others just for the fun of hunting is something I cannot
understand at all. And yet that is what men seem to do it for.
I guess the trouble is they never have been hunted themselves and
don't know how it feels. Sometimes I think I'll hunt one some day
just to teach him a lesson. What are you laughing at, Peter?"

"At the idea of you hunting a man," replied Peter. "Your heart
is all right, Lightfoot, but you are too timid and gentle to
frighten any one. Big as you are I wouldn't fear you."

With a single swift bound Lightfoot sprang out in front of
Peter. He stamped his sharp hoofs, lowered his handsome head
until the sharp points of his antlers, which people call horns,
pointed straight at Peter, lifted the hair along the back of
his neck, and made a motion as if to plunge at him.
His eyes, which Peter had always thought so soft and gentle,
seemed to flash fire.

"Oh!" cried Peter in a faint, frightened-sounding voice and
leaped to one side before it entered his foolish little head that
Lightfoot was just pretending.

Lightfoot chuckled. "Did you say I couldn't frighten any one?"
he demanded.

"I-- I didn't know you could look so terribly fierce," stammered
Peter. "Those antlers look really dangerous when you point them
that way. Why -- why -- what is that hanging to them? It looks
like bits of old fur. Have you been tearing somebody's coat,
Lightfoot?" Peter's eyes were wide with wonder and suspicion.