Read Online Forest World by Felix Salten - Free Book Online

ready to gore wildly. But both men passed her by and went to the horses instead.
    â€œWell, which one shall I saddle?” Peter asked.
    â€œThe mare,” Martin decided. He glanced at Lisa who was glaring and kept switching her tail. “Odd how the cow’s behaving.”
    Peter, putting the bit on the mare, looked over at the cow. “She does seem a little excited.” He strapped the saddle firmly on Witch.
    Lisa became somewhat more quiet.
    Martin put a foot in the stirrup, swung onto Witch’s back and guided her out. Peter stayed behind and wentover to the cow. He petted her between the horns and offered her a handful of salt. “Well, how’s your calf, Lisa?”
    His gentle tone soothed Lisa. Hesitantly at first, then more confidently, she licked the salt from his hand. His other hand caressed her thick brown neck.
    Babette’s voice was heard suddenly. “I want to see how the calf’s getting on.”
    At once Lisa began to lash her tail again.
    â€œThat calf will be very beautiful,” Babette said. She would have entered the stall but Lisa blocked the way and snorted wildly.
    â€œDon’t come in!” Peter said. “She doesn’t want you to.”
    â€œIf you don’t”—Babette smiled at Lisa—“then I won’t.”
    She and Peter left the stable.
    The stallion was triumphant. “You’re very brave. You chased them away, mother!”
    â€œYes, they’re gone,” Lisa mooed softly. “My baby wasn’t touched.”
    The donkey brayed his kindly but incredulous laughter.

Chapter 11
    G RAY CLOUDS COVERED THE BLUE skies. The fall had lost its patience and would be delayed no longer by the lingering summer. It broke forth with furor.
    Cold wind swept foliage from the trees. Cold rain splashed down and countless leaves fell, so that many trees were suddenly left with bare limbs.
    A radiant morning followed. Its cool freshness made the forest look new born. The air was crisp and sparkling. In the meadows and clearings mellow frost lay likesprinkled sugar. This glittering cover did not melt until the sun mounted high. Then wilted grass appeared.
    O-eh! came the first bay of a stag.
    Soon a second and third rang through the woods.
    Fascinated, Martin listened to this primitive sound which came only at one time of the year. By tomorrow the forest would be filled with the mighty trumpeting of the stags.
    With the first pink of dawn Martin went stalking, accompanied by Peter. Peter carried a gun hung on his shoulder, for he was prepared—just in case. But Martin, as always, had no weapon. Worshiping every living creature, he could not bear to kill.
    When they reached the forest, Peter turned off and Martin went on alone. He breathed deeply of the sharp air and watched his warm breath vanish like thin smoke.
    The roaring of the stags sounded. Martin stood stock-still to listen. With his finely tuned senses, he could tell the voices apart. Now one bayed. And then another cry thundered deep and throaty.
    The voices of the younger animals pealed clearly. Incontrast sounded the commanding basses of the Kings.
    Martin walked the narrow trail step by step, carefully avoiding every dry twig that might crack. But suddenly close to him came a rustling and breaking. A stag rushed by, so near that Martin could have touched him. Martin groped his way on noiselessly.
    About eighty paces ahead in the bush, something dark moved. Then came a mighty roaring.
    That was he—Martin’s favorite, monarch of the forest. It was from him that the other had fled.
    Tambo bayed forth. His black mane stretched almost horizontally, so that his brown crown seemed to lie on his back. The roaring came from the depth of his breast. Martin could see its power, a cloud of steam floating in the morning air.
    A number of stately does, seven in all, huddled together close to Tambo, their ears moving. They were rapt in awe of their tyrant