Father Buck walked across the brook again, and took his place on the rock from which the jump was made. White Tail immediately concluded he was going to show him how much farther he could jump when he was a young buck.

“I know you will beat me,” White Tail said. “But if you do, won’t you give me another chance?”

“Yes, if such a miracle should happen,” was the reply.

White Tail stood eagerly watching, while his father crouched as he had for the spring. How noble he looked with his big antlered head, with streaks of gray and white hair curling around the roots! White Tail was proud of him.

Suddenly Father Buck rushed forward, hesitated at the brink to get a good purchase with his hoofs, and then up in the air and straight across his body shot. White Tail watched him with gleaming eyes.

Then something happened which startled him. The spring had not been as powerful as he thought, for instead of beating White Tail’s mark, or reaching his own, Father Buck missed the shore by a foot. His hind legs actually splashed in the water.

“What happened?” exclaimed White Tail in amazement. “Did you slip, or—or—”

“No,” replied Father Buck sadly, “it was as I expected. I am getting old, White Tail, and have lost my spring. I have reached the age where I am no longer qualified to lead the herd. If any of the other bucks knew this they would instantly demand a new leader. It’s the law of the herd.”

“But—but—” stammered White Tail. “You could do it again. You didn’t get a good start.”

“No, it wasn’t that, White Tail. It was my age. I can no longer spring across Stepping Stone brook. I am not fit to be leader of the herd.”

Father Buck’s proud head drooped, and something like a tear gleamed in his eyes. It was hard to acknowledge that he was failing, and that in a few seasons he would be looked upon as a useless old buck who would have to take orders from another much younger than he. But it was the law of the herd—and the law of life.

“I can’t believe it!” exclaimed White Tail. “I won’t believe it! I know you can leap across the brook. You must try it again. What I can do you can do!”

Father Buck raised his head and smiled. All the sadness left his eyes, and pride and gratefulness took its place.

“No, White Tail,” he replied. “I cannot do it. I put in that jump all the strength I had—and I failed. But don’t think I’m sad. I’m not. I knew it had to come some day. But I’m glad that my son can take my place. I can be happy yet—and Mother Deer will share it with me—because you have qualified so well to be our leader. I am thankful for that.”

But White Tail was not convinced. It was hard for him to accept the truth. Father Buck was still to him the finest, proudest, wisest and strongest leader he knew, and he wanted him to continue so.

“Some other day when you feel better you will come out here and try the jump again,” he said. “I know you don’t feel well today. Tomorrow you will feel better.”

Father Buck shook his head slowly. “I see you are hard to convince, White Tail. But I will show you in another way. How far is it from here to Puma’s hunting ground?”

“Ten miles or more.”

“Then we will go to it. We will race to it at a good speed. I want you to set the pace—the swiftest you can. You must run as if Puma or Timber Wolf was on your trail. I will follow. You must neither look to the right or to the left, or back of you. Run with all your might.”

“You will follow close behind me?”

“I will follow you.”

Now White Tail looked with glee upon this run, for he was in fine condition. His limbs seemed aching for a long, hard run, and his father wanted to see how quickly he could make the race. He would show him. He wouldn’t disappoint him.

Shortly afterward he started off, taking a broad trail through the woods. He trotted along merrily, and soon began running in long leaps and bounds that carried him far and fast. When he came to obstructions in his path he leaped over them as easily as a boy or girl would jump over a log.

Faster and faster he flew through the woods, his fine head set well back, and his antlers almost resting on his neck. His eyes were kept glued to the trail ahead. He ran so easily and smoothly that it seemed as if he was making no effort. For the first five miles he showed hardly any results of his wild run, but in the last half of the distance he began to perspire a little, and the white foam settled on his flanks.

But he never stopped or turned until he reached the boundary line of Puma’s hunting ground. Then he halted and whirled around.

“How was that?” he asked.

But Father Buck was not there. He was alone. His father was nowhere in sight. Startled and surprised by this he trotted back a few paces and called to him. Then, not finding him, he became frightened. Had something happened to his father?

Perhaps Puma had sprung out of the bushes and killed him, or Timber Wolf had driven him off the trail, and was even now chasing him. White Tail was so alarmed that he retraced his footsteps, calling every little while for Father Buck. It was a dangerous thing to do, for in calling he might attract Puma or Timber Wolf. But his anxiety for his father made him forget all caution.

He found him a long way back on the trail, lying in the bushes, panting with exhaustion. As soon as he discovered him, White Tail ran up to him with a little bleat of joy.

“Oh, I thought something terrible had happened to you!” he exclaimed. “What is it? Did you stumble? You haven’t broken a leg, have you?”

“No, White Tail,” was the panting reply. “Nothing has happened to me. I couldn’t keep up with you. I tried my best. I hung on until I fell down with exhaustion. I have run my last race. I did it to show you that I am growing older and that my powers are weakening. You would not be convinced when I failed to leap the brook. Now you will have to believe.”

Then it dawned upon White Tail that the race to Puma’s hunting ground was simply to show him that his father could no longer keep up with the young bucks of the herd. It was hard for Father Buck thus to show his failing powers, but it was better to do it with his son as the only witness than to fail before all the herd.

“It is my downfall, White Tail,” he added. “But I wanted only you as witness. Now you know. My leadership will soon end, but when the day comes you must be able to take my place. That will be my satisfaction, and your mother’s. She knew that the time was approaching, and she will not be heavy-hearted.”

White Tail was terribly distressed by this news, but after a while a fierce joy came to him. “I shall prove myself worthy of you, Father Buck,” he said. “Yes, I will take your place. I will fight for it now that you and Mother Deer want it. Yes, I will fight for the leadership until the last breath.”

“Those are the words I’ve longed to hear, White Tail. Now I am contented. We will return to the herd. My day’s work is done.”

As they trotted slowly back to the herd, they planned for the future. Both knew that the future race would be between White Tail and Young Black Buck. But of this you will read in the next story.