peering forward,
a curious little head with bright crimson eyes divided the sedge or
reeds growing in the water, its owner looking out to see if there