and rowed across to the other side. Then he tramped home and his
thoughts were very bitter. He knew that he could have shot
Lightfoot had it not been for the man who had protected the
Deer. He even began to suspect that this man had himself killed
Lightfoot, for he had been sure that as soon as he had become
rested Lightfoot would start for the woods, and Lightfoot had
done nothing of the kind. In fact, the hunter had not had so much
as another glimpse of Lightfoot.

The reason that the hunter had been so disappointed was that
Lightfoot was smart. He was smart enough to understand that the
man who was saving him from the hunter had done it because he was
a true friend. All the afternoon Lightfoot had rested on a bed of
soft hay in an open shed and had watched this man going about his
work and taking the utmost care to do nothing to frighten Lightfoot.

"He not only will let no one else harm me, but he himself will not
harm me," thought Lightfoot. "As long as he is near, I am safe.
I'll stay right around here until the hunting season is over, then
I'll swim back across the Big River to my home in the dear Green Forest."

So all afternoon Lightfoot rested and did not so much as put his
nose outside that open shed. That is why the hunter got no glimpse
of him. When it became dark, so dark that he knew there was no
longer danger, Lightfoot got up and stepped out under the stars.
He was feeling quite himself again. His splendid strength had returned.
He bounded lightly across the meadow and up into the brushy
pasture where the hunter had been hidden. There and in the woods
back of the pasture he browsed, but at the first hint of the coming
of another day, Lightfoot turned back, and when his friend, the farmer,