some of the rags hanging to them dropped off.

Peter blinked very hard. He was trying to understand and he
couldn't. Finally he said so.

"What kind of a story are you trying to fill me up with?" he
demanded indignantly. "Do you mean to tell me that those are not
the antlers that you have had as long as I've known you? How can
anything hard like those antlers grow? And if those are new
ones, where are the old ones? Show me the old ones, and perhaps
I'll believe that these are new ones. The idea of trying to make
me believe that antlers grow just like plants! I've seen Bossy
the Cow all summer and I know she has got the same horns she had
last summer. New antlers indeed!"

"You are quite right, Peter, quite right about Bossy the Cow.
She never has new horns, but that isn't any reason why I shouldn't
have new antlers, is it?" replied Lightfoot patiently. "Her horns
are quite different from my antlers. I have a new pair every
year. You haven't seen me all summer, have you, Peter?"

"No, I don't remember that I have," replied Peter, trying very
hard to remember when he had last seen Lightfoot.

"I KNOW you haven't," retorted Lightfoot. "I know it because I
have been hiding in a place you never visit."

"What have you been hiding for?" demanded Peter.

"For my new antlers to grow," replied Lightfoot. "When my new