Page:They who walk in the wilds, (IA theywhowalkinwil00robe).pdf/51

 of their species was unfortunate enough to give birth to such a ridiculous and unmooselike offspring, well, it was her own affair and they were not disposed to worry about it. Thereafter, when any of the bulls of her kind were about, the cow always made haste to show that the red calf was hers, in order to avoid any possible unpleasantness. She was, indeed, as often happens, more devoted to this strange foster-child of hers than she had ever been to her own offspring. She never quite understood his moods or his manners, and this kept her interest keen.

It was not till late autumn, indeed, that the red calf realized it was possible for his dark mother to have any interest in life except himself. When his green world had turned to a riot of purple and russet and pale gold and flaming scarlet, and the wax-vermilion of the mountain-ash berries hung in lavish clusters over the white granite rocks, and thin frosts laced and powdered the glades at sunrise with sparkling silver and opal, he found his mother growing restless and sometimes forgetful of his presence. By this time the moose bulls, whom he occasionally caught sight of as they strode through the underbrush, had grown their mighty palmated antlers, and become so magnificent as to impress even his audacious and irreverent young spirit. He experienced his first sense of awe when he heard them bellowing their hoarse