Young Black Buck had, of course, been in training all this time, for it is the law of the deer that none shall aspire for the leadership of a herd until he has learned all the ways of the woods, and can out-pace and out-jump his father and mother. All the laws of the deer are very strict, for the safety of all depends upon the leader.

Black Buck had taken his son through the woods, as Father Buck had taken White Tail, showing him the dangers and pitfalls, and instructing him how to avoid them and what to do when danger threatened. He had taken him secretly to Stepping Stone brook, and made him jump it; and he had tested his speed and endurance in a race with himself.

Father Buck had no illusions about what Black Buck was doing, and he tried to prepare White Tail to meet Young Black Buck on equal terms. It was like bringing up two boys for a contest in speed, strength, endurance, wisdom and courage. It was a Spartan education, but it was necessary for the good of the herd.

Then one day the clash came for a preliminary trial of skill. The herd had wandered down from the timberland to the open woods below where the new buds of the birches offered succulent food. There was no sign of danger in the air, and the herd grazed peacefully on soft young twigs and opening buds.

When they had wandered to the brink of the canyon that cut through the North Woods below Stepping Stone brook, the leaders paused and started to turn the young does and fawns back. It was dangerous to permit them to eat too close to the edge of the precipice. If one should fall over, the rocks below would crack every bone in its body.

Black Buck suddenly raised his head, and then whispered to his son: “Think you can jump the canyon safely? If so it is a good time to challenge White Tail. We may find out then what he can do. If he balks at it, we will know he is timid or under-trained.”

Young Black Buck walked to the edge, and gazed down it and then across it. It was a dangerous leap, for if he missed by an inch he would fall to the bottom thirty feet below where the hard rocks would crush him. He sniffed the air, and then returned to his father’s side.

“I can do it,” he replied. “I’ve made longer jumps.”

“Yes, but if you should fail you would be killed. Make sure of yourself before you sound the challenge. Go below, where the canyon is not so steep, but just as wide. Practice there alone until you have confidence. If you fail no harm will be done. You can wait another day.”

Young Black Buck separated himself from the herd and made his way to a point half a mile down the canyon. On either side here the rocks were covered with moss and turf, and the edges dropped only a few feet. If he failed the fall would not hurt him.

Unseen by the others, he made the attempt, and cleared the space successfully in the first leap. Then to make sure he tried it again and again, lighting easily on the opposite embankment each time.

Gloating with pride and triumph, he trotted back to Black Buck, and reported. “I never failed once. If the distance here is no greater across I can do it easily.”

“It is no greater, but if anything a few inches less,” replied Black Buck. “If you can do it below, you will do it here. Issue the challenge.”

Young Black Buck trotted away, and, raising his head in the air, a peculiar bellowing noise issued from his throat. It was the buck’s challenge to a contest. Every deer knew its meaning, and raised a head to see who was calling. White Tail, feeding some distance off with Mother Deer and Father Buck, heard it, and instantly turned his head in Young Black Buck’s direction.

“It’s Young Black Buck’s challenge,” whispered Father Buck. “You must accept it. It may be a challenge to a race or fight. Whatever it is you must accept it.”

“I’m ready,” replied White Tail, starting off.

“Who will leap the canyon with me!” bellowed Young Black Buck. “I shall lead where none dare follow! None shall then dispute my claim to leadership. Come those who dare!”

Before White Tail reached the spot, the whole herd was crowding around the challenger. They saw a prospect of a free entertainment, and they bucked and butted each other to get in front. None of the other young bucks had accepted the challenge. One glance at the yawning depth of the canyon had made them withdraw with sickening fear. It looked much deeper than it was, and twice as wide.

White Tail pushed his way through the crowds until he stood before Young Black Buck. The sight of him brought a quick remark from the challenger’s mouth.

“You, White Tail!” he exclaimed. “You wish to accept the challenge? Beware how you speak without thinking. Go and look down the chasm! It means death if you fail! Think twice before you speak!”

Now when Father Buck heard the nature of the challenge he felt a great fear. He had never shown the canyon to White Tail, and he didn’t know whether he could leap across it or not. He reproached himself for omitting this part of his training.

Mother Deer’s heart gave a great throb. If White Tail failed she knew he would be crushed to death on the rocks below. She could not endure such a sight. Better that her son should lose the leadership than be killed.

“No, no, White Tail,” she cried, “you must not accept the challenge. You must not! I can’t lose you!”

Black Buck, who had been standing back of the crowd, heard, and was greatly pleased, for he knew now that Father Buck hadn’t taught White Tail to jump the canyon. Few had ever taken the leap without practicing first at the place below where there was no danger. It was the fear of not being able to clear the distance that caused the real danger.

“You must not say that,” interrupted Father Buck, frowning at Mother Deer. “The honor of our family is at stake. White Tail must accept the challenge.”

Before Mother Deer could answer this, White Tail had settled the dispute. “Whatever you can do, Young Black Buck,” he said, “I will do. More than that, I will lead.”

“You will take the leap first?” queried Young Black Buck. “Then, as the challenger, I have the right of choice. You can go first, White Tail.”

“But where I go you must follow,” retorted White Tail. “If not, you shall be forever disgraced.”

“If you are afraid I’ll lead,” sneered Young Black Buck.

“No, I’ll go first!”

White Tail didn’t even go to the edge of the precipice to look down or to measure the distance across. What was the use? He would make the greatest jump of his life. If he failed he would die knowing he had done his best. What more could he do?

He ran back a short distance, and then facing the canyon he made a swift dash for it. At the brink he threw all his strength in a mighty leap, and his body shot upward and outward, forming a beautiful curve. He kept his eyes ahead, and never once looked down.

It was a splendid jump. It carried him clear across the canyon, and landed him safely a yard beyond the opposite edge. He knew by the shouts that he had succeeded even before his feet touched ground. Then with a proud toss of his head he turned and looked at Young Black Buck. It was his turn now. Could he do it?