antlers are growing, I want to be away by myself. I don't like
to be seen without them or with halfgrown ones. Besides, I am
very uncomfortable while the new antlers are growing and I want
to be alone." Lightfoot spoke as if he really meant every word he
said, but still Peter couldn't, he just COULDN'T believe that
those wonderful great antlers had grown out of Lightfoot's head
in a single summer. "Where did you leave your old ones and when
did they come off?" he asked, and there was doubt in the very
tone of his voice.

"They dropped off last spring, but I don't remember just where,"
replied Lightfoot. "I was too glad to be rid of them to notice
where they dropped. You see they were loose and uncomfortable,
and I hadn't any more use for them because I knew that my new
ones would be bigger and better. I've got one more point on each
than I had last year." Lightfoot began once more to rub his
antlers against the tree to get off the queer rags hanging to
them and to polish the points. Peter watched in silence for a
few minutes. Then, all his suspicions returning, he said:

"But you haven't told me anything about those rags hanging to
your antlers."

"And you haven't believed what I have already told you," retorted
Lightfoot. "I don't like telling things to people who won't
believe me."



CHAPTER III: Lightfoot Tells How His Antlers Grew