Now the law of the herd says that the challengers for leadership shall fight until one or the other is victor. If it takes hours or days or weeks it must continue until one is beaten and can no longer fight. The rules are simple. He must prove himself the victor by strength, cunning, intelligence, trickery or any other way. The leader must be supreme so that none again dare challenge his authority.

It is always a battle royal in the woods. It never ends in a draw, except in those few sad but rare cases when horns and antlers get interlocked, and neither can pull away until both starve. Then a new challenge must be issued, and another leader chosen. Of this, both White Tail and Young Black Buck knew, and above all they sought to keep their horns and antlers from becoming interlocked. It availed the victor little to conquer if he starved with the vanquished.

When they sprang toward each other with lowered heads, they kept a wary eye out for the other’s twisted antlers. It was a light charge at first, a mere test of skill and strength; but their heads came together with a shock that sounded throughout the woods.

Then they withdrew, and trotted around each other, waiting for a favorable opening. Both knew that one blow against the side or limbs of the other would cripple his antagonist so the fight would be short. After circling White Tail three times, Young Black Buck launched his head straight for the flanks of his enemy, and for a moment it looked as if he would gain a great advantage; but at the critical instant White Tail turned and met the charge head-on. The clash of antlers was terrific but neither went down.

Next they butted in short, sharp swings of the head, slashing, cutting and pounding with all their might. It was like a close-in sparring match between two skilled boxers, each waiting for an opening to deliver a fatal blow. But both were as swift in defense as in offense.

They withdrew from the conflict, and trotted around each other once more. This time White Tail led the attack. Rearing on his hind legs, he brought all the weight of his body in a downward blow that made Young Black Buck shake and tremble. For a moment neither could recover from the terrible shock, so swift and powerful had the blow been. A thrill of excitement went through the assembled herd.

“Well done!” exclaimed Father Buck.

“But not better than my son can do!” echoed Black Buck.

To prove the truth of his father’s words, Young Black Buck turned a complete circle, suddenly reared, and brought his head down in another terrific blow. White Tail received it, and for a time their horns and antlers became locked. They pulled and jerked, pushed and twisted all over the open space to free their heads. With a sudden snap, the antlers loosened, and they were free once more.

The battle grew more vigorous now that the two combatants were warmed to the fray. They began to put more speed in their motions, and more force in their blows. Confident that neither one could take advantage of the other, they fell back to hard hitting. In this strength counted, and it was soon seen that they were pretty evenly matched. Again and again they received and administered punishment.

It may have seemed cruel to one not acquainted with the laws of the wild deer, but not so to the spectators nor to the fighters. The leadership had to be decided in this manner, and either combatant had the right to stop it by yielding to the other. But neither White Tail nor Young Black Buck had any intention of doing this.

The blood of the older ones was warmed by the sight. Father Buck recalled the day when he fought Black Buck for leadership, and he was proud of his son now fighting over again his own battles. Even Mother Deer, tenderhearted as she was, admired and applauded White Tail. She knew the battle once decided in his favor would never have to be repeated.

White Tail suddenly delivered a crushing blow upon his enemy’s head that brought him to his knees. For an instant every one held his breath, but before White Tail could take advantage of it with another blow he slipped and nearly fell to his own knees. Young Black Buck was up in an instant, and made a wild rush for his adversary. White Tail was prepared, and received it steadily.

The combat continued for an hour, two hours, three hours, until the flanks of both were covered with foam. And still they butted and bucked, and fought with all their might! Their breath was coming in short gasps, and their eyes flashing defiance.

All that morning the fight continued, with slight intervals for rest. Then they returned to it, each more determined than ever to defeat his rival. Young Black Buck soon showed signs of weakening, and his father noticing it, called out:

“Let them rest until another day! They have done enough today!”

“No! no!” shouted a dozen voices.

“The combat must go on!” replied Father Buck. “Not until they both ask for a rest can it stop.”

It was renewed with greater vigor. Growing weak by the strain, they fell more often to their knees. The crashing of horns in mighty blows could no longer be resisted so easily. They were longer in recovering from the blows, and slower in getting to their feet.

“Shall we put it off until another day?” asked Young Black Buck suddenly to his rival.

“No, it shall be settled today,” replied White Tail, breathing hard. “I can fight for weeks yet. I remember your lies about me, Young Black Buck. I recall your treachery in the woods! I think of how you lost me in Dismal Swamp so I might be disgraced! And now you shall be punished for them! I shall fight you until you can’t get up again!”

“That will never happen, White Tail! You can never do that!”

But this boast was hard to make good. Young Black Buck was showing weariness. Again and again he stumbled and fell to his knees. And each time White Tail sprang at him and delivered a series of mighty blows with his head.

Once Young Black Buck failed to get quickly back to his feet, and White Tail rushed him. With all the speed and power he could summon he delivered a crushing blow, and knocked his rival down until all four legs were doubled up under him.

White Tail stood over him. “Call me leader!” he snorted.

“Never!” grunted Young Black Buck, and tried to rise. White Tail knocked him flat again before he could rise.

“Call me leader!” he challenged again.

“Never!” came a fainter cry.

Again White Tail flattened him out, and issued the challenge the third time, and once more Young Black Buck refused.

Four times White Tail flattened him on the ground, and the fifth time Young Black Buck could not rise.

“Call me leader!”

There was no response. Young Black Buck was too weak to answer. White Tail stood over him. Three times Young Black Buck tried to rise, but fell back. He was too weak to respond to the challenge or to get to his feet. The battle was over! White Tail was victor!

“Who challenges my leadership now!” White Tail bellowed, glaring around. And none replied! Their very silence made him their choice. In the next story White Tail succeeds his father and becomes leader of the herd.